Analisi Accordi

Info rapide sulla canzone

Difficoltà: Facile
5 Accordi Unici
Accordi principali:
LAm
,
REm
,
MI7

Tutti gli Accordi

MI

Hit ‘Em Up

0

Accordi Hit ‘Em Up

I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends (sucka-ass)
                               
That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker
         
West side, Bad Boy killers (take money, take money)
                 
You know who the realest is, niggas, 

we bring it to you (take money)
        
That's aight (Take money)

First off, fuck your 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 Boy niggas fucked for life
                              
Plus, Puffy tryin' to see me weak hearts I rip
       
Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. 

some mark-ass bitches

 We keep on comin' while we runnin' for yo' jewels
       
Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, 

you know the rules

Lil' Ceaser, go ask ya homie how I leave ya
         
Cut your young ass up, leave you in pieces, 

now be deceased

 Lil' Kim, don't fuck around with real G's
         
Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, 

so fuck peace
 
I let them niggas know it's on for life
              
Don't let the Westside ride tonight (haha)
 
Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed
          
Fuck wit' me and get yo' caps peeled, you know, see
                             
Grab ya 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

Nigga, I hit em' up

Check this out, you motherfuckers know 
  
what time it is (take money)

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 little homies ride on you (take money)
             
Bitch made-ass Bad Boy bitches, 

feel it (hey, yo, yo, hold the fuck up, yo)

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 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 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 M.A.F.I.A. 

in front of you, nigga
         
With the ready power tuckin' my Guess 

under my Eddie Bauer
   
Ya clout petty sour, 

I push packages every hour, hit 'em up

Grab ya 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

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 ya mouths open
                   
Tryna come up offa 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' 'bout 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' outta 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 'bout 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 murders occurs
   
No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs
       
Now go check the scenario
                                  
Little Ceas', 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 clique smoked up
                      
What the fuck, is you stupid?
                                          
I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn

With my clique 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
               
And 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

E.D.I 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 known
      
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 (hahaha)

They don't wanna see us (take money)
                        
Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique

Dressing up trying to be us (take money)
                   
How the fuck they gon' be the mob 

when we always on our job? (Take money)
               
We millionaires

Killin' ain't fair but somebody gotta do it 

Oh yeah, Mobb Deep (take money) 
                       
you wanna fuck with us?

You little young-ass motherfuckers (take money)

Don't one of you niggas 
    
got sickle cell or something? (Take money)

You fucking with me
                           
Nigga, you fuck around and have a seizure 

or a heart attack (take money)

You better back the fuck up 

'fore 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 your 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 gon' do this

 Fuck Mobb Deep, fuck Biggie

Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, 
                      
record label and as a motherfuckin' crew
                                    
And if you want to be down with Bad Bo, 

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 sure all y'all kids don't grow

You motherfuckers can't be us or see us
                 
We motherfuckin' Thug Life riders, 

Westside 'til 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 killers and the real niggas
                      
All you motherfuckers feel us
                                   
Our shits go triple and 4-quadruple (Take money)

You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got
           
Guns in they motherfuckers 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 killers (we killers)

## Credits

Autori: GOLDE FRANCINE VICKI, HITCHINGS DUANE S, SHAKUR TUPAC AMARU

Altre canzoni di 2Pac