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That's cause he's an awesome producer. His beats are top notch.
[Chorus: K-Ci and JoJo]
How do you want it? How does it feel?
Comin up as a in the cash game
livin in the fast lane; I'm for real
How do you want it? How do you feel?
Comin up as a in the cash game
livin in the fast lane; I'm for real
[Verse One: 2Pac]
Love the way you activate your hips and push your ass out
Got a wantin it so bad I'm bout to pass out
Wanna dig you, and I can't even lie about it
Baby just alleviate your clothes, time to fly up out it
Catch you at a club, oh you got me fiendin
Body talkin to me but I can't comprehend the meaning
Now if you wanna roll with me, then here's your chance
Doin eighty on the freeway, police catch me if you can
Forgive me i'm a rider, still I'm just a simple man
All I want is money, the fame I'm a simple man
Mr. International, playa with the passport
Just like Aladdin , get you anything you ask for
It's either him or me -- champagne, Hennessey
A favorite of my homies when we floss, on our enemies
Witness as we creep to a low speed, peep what a hoe need
Puff some mo' weed, funk, ya don't need
Approachin hoochies with a passion, been a long day
But I've been driven by attraction in a strong way
Your body is bangin baby I love it when you flaunt it
Time to give it to daddy now tell me how you want it
(Tell me how you want it! La-dy, yeahhhyeah)
[Chorus]
[Verse Two: 2Pac]
Tell me is it cool to ?
Did you think I come to talk am I a fool or what?
Positions on the floor it's like erotic, ironic
cause I'm somewhat psychotic
I'm hittin switches on es like I been fixed with
hydraulics
Up and down like a roller coaster, I'm up inside ya
I ain't quittin til the show is over, cause I'ma rider
In and out just like a robbery, I'll probably be a freak
and let you get on top of me, get her rockin these
Nights full of Alize, a livin legend
You ain't heard about these z play these Cali days
Delores Tucker, youse a mother er
Instead of tryin to help a you destroy a brother
Worse than the others -- Bill Clinton, Mr. Bob Dole
You're too old to understand the way the game is told
You're lame so I gotta hit you with the hot facts
Want some on lease? I'm makin millions, z top that
They wanna censor me; they'd rather see me in a cell
livin in -- only a few of us'll live to tell
Now everybody talkin bout us I could give a
I'd be the first one to bomb and cuss
tell me how you want it
[Chorus]
[Verse Three: 2Pac]
Raised as a youth, tell the truth I got the scoop
on how to get a bulletproof, because I jumped from the roof
before I was a teenager, mobile phone, SkyPager
Game rules, I'm livin major -- my adversaries
is lookin worried, they paranoid of gettin buried
One of us gon' see the cemetary
My only hope to survive if I wish to stay alive
Gettin high, see the demons in my eyes, before I die
I wanna live my life and ball, make a couple million
And then I'm chillin fade em all, these taxes
got me crossed up and people tryin to sue me
Media is in my business and they actin like they know me
Hahaha, but I'ma mash out, peel out
I'm with it quick I'se quick to whip that in steel out
Yeah it's some new so better get up on it
When ya see me tell a how ya want it
How do you want it?
[Chorus 2X]
[2Pac]
How you want it?
Yeah my Johnny J
Yeah, we out
[Chorus]
[2Pac]
Tell me
[Chorus]
[2Pac]
Cash game, livin in the fast lane, I'm for real
That's cause he's an awesome producer. His beats are top notch.
Who shot ya?
Seperate the weak from the ob-solete
Hard to creep them Brooklyn streets
It's on , all that bickering beef
I can hear sweat trickling down your cheek
Your heartbeat soun like Sasquatch feet
Thundering, shaking the concrete
Finish it, stop, when I foil the plot
Neighbors call the cops said they heard mad shots
Saw me in the drop, three in the corner
Slaughter, electrical tape around your daughter
Old school new school need to learn though
I burn baby burn like Disco Inferno
Burn slow like blunts with ya-yo
Peel more skins than Idaho potato
z know, the lyrics molestin is takin place
in with B.I.G. it ain't safe
I make your skin chafe, rashes on the masses
Bumps and bruises, blunts and Landcruisers
Big Poppa smash fools, bash fools
z mad because I know that Cash Rules
Everything Around Me, two glock nines
Any mother er whispering about mines
And I'm, Crooklyn's finest
You rewind this, Bad Boy's behind this
B.I.G.
There is no such thing.
2pac verbally beat him down with hit em up, one of the most vicious songs ever recorded.
I ain't got no mutha in friends
Thats why I ed your
You fat mutha- a {Take Money}
West Side
Bad Boy Killers {Take Money}
You know who the realist is
s we bring it to {Take Money}
(ha ha, that's alright)
First off, your
And the click you claim
West side when we ride
Come equipped with game
You claim to be a playa
But, I ed your wife
We bust on Bad Boys
s for Life
Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak
Hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia
Some mark ass es
We keep on coming
While we running for yah jewels
Steady gunning
Keep on busting at them fools
You know the rules
Little Ceasar go ask you homie
How i'll leave yah
Cut your young ass up
See yah in pieces
Now be deceased
Little Kim,
Don't around with real G's
Quick to snatch your ugly ass, off the streets
So peace
I'll let them s know
It's on for Life
Don't let the west side
Ride the night (ha ha)
Bad Boys murdered on Wax and kill
with me
And get your caps peeled
You know, See
[Chorus]
Grab your glocks when you see 2pac
Call the cops when you see 2pac, Uhh
Who shot me,
But, your punks didn't finish
Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace
, I hit 'em up
Check this out
You mutha- as know what time it is
I don't know why I'm even on this track
Y'all s ain't even on my level
I'm going to let my little homies
Ride on yah
made ass Bad Boys es
{ahh yo, yo, hold the up}
Get out the way yo
Get out the way yo
Biggie Smalls just got dropped
Little move pa*s the mac
And let me hit 'em in his back
Frank White needs to get spanked right
For setting up traps
Little accident murderers
And I ain't never heard of yah
Poise less gats attack when I'm serving yah
Spank the shank
Your whole style when I gank
Guard your rank
Cause I'm a slam your ass in a pang
Puffy weaker than a in' block
I'm running through
And I'm smoking Junior Mafia
In front of yah
With the ready power
Tucked in my Guess
Under my Eddie Bower
Your clout petty sour
I push packages ever hour
I hit 'em up
[Chorus]
Grab your glocks when you see 2pac
Call the cops when you see 2pac, Uhh
Who shot me,
But, your punks didn't finish
Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace
, We hit 'em up
Peep how we do it
Keep it real
Its penitentiary steel
This ain't no freestyle battle
All you s getting killed
With your mouths open
Tryin' to come up off of me
You and the clouds hoping
Smoking dope
It's like a Shermine
s think they learned to fly
But they burn mutha- a you deserve to die
Talking about you Getting Money
But its funny to me
All you s living bummy
While you ing with me?
I'm a self made Millionaire
Thug livin', out of prison
Pistols in the Air {Air} (Ha Ha)
Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch
And beg the to let you sleep in the house
Now its 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 A-K
I'm still the thug that you love to hate
Mutha- a I'll Hit 'Em Up
I'm from N E W Jers.
Where plenty of murder occurs
No points to come
We bring drama to all you herds
Now go check the scenerio
Little Ceas'
I'll bring you fake G's to yah knees
Copin' pleas with these
Little Kim is yah
Coked up or doped up
Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up
What the ?
Is you stupid?
I take money,
crash and mash through Brooklyn
With my click looting, shooting, and polluting your block
With fifteen shot,
ed glock to your knot
Outlaw Mafia click moving up another notch
And your Pop stars popped and get dropped and mopped
And all your fake ass east coast props
Brainstormed and locked
You'se a beat biter
Pac style taker
I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothing but a faker
So fill the Alize with a chaser
'bout to get murdered for the paper
E.d.i I mean post the scene of the caper
Like a loc, with little Ceas' in a choke (uhh)
Toting smoke, we ain't no mutha- in' joke
Thug Life, s better be known
Be approaching
In the wide open, gun smoking
No need for hoping
It's a battle lost
I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off
, I hit 'em up
Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run (ha ha)
They don't wanna see us
Whole Junior Mafia click
Dressing up to be us
How the they gonna be the Mob?
When we always on out job
We millionaire's
Killing ain't fair
But somebody got to do it
Oh yah Mobb Deep (uhh)
You wanna with us
You Little young ass mutha- as
Don't one of you s got sickle-cell or something
You ing with me, ?
You around and catch a seizure or a heart-attack
You better back the up
Before you get smacked the up
This is how we do it on our side
Any of you s from New York that want to bring it,
Bring it.
But we ain't singing,
We bringing drama
you and your mother ing mama.
We gonna kill all you mother ers.
Now when I came out, I told you it was just about biggie.
Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother in opinion
Well this is how we gon' do this:
Mobb Deep,
Biggie,
Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a mother in crew.
And if you want to be down with Bad Boy,
Then you too.
Chino XL, you too.
All you mother ers,
you too.
(take money, take money)
All of y'all mother ers,
you, die slow mother er.
My fo' fo' (.44 magnum) make sure all yo' kids don't grow.
You mother ers can't be us or see us.
We mother in' Thug Life riders.
West Side till' we die.
Out here in California,
We warned ya'
We'll bomb on you mother ers.
We do our job.
You think you the mob, , we the mother in' mob
Ain't nuttin' but killers
And the real s, all you mother ers feel us.
Our goes triple and four quadruple
You s laugh cuz our staff got guns under they mother in' belts
You know how it is and we drop records they felt
You s can't feel it
We the realist
'em.
We Bad Boy killas.
I'm not gonna lie. He did destroy Biggie with that one. One of the best diss tracks ever.
The answer:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Spyj90yhao
Not just Biggie...Bad Boys.
Cunninglynguists
Tony Parker.
Yeah.
But Biggie is a better rapper than 2pac.
they both Suck and SUCKED!
they both Suck and SUCKED!
Thanks for your insight.
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