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主歌 A1
Ain’t got no mother***in’ friends
That’s why I ***ed yo’ ***
You fat mother***a
(Take money)
主歌 A2
West side
Bad Boy killaz
(Take money)
You know the realest is, ***z
主歌 A3
(take money)
We bring it to you
(Take money)
(That’s aiight hahaha)
主歌 A4
(Take money)
*** your *** and the clique you claim
West side when we ride
Come equipped with game
主歌 A5
You claim to be a player
But I ***ed your wife
We bust on Bad Boyz’ ***z
***ed for life
主歌 A6
Plus, Puffy tryin to see me
Weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smallz and Junior M.A.F.I.A.
Some mark ass ***es
We keep on comin
While we runnin for ya jewels
Steady gunnin, keep on bustin at the fools
You know the rules
Little Ceaser
Go ask your homie how I leave ya
Cut your young ass up
Leave you in pieces
Now be deceased
Lil’ Kim
Don’t *** around with real Gs
Quick to snatch your ugly ass off the street
So *** peace
I let them ***s know it’s on for life
So let the West side ride tonight hahaa
Bad Boy ***ed on wax and killed
*** with me and get ya caps peeled
You know
See
Grab your 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
***, I hit ’em up!
Check this out, you mutha***az know what time it is?
I don’t even know why I’m on this track
Y’all ***z ain’t even on my level
Imma let my little homies ride on you
*** made ass Bad Boy ***es
Deal with it!
Get out the way, yo
Biggie Smallz just got dropped
Little Moo, pass the Mack
And let me hit him in his back
Frank White need to get spanked right
For settin tracks
Little accident ***er
And I ain’t never heard of ya
Poisinous gats attack
When I’m servin’ ya
Spank the shank
Ya whole style when I dank
Guard your rank
Cause Imma slam your ass in the pavement
Puffy weaker that a ***in rocka wanna do, ***
And I’ll smoke your Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, ***
With the ready power tuckin
My Guess under my Eddie Bauer
Your clout
Pretty sour
I get packages every hour
I hit ’em up
Grab your 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
***, I hit ’em up!
Peep how we do it
Keep it real
It’s penitentiary steel
This ain’t no freestyle battle
All you ***z gettin killed
With your mouths open
Tryin’ to come up off’a me
You in the clouds hoping
Smokin’ dope it’s like a sherm high
***z think they learned to fly
But they burned mutha***a
You deserve to die
Talkin ’bout you gettin money
But it’s funny to me
All you ***z living bummy
While you ***in’ wit me
I’m a self made millionaire
Thug livin’ out of prison
Pistols in the air (haha)
Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch
And beg the *** to let you sleep in the house (uh)
Now it’s all about Versaci
You copied my style
Five shots couldn’t drop me
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