Chords for Hit 'Em Up

I ain't got no motherfuckin'
That's why I fucked [Am] your bitch, you fat motherfucker Take my [D] Westside
Bad boy killers [E] Take my
You know who the realest [C] is, niggas
We bring it to [Am] you
_ _ First off, fuck your bitch
And the clique you [D] claim Westside
When [G] we ride, come equipped with game
You claim to be a player, but [Am] I fucked your wife
We bust on bad boys, niggas fuck for life
Plus, Puffy tryna see me weak, hearts I [Dm] rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior Marvy and some mock [E]-ass bitches
We keep [G] on comin' while [C] we runnin' for [Am] your jewels
Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools
You know the rules, Lil' [C] Ceaser, go ask your homie how [Dm] I leave you
Cut your young ass [D] up, leave you in pieces
[G] Now be deceased, Lil' Ken, don't fuck around with [A] real G's
Quick to snatch your ugly ass off the streets
So fuck beats
I let [C] them niggas know it's on for [Dm] life
Don't let the Westside ride the night
[E] Bad boy murdered [C] on wax and [Am] kick
Fuck with me and get your cats killed
You know, see
Grab your blocks when you see [Dm] Tupac
Call the cops when you see [E] Tupac
Who sent me, but [C] your pump's thick [Am] and finished
Now you're about to feel the wrath of a menace
Nigga, I hit him up
[Em] You motherfuckers [Dm] know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this [G] track
Y'all niggas ain't even on my level
I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch [A]-made ass bad boy bitches Feel!
Get out the way, yo, get out the way, [Dm] yo
Biggie Smalls says, got dropped
[Em] Little Moon passed the mat
And let me hit him in [C] his back
Frank Wright need his fake right for [Am] settin' traps
Little accident murderer
And I ain't [Dm] never heard of ya
Poisonous cat attack when I'm [E] servin' ya
Spank and [Em] shake, get [Am] hostile when I yank
Guard your rank, cause I'ma slam your ass in the bank
Puffy weaker than a fuckin' block I'm runnin' through [Dm] nigga
And I smoke a Junior Mafia in front of you [G] nigga
With the ready power
Tuckin' my gas under my [Am] Eddie Bauer
Your clout petty sour
I put packages every hour
Hit him up
Grab your blocks when you see [D] Tupac
Call the cops when you see [G] Tupac
Who shot me, but your pump's thick [Am] and finished
Now you're about to feel the wrath of a menace
Nigga, we hit him up
We probably do it, keep it real
It's [Dm] penitentiary steel
This ain't no freestyle battle
All [Ab] you niggas gettin' killed with your mouths open
[Am] Tryna come up off of me, you in [D] the clouds hopin'
[Am] Smokin' dope, it's like a Sherm-i
Niggas think they learn to [Dm] fly
But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to [E] die
Talkin' bout you gettin' money, but [C] it's funny to [Am] me
All you niggas livin' for me, why you fuckin' with me?
I'm a self-made millionaire
[Dm] Thug livin' out a prison, pistols in the air
Biggie, remember when [G] I used to let you sleep on the [Am] couch
And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house
Now it's all about Versace, you copy my style
Five shots, [Dm] couldn't drop me, I took it and [Em] smiled
Now I'm about to set the record straight
With my [C] AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate
Motherfucker, I'll hit him up
I'm from N.E..W. Jers, with plenty murders and curs [D] No point to come, we bring the drama to [Em] all you heirs Now go check the [C] scenario Little C's, I bring you fake G's Sit your knees, coppin' [A] pleasantries, you're every old Little Kim is [Em] you, coked up [F] or doped up Get your [Dm] little junior, I'm a clique, smoked up What [Em] the fuck is you, stupid? I take money, crashin' [Am] masks through Brooklyn With my clique lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block With 15 shot cocked, locked to [Dm] your knot Outlaw, mafia flick, movin' up another notch In your box top spots, get mobbed and [Am] dropped Lawyer, fake ass, East Coast rocks, brainstormed and locked Use a B-Biter, a Pac style [D] taker I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit but [E] a faker So for the allergies with a chaser [Am] Fuck it, get murdered for the paper E.D.,. I mean the processing of the taper Like a loaf, with a little [D] Caesar and a choke Cause some smoke, we ain't [E] no motherfuckin' joke Thug life, [C] niggas better be [Am] known We approachin', in the wide open, gun smokin' No need for hopin', it's a battle lost I got [Dm] em' crossed as soon as the phone was poppin' off Nigga, I hit em' up [G] [Am] Now you tell me who won I see them, they run They don't wanna see us, [Dm] old junior mafia clique Dressin' up, tryin' to be us [E] How the fuck they gon' be the mob when we always [Am] on our job? We millionaires, killin' ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it Oh yeah, Mob D, huh, you wanna [D] fuck with us? You little young ass motherfuckers Don't [E] one of you niggas got single cell [Em] or somethin' [Am] You fuckin' with me nigga, you fuckin' with me I have a seizure, a heart attack You better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up [Dm] It's how we do it on our side Any of you niggas from New [E] York that wanna bring it, bring it But we ain't [C] singin', we [Am] bringin' drama Fuck you and your motherfuckin' mama We gon' kill all you motherfuckers Now when I came [D] out, I told you, it was just about big Then everybody had to [E] open their mouth for the motherfucker Well [C] this how we [Am] gon' do this Fuck Mob D, fuck Biggie Fuck Bad Boi as a staff, [Dm] record label and as a motherfuckin' truth And if you want to be down with bad boy, [G] then fuck you too. [Am] Chino XL, fuck you too. All you motherfuckers, fuck you too. [Em] _ [F] _ _ [Bb] [Am] All of y [G]'all motherfuckers, fuck you. Die slow, motherfucker. [Am] My phone phone make sure all y'all kids don't grow. You motherfuckers can't be us or [F] see us. You motherfucking thug-like riders, west side till [G] we die. Out here in [Am] California, nigga, we warn you we'll bomb on you motherfuckers. We do our job. You think you mob, nigga, we the [D] motherfucking mob. Ain't nothing but [G] killers and real niggas. All you motherfuckers feel it. Our shits go triple and [Am] four quadruple. _ _ You niggas laugh because our staff [D] got guns in they motherfucking spell. You know [E] how it is when we drop records, they fell. You niggas [C] can't feel it. We the realest. Fuck them. We bad boy killers. We killer. We killer. We killer. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ [N] _