Here you will find the lyrics of the popular song – “Hit ‘Em Up” from the Movie/Album ” Death Row Greatest Hits”. The song/soundtrack was composed by the famous lyricists ” Tupac Shakur, Bruce Washington, Yafeu Fula, Malcolm Greenidge Duane Hitchings, Franne Golde, and Dennis Lambert” and was released on “June 4, 1996” in the beautiful voice of “2Pac”. The song’s music video features an amazing, talented actor/actress “ Outlawz”. It was released under the music label “Death Row”.

#Hit 'Em Up images

Hit ‘Em Up Lyrics in English

I ain’t got no motherfucking friends

That’s why I fucked your bitch, you fat motherfucker\

Take Money

West Side, Bad Boy killers

Take Money

You know who the realest is

We bring it too

Take money, 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 Boys, niggas fucked for life

Plus Puffy trying to 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 you


Cut your young ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased

Little Kim, don’t fuck around with real G’s

Quick to snatch your 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 the night haha

Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed

Fuck with me and get your caps peeled

You know


See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac

Call the cops when you see 2Pac, oh

Who shot me, but your punks didn’t finish

Now you about 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 know why I’m even on this track

Y’all niggas ain’t even on my level

I’m going to let my little homies ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches

Take money


Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo

Biggie Smalls just got dropped

Little Moo’ pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back

Frank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps

Little accident-murderer, and I ain’t never heard of ya

Poisonous gats attack when I’m serving ya


Spank you, shank your 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 running through, nigga

And I’m smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga

With the ready-power

Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer

Your clout petty/sour, I push packages every hour

I hit ’em up


Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac

Call the cops when you see 2Pac, oh

Who shot me, but your punks didn’t finish

Now you about to feel the wrath of a menace

Nigga, I hit ’em up


Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel

This ain’t no freestyle battle

All you niggas getting killed with your mouths open

Trying to come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping

Smoking dope, it’s like a sherm high

Niggas think they learned to fly


But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die

Talking about you getting money, but it’s funny to me

All you niggas living bummy – why you fucking with me?

I’m a self-made millionaire

Thug livin’, out of prison, pistols in the air haha

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’ll hit ’em up

I’m from N-E-W Jers’ where plenty of murders occurs


No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs

Now go check the scenario: Lil’ Cease

I’ll bring you fake G’s to your knees

Copping pleas in de Janeiro

Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?

Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up


What the fuck, is you stupid?

I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn

With my click looting, shooting and polluting your block

With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot

Outlaw Mafia clique moving 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 Alize 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 motherfucking joke

Thug Life, niggas better be known

Be approaching in the wide open, gun smoking

No need for hoping, it’s a battle lost

I got ’em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off

Nigga, I hit ’em up!


Now you tell me who won

I see them, they run haha

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 gonna be the mob when we always on our job? We millionaires

Killing ain’t fair, but somebody got to do it

Oh yeah, Mobb Deep: you wanna fuck with us?

You little young-ass motherfuckers

Don’t one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something?

You’re fucking with me, nigga


You fuck around and catch a seizure or a heart attack

You better back the fuck up

Before you get smacked the fuck up

This is how we do it on our side

Any of you niggas from New York that want to bring it:

Bring it!


But we ain’t singing, we bringing drama

Fuck you and your motherfucking 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 mother fucking opinion

Well, this is how we gonna do this:


Fuck Mobb Deep, fuck Biggie, fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label and as a motherfucking crew!

And if you want to be down with Bad Boy, 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 motherfucker! We do our job!


You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfuckin’ mob

Ain’t nothing but killers and the real niggas

All you motherfuckers feel us

Our shit goes triple and 4-quadruple

Take money


You niggas laugh cause our staff got guns under they 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-killers

We killers, we killers, we killers


Song Credits & Copyright Details:

Title: Boy’s a Liar

Album: Death Row Greatest Hits

Lyricists: Tupac Shakur, Bruce Washington, Yafeu Fula, Malcolm Greenidge, Duane Hitchings, Franne Golde, Dennis Lambert

Released Date: November 30, 2022

Label: Warner

Cast: Outlawz

Singer: 2Pac

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