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letra de if tupac had an anime - acrylo

[intro]
i ain’t got no motherf-ckin’ friends
that’s why i f-cked yo’ b-tch, you fat motherf-cker!
(take money) west side, bad boy k!llas
(take money) you know who the realest is
(take money) we bring it too
(take money)

[verse 1]
first off, f-ck yo’ b-tch and the clique you claim
westside when we ride, come equipped with game
you claim to be a player, but i f-cked your wife
we bust on bad boys, n-ggas f-cked for life
plus, puffy tryna see me, weak hearts i rip
biggie smalls and junior m.a.f.i.a. some mark–ss b-tches
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–ss up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased
lil’ kim, don’t f-ck around with real g’s
quick to sn-tch yo’ ugly -ss off the streets, so f-ck peace!
i’ll let them n-ggas know it’s on for life
don’t let the westside ride tonight (ha ha)
bad boy murdered on wax and k!lled
f-ck with me and get yo’ caps peeled, you know

[chorus]
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
n-gga, i hit ’em up!

[interlude]
check this out, you motherf-ckers know what time it is
i don’t even know why i’m on this track
y’all n-ggas ain’t even on my level
i’ma let my little homies ride
on you b-tch-made -ss bad boy b-tches, feel it!

[verse 2]
all you motherf-ckers, f-ck you too!
(take money, take money)
all of y’all motherf-ckers, f-ck you, die slow!
motherf-cker, my .44 make sho’ all y’all kids don’t grow!
you motherf-ckers can’t be us or see us
we motherf-ckin’ thug life ridas
westside ’til we die!
out here in california, n-gga, we warned ya
we’ll bomb on you motherf-ckers! we do our job!
you think you mob? n-gga, we the motherf-ckin’ mob!
ain’t nothin’ but k!llas
and the real n-ggas, all you motherf-ckers feel us
our sh-t goes triple and 4-quadruple
you n-ggas laugh ’cause our staff got guns under their motherf-ckin’ belts
you know how it is: when we drop records, they felt
you n-ggas can’t feel it, we the realest
f-ck ’em, we bad boy k!llas!

[chorus: 2pac]
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
n-gga, we hit ’em up!

[verse 3: 2pac]
peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel
this ain’t no freestyle battle
all you n-ggas gettin’ k!lled with your mouths open
tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin’
smokin’ dope, it’s like a sherm high
n-ggas think they learned to fly
but they burn, motherf-cker, you deserve to die
talkin’ about you gettin’ money, but it’s funny to me
all you n-ggas livin’ bummy while you f-ckin’ with me
i’m a self-made millionaire
thug livin’, out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)
biggie, remember when i used to let you sleep on the couch
and beg a b-tch 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
motherf-cker, i hit ’em up!

[outro]
check this out, you motherf-ckers know what time it is
i don’t even know why i’m on this track
y’all n-ggas ain’t even on my level
i’ma let my little homies ride
on you b-tch-made -ss bad boy b-tches, feel it!

- acrylo

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