2pac - Live It Up
текст песни

I ain't got no friends
(take money) yeah, I'ma do this track
West side! (take money) MOB, Bad Boy killers
(take money) Ha ha haha, hey fat boy
(take money)

First off
Touch your chick and the clique you claim
Westside when we ride
Come equipped with game
You claim to be a player
But I bust your wife
We bust on Bad Boys, brothers touch for life
Plus Puffy trying to see me
Weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior MAFIA
Some mark-ass tricks
We keep on coming while we
Running for your jewels
Steady gunning, keep on busting at them fools
You know the rules little Ceaser
Go ask your homie how I'll leave you
Cut your trick ass up, leave you in pieces
Now be deceased
Lil Kim, don't compensate for real G's
Quick to snatch your ugly
Hair off the streets
You Little weave! I'll let them suckas
Know it's on for life
Don't let the Westside ride the night haha
Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed
Mess with me and get your caps peeled
You know see

Grab ya Glocks, when you see 2Pac
Call the cops, when you see 2Pac, uhh
Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish
Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace
Sucka, I hit em' up

Yeah, straight out on the Bad Boy camp
You know how we do it
All my real homeboys in
New York keep thuggin'
All the rest of you bustas die slow!

Get out the way yo, Hussein Fatal
Biggie Smallz 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 murderer
And I ain't never heard-a ya
Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin ya
Spank ya shank ya whole style when I gank
Guard your rank
Cause I'ma slam you ass in the paint
Puffy weaker than a block I run on you
And I'll smoke ya junior mafia
In front of you
With the ready power tuckin my
Guess under my Eddie Bauer ya clout
Pretty sour I get packages every hour
And hit em up

Grab ya Glocks, when you see 2Pac
Call the cops, when you see 2Pac, uhh
Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish
Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace
Sucka, we hit em' up

Peep how we do it, keep it real
It's penitentiary steel
This ain't no freestyle battle
All you suckers gettin
Killed with ya mouths open
Tryin to come up offa me
You in the clouds hoping
Smokin dope it's like a sherm high
Brothers think they learned to fly
But they burn little suckers
You deserve to die
Talkin bout you gettin money
But it's funny to me
All you suckers living bummy
Why you're messin' with me
I'm a self made milionare
Thug Livin out a prison, pistols in the air
Hahaha biggie, remember when I used to let
You sleep on tha couch
And beg the trick to let
You sleep in the house, ahh
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
Little busta, I hit em up

I'm from N-E W Jerz
Where plenty murders occur
No point to comment
We bringin drama to all you herbs
Knuckle check the scenario, Little Cease
I bring you fake G's to your knees
Coppin pleas in de janeiro
Big Momma, is you coked up, or doped up?
Get ya lil Junior whopper clique smoked up
Please tell me is you STUPID?! I take money
Crash and mash through Brooklyn
With my clique lootin
Shootin and pollutin ya block
With 15 shots cocked Glock to your knot
Outlaw mafia clique movin up another notch
And you bast stops squaws
Get mopped and dropped
All your fake-ass east coast
Props brainstormed and locked

You is a, b writer, a Pac style taker
I'll tell you to ya face you
Ain't nothin' but a faker
Softer than Alizé with a chaser
Bout to get murdered for the paper
Idi Amin approach the scene of the caper
Like a loc, with Prodigy in a choke hold
Totin smoke, Outlawz we ain't no joke
Thug Life, cowards betta be known
We approachin in the wide open, guns smokin
No need for hopin it's a battle lost
I got em crossed
Soon as the funk is poppin off
HAHA I hit em up

Empty clips, set trip
You know what time it is
Westside, Outlaw, Thug Life till we die
California love, california thug
You know what time it is bad Boy Killa
Mobb Deep Killa chino XL Killa
Much love to Smiff-N Wessun, Freddie
Foxxx, Bunchy The Fat Bastard
Naughty By Nature and all the
Real thugs out there
(Who fi broke-broke an who fi rich-rich)
Keep it comin’!
(Outlaw Immortal will never switch)
Westsiiiide! You know what time it is
(Police informa, di bwoy dem a snitch)
All my real homeboyz in Jerzey
(Live the thug life and get
Buried ina di ditch) get up!
(New York uno better respect 2PAC) outlaw!
(an di yute Big, dem proud to be black)
Thug Life! to die
(Jealousy some of them act idiot)
Westsiiiide!
(Hangin’ pondi corner an smoke nuff crack)
Outlaw! Live it up or give it up, busta!
(2PAC a di artical an dats a fact)
Ha ha haha, yeah! (so seh dis an so seh dat)
You know what time it is
(New York uno betta respect 2PAC)
Love bout you, hate about me
(if uno diss, u will gonna get a gunshot)
(take money) Gun talkin’ automatic mins`
(Outlaw Immortal will come an attack)
(take money) eleven’s, fo’teens
(radical posse, as we have thug life back)
Whatever!
(Jamaican posse, yes, we love 2PAC)
You wanna see us? Have you punks wannabe’s
(warrior black an di yute nuh smoke crack)
Bad Boy killers, we the realest, whatever!
(New York uno better respect 2PAC)
We got, together, Outlawz!
(an di yute big, dem proud to be black)
Thugs to the realest, feel us
(Jealousy some of them act idiot)
All you suckas die
(Hangin’ pondi corner an smoke nuff crack)
Slow, my fo’fo’, go, bow-bow
(2PAC a di artical an dats a fact)
Kastro, Idi, close my foes
(so seh dis an so seh dat)
Without love, no love, do ya
(respect to my bredren 2PAC)
(take money) You knew it!
(Respect to the hard to kill yute)
It came with it, we bought it, we court it
THUG LIFE! (Now I don’t give a damn
About what everybody said)
Forever, together, we ride, we die, we high
(y’all understand?)
(if ya don’t know somebody you
Ain’t supposed to judge em) fOREVER!
THUG LIFE! (that yute big ya done)
OUTLAW RIDAHZ! Westsi i i i ide!
MOB! echoes