2Pac – Hit 'Em Up Lyrics

Hit 'Em Up

2Pac

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"Hit 'Em Up." - 2Pac

Tuesday, 20 October 2026, 08:02 am

Album: Greatest Hits

Track No: 12

First off **** and the clique you claim
Westside, when we ride, come equipped with game
You claim to be a player, but I **** your wife
We bust on Bad Boys, **** **** for life
Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. some **** **** ****
We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels
Steady ****, 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 **** around with real Gs
Quick to snatch your ugly ass off the streets, so **** peace
I'll let them **** know it's on for life
Don't let the Westside ride tonight, ha, ha
Bad Boy ****
**** with me, get your caps peeled, you know, see
Grab your **** 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, ****, I hit 'em up
Take money, take money
Check this out, you **** know what time it is, I don't even know why I'm on this track
They ain't even on my level, I'ma let my little homies ride on you **** ass, Bad Boy ****, feel it
Take money, take money
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 Wright need to get spanked right for settin' traps
Little accident murderers and I ain't never heard of ya
Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya
Spank and shank your whole style when I gank
Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint
Puffy weaker than the **** block I'm runnin' through, ****
And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, ****
With the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer
Your clout petty, sour, I push packages every hour, hit 'em up
Grab your **** 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, ****, we hit 'em up
Peep how we do it, we keep it real as penitentiary steel
This ain't no freestyle battle, all you **** 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, **** think they learned to fly
But they burn, ****, you deserve to die
Talkin' 'bout you gettin' money but it's funny to me
**** livin' bummy while you **** with me
I'm a self-made millionaire, thug livin' out of prison, pistols in the air
Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch?
And beg a **** 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 'bout to set the record straight
**** I'm still the thug that you love to hate
****, I hit 'em up
I'm from N-E-W Jers', where plenty 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'as to your knees, coppin' pleas in De Janeiro
Lil' Kim, is you coked up or doped up?
Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up
What the ****, is you stupid?
I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn
With my clique, lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block
With fifteen **** to your knot
Outlaw Mafia Clique movin' up another notch
And your box top spots get mopped and dropped
All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked
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, 'bout to get murdered for the paper
E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper, like a loc' with Lil' Caesar in a choke
Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no **** joke
Thug life, **** 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 poppin' off
****, hit 'em up
Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run
They don't wanna see us, whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressin' up, tryna be us
Take money, take money
**** they gon' be the mob when we always on our job? We millionaires, killin' ain't fair but somebody gotta do it
Take money, take money
Oh, yeah, Mobb Deep, you ****, you lil' young-ass ****
Take money, take money
Don't one of you **** got Sickle-Cell or somethin'?
Take money, take money
**** have a seizure or a heart attack, you better back **** 'fore you get smacked ****, this how we do it on our side
Any you **** from New York that wanna bring it, bring it, but we ain't singin', we bringin' drama
**** you and your **** mama
We gon' ****
Now when I came out I told you it's just about Biggie
Then everybody had to open they mouth **** opinion
Well, this how we gon' do this, **** Mobb Deep, **** Biggie
**** Bad Boy as a staff, record label and as a **** crew
And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then **** too
Chino XL, **** too, all you ****
Take money, take money
All y'all **** die slow, my .44 make sure all Y'all kids don't grow
You **** can't be us or see us
Thug Life riders, Westside till we die
Out here in California, ****, we warned ya, we'll bomb on you ****
We do our job, you think you mobbin'?
Ain't nothin' but killers in the real ****, all you **** feel us
Our shits go triple and four quadruple
Take money
**** 'cause our staff got guns in they **** belts
You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt
**** feel it, we the realest, **** we Bad Boy ****

Writer(s): 2Pac, Duane S. Hitchings, Franne Golde, Dennis Lambert, Johnny Jackson, Yafeu Fula, Malcolm Greenidge & Bruce Washington.

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