Acrylo - If Tupac had an Anime lyrics

I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends
That's why I fucked yo' bitch
You fat motherfucker!
(Take money)  West Side, Bad Boy killas
(Take money) You know who the realest is
(Take money) We bring it too (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 G's
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 (Ha ha)
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!

Check this out
You motherfuckers know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this track
Y'all niggas ain't even on my level
I'ma let my little homies ride
On you bitch made ass Bad Boy bitches
Feel it!

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 '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 killas
And the real niggas
All you motherfuckers feel us
Our shit goes triple and 4-quadruple
You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got
Guns under their motherfuckin' 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!

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 while
You fuckin' 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 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!

Check this out
You motherfuckers know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this track
Y'all niggas ain't even on my level
I'ma let my little homies ride
On you bitch made ass Bad Boy bitches
Feel it!