Skip to content

Hit Em Up Lyrics – 2Pac

    Hit Em Up is a popular song by 2Pac from the 1996 album How Do U Want It. Check words to 2Pac Hit Em Up Lyrics in English below.

    Hit Em Up Lyrics – 2Pac 

    [Intro: Tupac]
    I ain’t got no motherfuckin’ friends
    That’s why I fucked yo’ bitch, you fat motherfucka!
    (Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas
    (Take money) (You know) You know who the realest is
    (Take money) niggas, we bring it too
    That’s a’ight, ha ha
    (Take money)

    [Verse 1: 2Pac]
    First off, fuck your bitch and the clique 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 Boys, niggas fucked for life
    Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip
    Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches
    We keep on comin’ while we runnin’ for your jewels
    Steady gunnin’, keep on bustin’ at them fools, you know the rules
    Lil’ Caesar, go ask your homie how I’ll leave ya
    Cut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased
    Lil’ Kim, don’t fuck around with real Gs
    Quick to snatch yo’ ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace!
    I’ll let them niggas know it’s on for life
    Don’t let the Westside ride tonight (Ha ha)
    Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed
    Fuck with me and get yo’ caps peeled, you know
    [Chorus: 2Pac]
    See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac
    Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh
    Who shot me? But you punks didn’t finish
    Now you ’bout to feel the wrath of a menace
    Nigga, I hit ’em up! (Yeah)

    [Interlude: 2Pac]
    Check this out, you motherfuckers 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’ma let my lil’ homies ride
    On you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it!

    [Verse 2: Hussein Fatal]
    Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
    Biggie Smalls just got dropped
    Little Mu’, pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back
    Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin’ traps
    Little accident murderer, and I ain’t never heard of 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 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 tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer
    Your clout petty/sour, I push packages every hour; I hit ’em up!
    [Chorus: 2Pac]
    Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac
    Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh
    Who shot me? But you punks didn’t finish
    Now you ’bout to feel the wrath of a menace
    Nigga, we hit ’em up!

    [Verse 3: 2Pac]
    Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel
    This ain’t no freestyle battle
    All you niggas gettin’ killed with your mouths open
    Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin’
    Smokin’ dope, it’s like a sherm high
    Niggas think they learned to fly
    But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die
    Talkin’ about you gettin’ money, but it’s funny to me
    All you niggas livin’ bummy while you fuckin’ with me
    I’m a self-made millionaire
    Thug livin’, out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)
    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 back to set the record straight
    With my AK, I’m still the thug that you love to hate
    Motherfucker, I hit ’em up!
    [Verse 4: Kadafi]
    I’m from N-E-W Jers’ where plenty of murders occurs
    No points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs
    Now go check the scenario: Lil’ Cease
    I’ll bring you fake G’s to your knees, coppin’ pleas in de Janeiro
    Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?
    Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up
    What the fuck, is you stupid?
    I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn
    With my click lootin’, shootin’ and pollutin’ your block
    With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot
    Outlaw MAFIA clique movin’ up another notch
    And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped
    All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked

    [Verse 5: E.D.I. Mean]
    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 Alizé with a chaser
    About to get murdered for the paper
    E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper
    Like a loc, with Little Ceas’ in a choke
    Gun totin’ smoke, we ain’t no motherfuckin’ joke
    Thug Life, niggas better be knowin’
    We approachin’ in the wide open, gun smokin’
    No need for hopin’, it’s a battle lost
    I got ’em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin’ off
    Nigga, I hit ’em up!

    [Outro: 2Pac]
    Now you tell me who won
    I see them, they run, hahahaha
    They don’t wanna see us
    Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressin’ up tryna be us
    How the fuck they gonna be the mob
    When we always on our job?
    We millionaires
    Killin’ ain’t fair, but somebody gotta do it
    Oh yeah, Mobb Deep, you wanna fuck with us?
    You little young-ass motherfuckers
    Don’t one of you niggas got sickle-cell or somethin’?
    You’re fuckin’ with me, nigga
    You fuck around and have a seizure 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!
    But we ain’t singin’, we bringin’ drama
    Fuck you and yo’ motherfuckin’ mama!
    We gon’ 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 motherfuckin’ opinion
    Well, this is how we gonna do this: fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!
    Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfuckin’ crew!
    And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too!
    Chino XL, fuck you too!
    All you motherfuckers, fuck you too!
    (Take money, take money)
    All of y’all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow!
    Motherfucker, my .44 make sho’ all y’all kids don’t grow!
    You motherfuckers can’t be us or see us
    We motherfuckin’ Thug Life ridas
    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 nothin’ but killas
    And the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us
    Our shit goes triple and 4-quadruple
    You niggas laugh ’cause our staff got guns under they motherfuckas belts
    You know how it is: when we drop records, they felt
    You niggas can’t feel it, we the realest
    Fuck ’em, we Bad Boy killas!


    Writer(s): 2Pac (Tupac Shakur), Biggie Smalls (The Notorious B.I.G.), et al.


    Leave a Reply

    Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *