Hit 'Em Up (feat. Outlawz)

I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends (sucka-ass)
That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucka

(Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas
(Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is
(Take money) niggas, we bring it too
That's a'ight
(Take money)

First off, fuck yo' bitch and the clique you claim
Westside, when we ride, come equipped with game
You claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife
We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life
Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior MAFIA some mark-ass bitches
We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels
Steady gunnin', 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 fuck around with real Gs
Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets
So fuck, peace
I'll let them niggas know it's on for life
Don't let the Westside ride tonight
Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed
Fuck with me and get yo' caps peeled
You know, see

Grab your Glocks 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
Nigga, I hit 'em up (yeah)

Check this out (take money)
You motherfuckers know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this track (take money)
Y'all niggas ain't even on my level
I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch-made ass (take money)
Bad Boy bitches, feel it (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 White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps
Little accident murderer and I ain't never heard of ya
Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya
Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank
Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint
Puffy weaker than the fuckin' block I'm runnin' through, nigga
And I'm smokin' Junior MAFIA in front of you, nigga
With the ready power tucked in my Guess, under my Eddie Bauer
Your clout petty, sour, I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up

Grab your Glocks 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
Nigga, we hit 'em up

Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel
This ain't no freestyle battle
All you niggas 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, niggas think they learned to fly
But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die
Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me
All you niggas livin' bummy, why you fuckin' 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 bitch 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 back to set the record straight
With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate
Motherfucker, I hit 'em up

I'm from N-E-W Jers', where plenty of murders occurs
No points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs
Now go check the scenario
Little Cease, I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro
Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?
Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up
What the fuck? Is you stupid?
I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn
With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block
With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot
Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch
And your pop stars popped and 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
About to get murdered for the paper
EDI mean approach the scene of the caper
Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke
Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke
Thug Life, niggas 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 boppin' off
Nigga, I hit 'em up

Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run
They don't wanna see us (take money)
Whole Junior MAFIA clique dressin' up, tryna be us (take money)
How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job? We millionaires (take money)
Killin' ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it (take money)

Oh, yeah, Mobb Deep, huh
You wanna fuck with us? (Take money)
You little young-ass motherfuckers (take money)
Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or somethin'? (Take money)
You're fuckin' with me, nigga
You fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack (take money)
You better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up
This is how we do it on our side
Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it
But we ain't singin', we bringin' drama
Fuck you and yo' motherfuckin' mama
We gon' kill all you motherfuckers

Now, when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie
Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfuckin' opinion
Well, this is how we gonna do this
Fuck Mobb Deep, fuck Biggie
Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label and as a motherfuckin' crew
And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too
Chino XL, fuck you too
All you motherfuckers, fuck you too (take money, take money)
All of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow, motherfucker
My 44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow
You motherfuckers can't be us or see us
We motherfuckin' Thug Life ridas, Westside till we die
Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya
We'll bomb on you motherfuckers, we do our job
You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfuckin' mob
Ain't nothin' but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us
Our shit goes triple and 4-quadruple (take money)
You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns under they motherfuckas belts
You know how it is: When we drop records, they felt
You niggas can't feel it, we the realest
Fuck 'em, we Bad Boy killas

A Fúria Lírica de 2Pac em Hit Em Up': Uma Diss Track Histórica

A música 'Hit 'Em Up', lançada por 2Pac em 1996, é uma das diss tracks mais notórias da história do hip-hop. A faixa é um ataque direto a The Notorious B.I.G. (Biggie Smalls), Puff Daddy (atualmente conhecido como Diddy) e ao selo Bad Boy Records, além de outros artistas associados, como Mobb Deep e Chino XL. A música é marcada por sua agressividade lírica e acusações pessoais, refletindo a intensidade da rivalidade entre a Costa Oeste e a Costa Leste dos Estados Unidos na época.

A letra de 'Hit 'Em Up' é repleta de insultos e ameaças, com 2Pac alegando ter tido um caso com a esposa de Biggie e atacando a credibilidade de seus adversários. A faixa também é uma demonstração de lealdade à sua própria equipe, os Outlawz, e à região da Costa Oeste. A música foi uma resposta ao que 2Pac acreditava serem alusões a ele na música 'Who Shot Ya?' de Biggie, embora Biggie tenha negado que a música fosse sobre 2Pac. A referência a 'cinco tiros' na letra de 'Hit 'Em Up' remete ao incidente em 1994, quando 2Pac foi baleado em um estúdio de gravação em Nova York, um evento que intensificou a rivalidade.

A influência de 'Hit 'Em Up' vai além da sua natureza confrontativa. A faixa é um exemplo da habilidade de 2Pac como letrista e sua capacidade de canalizar emoções cruas em sua música. A música também destaca a tensão e a violência que permeavam o cenário do rap nos anos 90, culminando tragicamente nos assassinatos de ambos, 2Pac e Biggie. 'Hit 'Em Up' permanece como um marco na cultura hip-hop, simbolizando a brutalidade e a sinceridade que podem ser expressas através da arte do rap.