[Intro]
(Sucker-ass)
I ain't got no motherfucking friends
That's why I fucked cho' bitch, you fat motherfucker
Westside, Bad Boy killers (You know)
You know who the realest is, n***as
We bring it too (That's aight, haha)
Haha
First off

[Verse 1]
Fuck yo' bitch and the clique you claim
Westside, when we ride, come equipped with game
You claim da be a player, but I fucked cho' wife
We bust on Bad Boys, n***as fucked for life
Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A., some mark-ass bitches
We keep on coming while we running for your jewels
Steady gunning, keep on busting at them fools, you know the rules
Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya
Cut cha young ass up, leave you in pieces, now, be deceased
Lil' Kim, don't fuck around with real G's
Quick da snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so, fuck peace
I'll let them n***as know it's on for life
Don't let the Westside ride tonight (Haha)
Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed
Fuck with me and get cho' caps peeled, you know, see
[Chorus 1]
Grab yo' Glocks when you see 2Pac
Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh
Who shot me? But chu punks didn't finish
Now you 'bout da feel the wrath of a menace (Uh-huh, yeah)
N***a, I hit 'em up

[Interlude]
Check this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is
Ion't even know why I'm on this track
Y'all n***as ain't even on my level, I'ma let my lil' homies ride
On you bitch-made-ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it

[Chorus 2]
Grab yo' Glocks when you see 2Pac
Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh
Who shot me? But chu punks didn't finish
Now you 'bout da feel the wrath of a menace (Uh-huh, yeah)
N***a, we hit 'em up

[Verse 2]
Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel
This ain't no freestyle battle
All you n***as getting killed wit' cha mouths open
Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping
Smoking dope, it's like a sherm high, n***as think they learned a fly
But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve da die
Talking 'bout cha getting money, but it's funny da me
All you n***as living bummy while you fucking with me
I'm a self-made millionaire
Thug living, out of prison, pistols in the air, haha
Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch
And begged a bitch to let cha sleep in the house? Uh
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 da set the record straight
With my AK, I'm still the thug that cha love da hate
Motherfucker, I hit 'em up
[Outro]
Now, you tell me who won
I see them, they run, hahaha
They don't wanna see us
Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up tryna be us
How the fuck they gon' be the mob when we always on our job? We millionaires
Killing ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it
Oh, yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us?
You lil' young-ass motherfuckers
Don't one of you n***as got sickle-cell or something?
You're fucking with me, n***a, you fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack
You better back the fuck up 'fore you get smacked the fuck up
This how we do it on our side
Any of you n***as from New York that wanna bring it, bring it
But we ain't singing, we bringing drama
Fuck you and yo' motherfucking mama
We gon' kill all you motherfuckers
Now, when I came out, I told cha it was just about Biggie
Then everybody had a open they mouth with a motherfucking opinion
Well, this is how we gon' do this
Fuck Mobb Deep, fuck Biggie
Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and a motherfucking 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
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 motherfucking Thug Life riders, Westside, 'til we die
Out here in California, n***a, we warned ya we'll bomb on you motherfuckers
We do our job
You think you mob? N***a, we the motherfucking mob
Ain't nothing but killers and the real n***as, all you motherfuckers feel us
Our shits go triple and four-quadruple
You n***as laugh 'cause our staff got guns in they motherfuckers' belts
You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt
You n***as can't feel it, we the realest
Fuck 'em, we Bad Boy killers (We killers)