Tonalità: A minor•
Verse 1
Am
Dm
Westside, bad boy killers,
Em
Am
you know who the realest is, niggas, we bring it to you
First off, fuck your bitch
and the clique you claim
Dm
Westside, when we ride,
come equipped with game
Em
You claim to be a player,
but I fucked your wife
Am
We bust on bad boys,
niggas, fuck for life
Plus,
Puffy tryna see me,
Greek hearts I rip
Biggie
Dm
Smalls and
Junior
Mafia, some mock -ass bitches
Em
We keep on comin' while we
Am
runnin' for yo' jewels
Steady gunnin',
keep on bustin' at them fools
You know the rules,
Lil'
Ceaser, go ask your homie
how I leave you
Dm
Cut your young ass up,
leave you in pieces
Now be deceased,
Em
Lil'
Am
Kim, don't fuck around with real
G's
Quick to snatch yo' ugly
ass off the streets
So fuck beats,
I let them niggas know it's on for life
Don't let the
Dm
Westside ride the night
Em
Am
Ha -ha, bad boy murdered on wax and kill
Fuck with me and get yo' cat's pill
You know, see,
grab your blocks when you see
Tupac
Dm
Call the cops when you see
Tupac, uh
Em
Who shot me?
Am
Bunch of punks didn't finish
Now you bout to feel the
wrath of a menace
Nigga, I hit him up
Check this out, you motherfuckers
know what time it is
Dm
I don't even know why I'm on this track
Em
Y 'all niggas ain't even on my level
Am
I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you
bitch -made -ass bad -boy bitches
Feel me!
Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo
Smosh just got dropped
Lil'
Em
Moo passed the mat
Am
And let me hit him in his back
Frank
Wright need to get spanked
right for settin' tracks
Little accident murderers,
and I ain't never heard of ya
Dm
Poisonous cats attack
when I'm serving ya
Em
Spank the shank,
Am
get hostile when I gank
Guard your rank, cause
I'ma slam your ass in the paint
Puffy weaker than a fuckin' block,
I'm runnin' through, nigga
Dm
And I'm smokin'
Junior
Mafia in front of you, nigga
Em
With the ready power,
Am
tuckin' my guests under my
Eddie
Bauer
Ya clout petty sour,
I put packages every hour
Hit em up
Grab your
Glocks when you see
Tupac
Dm
Call the cops when you see
Tupac, uh
Em
Who shot me,
Am
but your punks didn't finish
Now you bout to feel the
wrath of a menace
Nigga, we hit em up, how we do it, keep it real,
it's penitentiary steel
Dm
This ain't no freestyle battle,
Em
all you niggas gettin' killed with your mouths open
Am
Tryna come up off of me,
you in the clouds, open
Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm,
all our niggas think they learn to fly
Dm
But they burn, motherfucker,
you deserve to die
Em
Talkin' bout you gettin' money,
but it's funny to me
Am
All you niggas livin' bummy,
why you fuckin' with me?
I'm a self -made millionaire
Dm
Thug livin' out a prison,
pistols in the air
Em
Biggie, remember when I used
Am
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 copy my style
Dm
Five shots couldn't drop me
I took it and smiled
Em
Now I'm bout to set the record straight
AK I'm still the thug that
you love to hate
Motherfucker, hit
I'm from
N .E .W.
Jers
Where plenty murders occurs
Dm
No point to come if we bring the
drama to all you herds
Em
Now go check the scenario
Am
Little scenes, I bring you fake
G's
Sit your knees,
coppin' pleas and degenerio
Little gimmicks, you coped up or doped up
Dm
Get your little junior wife
a click smoked up
Em
What the fuck is you stupid?
Did I take money,
Am
crash and mash through
Brooklyn?
When my clique lootin',
shootin' and pollutin' your block
With 15 -shock, hot clock till you lie,
Dm
outlawin' mafia clique
Movin' up another notch in your
Em
box -top spots
Am
Get mobbed and dropped,
all your fake -ass
East
Coast props
Brainstormed and locked
Use a
B -biter, a park -style taker
Dm
I'll tell you to your face,
you ain't shit but a faker
Em
Am
So for the alizé with a chaser
Bout to get murdered for the paper
E .D. I mean the processing of the caper
Like a loke with low season and
Dm
Em
Am
a choker
Dm
Em
Am
Now you tell me who won,
I see them, they run
They don't wanna see us,
whole junior mafia
clique
Dm
Dressing up tryna be us,
how the fuck they
Em
gon' be the mob when
Am
we always on our job
We millionaires,
killing ain't fair but somebody
gotta do it
Oh yeah,
Mob
D, huh, you wanna fuck with us?
Dm
You little young -ass
motherfuckers
Don't one of you niggas got
Em
sickle cell or something?
Am
You fuckin' with me nigga, you fuckin' with
her and have a seizure or 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
Em
York that wanna bring it, bring it
But we ain't singin',
Am
we bringin' drama
Fuck you and your motherfuckin' mama
We gon' kill all you motherfuckers
Now when I came out,
Dm
I told you it was just about
Biggie
Then everybody had to open their mouth
Em
with a motherfucker opinion
Am
Well, this how we gon' do this
Fuck
Mobb
Fuck
Biggie
Fuck
Bad
Boy as a staff, record label,
Dm
and as a motherfuckin' crew
And if you wanna be down with
Bad
Em
Boy, then fuck you too
Am
Chino
XL, fuck you too
All you motherfuckers, fuck you too
Dm
Take money, take money
Em
All of y 'all motherfuckers, fuck you,
E
Am
die slow, motherfucker
My fo' -fo' make sure all y
'all kids don't grow
You motherfuckers can't
P .S. or
C .S.
Dm
We motherfuckin' thug like
riders westside till we die
Em
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 motherfuckin' mob
Dm
Ain't nothin' but killers and the real niggas,
E
all you motherfuckers feel us
Am
Our shits go triple and four quatruple
You niggas laugh cause our staff got
Dm
guns in they motherfuckin' belts
E
You know how it is when we drop records,
they felt
Am
You niggas can't feel it, we the realest,
fuck em, we bad boy killas
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AccordatoreE A D G B E
AccordiAm Dm Em E
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