So I fucked Yo Bitch You Fat Motherfucka
Westside Bad Boy Killers
You Know who the realist is Niggas
We Bring It To

First Off, Fuck Yo Bitch, And The Click You Claim,
Westside When We Ride, Come Equipped With Game,
You Claim To Be A Playa, But I Fucked Yo Wife,
We Bust On Bad Boys, Niggas Fuck For Life,
Plus Puffy Tryin' to see me, Weak Hearts I rip,
Biggie Smalls and Junior MAFIA, Some Mark Ass Bitches,
We keep on coming, While we runnin' for ya jewels,
Steady gunnin', Keep on bustin' at them fools,
You Know The Rules,
Little Caesar go ask ya homie how I leave ya,
Cut ya young ass up, Leave you in pieces, So be deceased,
Lil' Kim, Don't Fuck around with real G'z,
Quick To Snatch yo ugly ass off tha streetz,
So fuck peace, I let them niggaz know it's on for life,
Don't let the westside ride the night,
Bad Boy murdered on wax and kill,
Fuck with me and get yo caps peeled,
You know, see......

Grab your glocks when you see 2Pac,
Call The Cops When you see 2Pac,
Who Shot Me but you punks didn't finish,
Now ya 'bout ta feel the wrath of a menace,
Nigga I hit 'em up !!

Check This Out You Mother Fuckers Know what time it is ?
I don't even know why I'm on this track
Y'all Niggas ain't even on my level I'm going to let my
Little homies ride on ya Bitch Made ass bad boys bitches

Get Out the way yo, Get Out the way yo,
Biggie Smalls Just Got Dropped, Little move past the mac,
And Let me hit him in his back,
Frank White needs to get spanked right for Setting traps,
Little accident murderers and I ain't never heard of ya,
Poise less gats attack when I'm serving ya, Spank the shank,
Your whole style when I gank, Guard your rank,
Cause I'm a slam your ass in a pang,
Puffy weaker than a fuckin' block, I'm running through nigga,
And I'm smoking Junior MAFIA, In front of ya nigga,
With the ready power, Tucked in my guess,
Under by my Eddie Bower,
Your clout pretty sour, I push packages every hour,
I hit 'em up.

Grab your glocks when you see 2Pac,
Call The Cops When you see 2Pac,
Who Shot Me but you punks didn't finish,
Now ya 'bout ta feel the wrath of a menace,
Nigga we hit 'em up !!

Peep how we do it, Keep it real, The penitentiary steel,
This ain't no freestyle battle, All you niggas getting killed,
With your mouths open, Tryin' to come up off me,
You and the clouds hoping, Smoking dope, It's like a shermine,
Niggas think they learned to fly,
But they burn mother fucker you deserve to die,
Talking about you Getting Money, But it's funny to me,
All you niggas living bummy, While you fucking with me?,
I'm a self made Millionaire,
Thug livin' out of prison, Pistols in the Air,
Biggie remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch,
And beg the 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 back to set the record straight, With my A-K,
I'm still the thug that you love to hate,
Mother fucker I'll Hit 'Em Up.

I'm from N W New Jers, Where plenty of murders occurs,
No points to come, We bring drama to all you herds,
Now go check the scenario, Little Caes',
I'll bring you fake 'G's to ya knees, Copin' pleas with these,
Little Kim is ya, Coked up or doped up,
Get your little Junior Whooper click smoked up,
What the Fuck ? Is you stupid ?
I take money, Crash and mash through Brooklyn,
With my click looting, shooting, and polluting your block,
With fifteen shot, Cocked glock to your knot,
Outlaw MAFIA click moving up another knotch,
And your Pop stars pops and get mopped and dropped,
And all you fake ass east coast props,
Brainstormed and locked.

You's a B-Writer, Pac style taker,
I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothing shit but a faker,
Softer than a halizay with a chaser, 'bout to get murdered for the paper,
E.d.i. I mean post the scene of the caper, Like a loc,
With little Caes' in a choke,
Toting smoke, we ain't no Mother Fucking 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 gottem crossed as soon as the funk is boping off,
Nigga, I hit 'em up.

Now you tell me who won, I see them, they run,
They don't wanna see us, Whole Junior MAFIA click,
Dressing up trying to be us, How the fuck they gonna be the Mob ?
When we always on our job, We millionare's, Killing ain't fair,
But somebody got to do it.
Oh yeah, Mobb Deep, ya wanna fuck with us,
Ya little young ass mother-fuckers,
Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something ?
You fucking with me nigga ?
You fuck around with us and you gonna get a seisure or a heart - attack,
You better back the fuck up, Before you get smacked the fuck up,
This is how we do it on our side,
Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it,
We ain't singing, We bringing drama,
Fuck you and your mother-fucking mama,
We gonna kill all you mother-fuckers,
Now when I came out I told you it was just about Biggie,
Then everybody had to open their mouth with their mother-fuckin' opinion,
Now this is how we gon' do this, Fuck Mobb Deep, Fuck Biggie,
Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a mother-fuckin' crew,
And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy then Fuck you too,
Chino XL fuck you to, All y'all mother-fuckers fuck you too,
All y'all mother-fuckers, Fuck you, die slow mother-fuckers,
My fo' fo' make sure all yo kids don't grow,
You mother-fuckers can't be us or see us,
We mother-fuckin' Thug Life Riders, West side 'till we die,
Out here in California, nigga, We warned ya,
We'll bomb on you mother-fuckers, We do our job,
You think you the mob, nigga, we the mother-fuckin' mob,
Ain't nuttin' but killers, And the real niggas,
All you mother-fuckers feel us, Our shit goes tripple and four quadruple,
You niggas laugh coz our staff got guns under they mother fuckin' belts,
You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt,
Y'all niggas can't feel it, We the realist, Fuck 'em,
We Bad Boy Killas.