Intro. [2Pac]. I ain't got no muthafuckin' friends. What y'all niggas talkin' about. Hell yeah. I'm a do this muthafuckin' track. (Right). And they know exactly. Who I'm talkin' about too. You old bitch made niggas. Verse 1. [2Pac]. Cause. Uh. Niggas talk plenty shit. So many tricks. I fucked your bitch. Cause I'm true to this. Witness the hit. You talk bad about a nigga. When I got blasted. Hope you made a little money. While the funk lasted. Heard they call you Big Poppa. Nigga how you figure. Cause to me. You'll always be a phoney fat nigga. I can't be copy these. And wearin' Versachi. Nigga you run or buck. Scared as fuck. If the guns would bust. Now niggas talk. I got a list. Of player haters the fakes. You bitch niggas. Gettin' blown away. You cross-eyed. Down syndrome. Crack baby. So you and Puffy are tough. Now that's crazy. I got your ass in my sight. Niggas dyin' tonight. We screamin'. West Side for life. And I can't wait. To see you niggas in traffic. Cause we gonna get 'em up. (Ha ha ha). When you see me. You better bust. Cause I'm a hit 'em up. Chorus. [Tupac]. Grab your glocks. When you see Tupac. (Uh). Call the cops. When you see Tupac. (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 2. [Napolean]. It's hard to explain. This wasn't my thang. When I was younger. Before my shit. I swear to God. I'll make you stick. Just to make a come up. Niggas run up. Cause more murder. For the money. Got caught up. Tryin' to make a harder record. Should have been on checked. Cause I bet you. And it's for life. You'll never gonna see a nigga like me. Wantin' a battle up on T.V.. I'd rather release. Some of these. And put a slug. To you buster ass niggas. That continue to squeeze. I got some niggas. Back in Jersey. That would rather be jackin' cars. And robbin' bitch niggas. Like y'all for emergency. Let's take it back. To the West Side. Them niggas. Sure gonna be ridahs. And plus we Thug Life niggas. So call us multiply. Finger on the trigger. Bitches stand and rise. But we don't trust 'em. They might be the first. That we gonna bust up. Just label me a Bad Boy Killer. You Mobb Deep bitches. Gonna feel us. When we turn into killers. Hit 'em up. Verse 3. [E.D.I]. Now this is me. B. K.. All day. Ain't no frontin'. Ain't no quicker. Strictly Bad Boy killin'. Shoot that ass like a squealer. Now let this muthafucka. Top down. I'm fittin' to drop rounds. Lettin' these sounds. Pop and then I'm hot bound. Seein' them shatter. Shootin' my shit. To work a lease go. What's up to the ridahs. In L.A.. Don't preach on up. To the East O.. Shootin' that so. See low. Circle. That shit don't hurt you. Made to turn you purple. Wanna take a plane. But we enemies. To the game. Well get that ass tamed. Simple and plain. Y'all know the name. Drama. Ridahs. Through the whole night. Niggas get taught. Then we bobbin' through. They hits slow. No need for runnin'. Cause we don't give a fuck. Beside the funky man. We got to hit they ass. On up. Verse 4. [Hussein Fatal]. Get out the way. Yo. Get out the way. Yo. Biggie Smalls just got shot. And I'm a true eagle. Stormin'. Nigga don't need your fat ass. In California. I catch you. On any East Coast corner. And your ass is a goner. Puffy hit the fuckin' block. I'll run at you nigga. And I'll smoke the Junior M.A.F.I.A.. In front of you nigga. With the ready power. Ducked in my guess. Under my Eddie Bower. You clothes petty sour. I push bomb packages. Every hour. My sons past. When slappin' nickels. On glass forties. So hurry the cash. You made on that F. Without your ass shorty. I got a team. Of simple boutable souls. With my ears like Yoda. Quick as a cobra. And never sober. Verse 5. [Khadafi]. I'm on a twelve o' clock. Cruise to Brooklyn. And I'm lookin'. For the thirl in your barrel. Ready to get his life tookin'. So where your killers at. You fake trick. E.D.I. will leave your coward ass. Stripped. And a full clip. In your stomach. You been all year nigga. Runnin'. Poppin' every coward. And every nigga behind you. I made it about impossible. For you niggas to escape. Another murder. Or visit to the hospital. I can't wait. Meet up with all you bitches. In the streets. So I can leave all you cowards. Covered in white sheets. When we hit 'em up. Verse 6. [Storm]. If you a big bad muthafucka. Come step to this. I got your life in the hit. And one hidden in the clip. Who wanna test this. To the 1 2 3. Bound to get they ass. Put under. Cause the Storm. Is bringin' nothin' but thunder. Who's the bomb nigga. Quick to feel that. Kill that sorry nigga. Situation. Naw. Naw. Who's the bigger trigger. I approached the two g's. You though I was easy. Now you beggin' on your knees. Pleasey.