2Pac – All Out Lyrics

2Pac – All Out Lyrics
All Out
2Pac
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    All Out Album Art
    "All Out." - 2Pac

    Album: Until the End of Time
    Track No: 09
    We going all out, aight, we going all out, aight, we going all out.
    Watch your mother fucking mouths niggas.

    That's right.
    Fuck these fed Niggas Pac.

    Do it, Do it, Do it.

    (Tupac)
    Come hell or high water.
    Down to slaughter opposes.
    Just another lost soul stuck callin Jehova.
    Outlaw til' it's over.
    Brandish my strap, back like a cobra.
    I stay drunk cause I'ma mad man.
    We're never sober.
    On a one man mission.
    My ambitions to hold up the rap game.
    While I plug holes in niggas like doughnuts.
    And still.
    Down to die for all my souljahs, like hillbillies.
    They don't feel me.
    So we fued.
    Bringin' war to the city.
    With each breath.
    Death before dishonor.
    Never let you swallow me.
    No apologies, your honor.
    A general in war I'm the first to bomb
    With a squad of trusted killers quick to move shit, heavily armed
    I'm similar to Saddam
    Sometimes I question Hussein
    Like fiends fighting for that last vein, stuck in the game
    I hit the scene like sand storms
    Then transform
    Watch me, I take a figga of thirty niggaz, who all got me
    While bitches wondering, who shot me, no love
    Keep a grudge, shooting slugs like Muammar Qadaafi
    Murdered my friend built a new posse
    We takin shots at paparazzi
    Gon fly now
    Nigga like Rocky
    You got a lot of nerve to play me
    Another gay rapper
    Bustin' caps at Jay-Z
    (Buck, buck, buck, buck, buck, buck)
    And still avoid capture
    While you all caught up in the rapture
    Still after me I'm in Jamaica sippin' daiquiris
    No doubt
    We used to havin' nothing
    Then grabbin something and bustin
    Wanted to be the thug nigga
    That my old man wasn't
    I came to a fear catchin' cases, litigation
    Niggaz playa hatin'
    Got me crooked in all 50 states
    I'm screaming Death Row
    Throwing Westside
    Ain't no thang
    We was raised off drive-by's
    Brought up to bang
    We claim mob
    M-O-B., if you be specific
    We control all cash from Atlantic-Pacific
    And get this
    I'm hard to kill
    When I bill with this live spot
    Father
    How the hell did I survive, these 5 shots?

    Live it up or give it up and like demons

    Late night, hear em screaming
    We going All Out

    We going All Out
    Bomb first till they fall out
    Take them the war route
    With out a doubt
    War, which means, we all ride if it's on
    Each nigga handle ya own, bring it on strong
    If you got bills to pay
    Nigga go all out
    Busta's playing with your papes
    Better go all out

    Trying to see the next day
    Nigga go all out

    Obstacles in your way
    Better go all out

    (Napoleon)
    I'm on my land sled
    Walking through the belly of the beast
    Feeling like I'm all out, drunk as can be
    It's plain to see, who are mob niggas hiding in bushes
    Claiming that they ride but they softer than cushion
    They softer than bitches in worst way drowning in blood
    Outlawz my blood brothers I'd die for these thugs
    Say hi to these slugs
    It's a shame how some niggas on the west coast
    Who was riding with Pac
    But when he died they went pop
    I mob the Jers' to the fullest lots of west coast love
    But after Pac stopped rapping ain't no west coast thugs
    Just west coast what?
    To my real niggaz stuck in these street game
    These rappers like Jay-Z
    Who be pumping Kool-Aid through their veins
    It's true what I'm saying

    Slap your soft ass to the floor

    And watch my 4-4 put three holes in your dome
    I Ride or Die

    While these other fag niggas be biting this

    It's all from my heart when I was writing this
    Now it's All Out

    (Kastro)
    We all ride
    And down to die
    Who with us?
    Speak up
    Or get treated like you coming to kill us
    They nothing but squealers
    In this rap game swearing they rough
    Tattoo'd up
    And now them nigga swearing they Pac
    Stop that and watch your back
    We ain't forgot about cha
    These glocks hot
    And when shot would bring the bitch up out cha
    It's me, Kastro
    With the goatee
    Walking like an OG
    Cause all these fag mother fuckas owe me
    I pray to thug lords, like the mother fuckers holy
    Frontline soldier, till the heavens, hold me
    I go all out

    And if you real you real

    Feel what I'm talking 'bout cause this game is real
    I live it
    Forbidden fruit and shoot till they feel it
    Living proof Pac breed niggaz they can't deal with

    Holler back, right back, and watch your mouth

    Or get blood in it
    What, we going all out nigga

    (Chorus) 2X

    Fool, you better go all out
    Keep going all out
    All my niggaz going all out
    Without a mother fucking doubt
    Ey, you niggaz just gone think you gon be a, talking slick on all these mother fucking records
    And we ain't gonna say shit, now it's 99, this is a different grind, (Don't disrespect the Don)
    It's still war mother fuckers
    So lets see you act like you know

    Writer(s): Rufus Cooper, Mutah Beale, Katari Cox, Kastro, 2Pac, Damon Thomas, E.D.I, Yafeu Fula & Malcolm Greenidge.

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