Hit 'Em Up

Outlawz, 2Pac

About Hit 'Em Up

"Hit 'Em Up" is a diss song by hip hop artist 2Pac featuring the Outlawz, a group associated with him. It is the B-side to the single "How Do U Want It", released on June 4, 1996. The song's lyrics contain vicious insults to several East Coast rappers, chief among them, Shakur's former-friend-turned-rival, the Notorious B. I. G., also known as Biggie Smalls. The song was recorded in Los Angeles, California at Can Am Studios in May 1996. Reporter Chuck Philips, who interviewed Shakur at Can Am, described the song as "a caustic anti-East Coast crusade in which the rapper threatens to eliminate Biggie, Sean Combs (Puffy), and a slew of Bad Boy artists and other New York acts. " The song was produced by long-time collaborator Johnny "J" and samples the bassline from "Don't Look Any Further" by Dennis Edwards and interpolates "10% Dis" by MC Lyte, "Get Money" by The Notorious B. I. G.'s group Junior M. A. F. I. A., which used the Dennis Edwards sample as well. The video, itself described as infamous, includes impersonations of Biggie, Puffy and M. A. F. I. A. member Lil' Kim. 


Year:
1998
5:03
1,559 Views
#3

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I ain't got no motherfuckin friends
That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker
(Take money) West side, Bad Boy killers (take money)
You know who the realest is niggaz we bring it to you (take money)
(Take money)

First off, f*ck your bitch and the click you claim
Westside when we ride come equipped with game
You claim to be a player but I fucked your wife
We bust on Bad Boy niggaz fucked for life
Plus Puffy tryin' ta see me weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. Some mark-ass bitches
We keep on comin' while we runnin' for yo' jewels
Steady gunnin, keep on bustin at them fools, you know the rules
Lil' Ceaser, go ask ya homie how I leave ya
Cut your young ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased
Lil' Kim, don't f*ck around with real G's
Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so f*ck peace
I let them niggaz know it's on for life
So let the Westside ride tonight
Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed
F*ck wit' me and get yo' caps peeled, you know, see

Grab ya glocks, when you see Tupac
Call the cops, when you see Tupac, uh
Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish
Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace
Nigga, I hit em' up

Check this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is (take money)
I don't even know why I'm on this track (take money)
Y'all niggaz ain't even on my level
I'ma let my little homies ride on you (take money)
Bitch made-ass bad boy bitches deal with it!

Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
Biggie Smalls just got dropped
Little Moo, pass the mac, and let me hit him in his back
Frank White need to get spanked right, for settin' traps
Little accident murderers, and I ain't never heard-a ya
Poisinous gats attack when I'm servin' ya
Spank ya shank ya whole style when I gank
Guard your rank, 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint
Puffy weaker than the fuckin' block I'm runnin through nigga
And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. In front of you nigga
With the ready power tuckin' my Guess under my Eddie Bauer
Ya clout petty sour, I get packages every hour to hit 'em up

Grab ya glocks, when you see Tupac
Call the cops, when you see Tupac, uh
Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish
Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace
Nigga, I hit em' up

Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steel
This ain't no freestyle battle
All you niggaz gettin killed with ya mouths open
Tryin' to come up offa me, you in the clouds hopin'
Smokin dope it's like a sherm high niggaz think they learned to fly
But they burn motherfucker, you deserve to die
Talkin' bout you gettin' money but it's funny to me
All you niggaz livin' bummy why you fuckin' with me?
I'm a self made millionaire
Thug livin' out a prison, pistols in the air
Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch
And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house
Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style
Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled
Now I'm bout to set the record straight
With my AK I'm still the thug that you love to hate
Motherfucker, I hit 'em up

I'm from N-E-W Jers'
Where plenty of murders occurs
No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs
Now go check the scenario
Little Ceas' I'll bring you fake G's to your knees
Copping pleas in de Janeiro
Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?
Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up
What the f*ck, is you stupid?
I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn
With my click looting, shooting and polluting your block
With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot
Outlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch
And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped
And all your fake ass East coast props
Brainstormed and locked

You's a, beat biter
A Pac style taker
I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker
Softer than Alize with a chaser
About to get murdered for the paper
E.D.I Amin approach the scene of the caper
Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke
Gun totin' smoke. We ain't no motherfucking joke
Thug Life, niggas better be known
Be approaching in the wide open, gun smoking
No need for hoping, it's a battle lost
I got em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off
Nigga, I hit em up!

Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run
They don't wanna see us (take money)
Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. Clique
Dressing up trying to be us (take money)
How the f*ck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job? (Take money)
We millionaires
Killing ain't fair but somebody got to do it (take money)
Oh yeah, Mobb Deep (take money) you wanna f*ck with us
You little young-ass motherfuckers (take money)
Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something (take money)
You're fucking with me, nigga you f*ck around and catch a seizure or a heart attack (take money)
You better back the f*ck up before you get smacked the f*ck up
This is how we do it on our side
Any of you niggas from New York that want to bring it, bring it
But we ain't singing, we bringing drama
F*ck you and your motherfucking mama
We're gonna kill all you motherfuckers
Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie
Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfucking opinion
Well this is how we gonna do this
F*ck Mobb Deep, f*ck Biggie
F*ck Bad Boy as a staff, record label and as a motherfucking crew
And if you want to be down with Bad Boy, then f*ck you too
Chino XL, f*ck you too
All you motherfuckers, f*ck you too (take money, take money)
All of y'all mother fuckers, f*ck you, die slow, motherfucker
My .44 make sure all y'all kids don't grow
You motherfuckers can't be us or see us
We motherfuckin' Thug Life-riders, Westside 'til we die
Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya
We'll bomb on you motherfuckers. We do our job
You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfuckin' mob
Ain't nothing but killers and the real niggas
All you motherfuckers feel us
Our shit goes triple and 4-quadruple
(Take money)
You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got
Guns under they motherfuckin' belts
You know how it is, when we drop records they felt
You niggas can't feel it, we the realest
F*ck 'em, we Bad Boy-killers

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2Pac

Tupac Amaru Shakur, also known by his stage names 2Pac and Makaveli, was an American rapper and actor. He is considered by many to have been one of the best rappers of all time. Shakur was born in the Harlem neighborhood of New York City but relocated to Los Angeles in 1988. more »

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Genre:

Written by: Dennis Lambert, Tupac Amaru Shakur, Yafeu Fula, Johnny Lee Jackson, Malcolm Greenidge, Bruce Washington, Frannie Golde, Duane S. Hitchings

Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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    "Hit 'Em Up Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 7 Dec. 2021. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric/26180159/2Pac>.

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