[{"id":9886809,"name":"Hit ’em Up","trackName":"Hit ’em Up","artistName":"2Pac","albumName":"Hit ’em Up","duration":323.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\nYeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\nHey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n(I think they do)\n\nWhen this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\nI want all the West Coast people to give up some love\nWhen this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\nThey tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\nThey don't wanna play my song\nBut they wanna play fat boy over here\nWhat? Come on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (What's up)\n\nFirst off, f- and the clique you claim\nWestside when we ride, come equipped with game\nYou claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\nWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\nPlus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\nBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\nWe keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\nSteady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\nLil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\nCut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\nLil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\nQuick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\nI'll let them n- know it's on for life\nDon't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\nBad Boy murdered on wax and killed\nF- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\nSee, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nN-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\nCheck this out\nWest Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\nGet out the way yo, get out the way yo\nBiggie Smalls just got shot\nLittle Moo', pass the MAC\nAnd let me hit him in his back\n\nFrank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\nLittle accident murderer\nAnd I ain't never heard of ya\nPoisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\nSpank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\nGuard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\nP- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\nAnd I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\nWith the ready power\nTucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\nI push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\nWhen you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, say what?\n\nPeep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\nThis ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\nWith your mouths open\nTryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\nSmokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\nN- think they learned to fly\nBut they burn, you deserve to die\nTalkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\nAll you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\nI'm a self-made millionaire\nThug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\nBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\nAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\nNow it's all about Versace, you copied my style\nFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\nNow I'm back to set the record straight\n\nWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\nI'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\nNo points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\nNow go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\nI'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\nLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\nGet your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\nWhat the, is you stupid\nI take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\nWith my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\nWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\nOutlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\nAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\nAll your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\nYou's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\nI'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\nSofter than Alize with a chaser\nAbout to get murdered for the paper\n\nE.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\nLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\nGun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\nBetter be knowin'\nWe approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\nNo need for hopin', it's a battle lost\nI got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\nI hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\nWe hit 'em up\nGrab your glocks when you see Tupac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nHit 'em up, that's right!\n\n(Take money, take money)","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.49] We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n[00:03.73] Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n[00:04.97] Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n[00:05.96] (I think they do)\n[00:06.95] When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n[00:07.73] I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n[00:08.55] When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n[00:09.14] They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n[00:09.90] They don't wanna play my song\n[00:10.36] But they wanna play fat boy over here\n[00:10.67] What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:11.11] Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:11.68] Come on, come on (What's up)\n[00:12.85] First off, f- and the clique you claim\n[00:15.11] Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n[00:17.83] You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n[00:20.11] We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n[00:22.57] Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n[00:25.19] Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n[00:28.19] We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n[00:30.59] Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n[00:33.42] Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n[00:35.53] Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n[00:38.18] Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n[00:40.55] Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n[00:43.54] I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n[00:45.60] Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n[00:48.39] Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n[00:50.52] F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n[00:53.08] See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[00:55.75] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[00:58.42] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:00.71] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:02.72] N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n[01:04.29] Check this out\n[01:05.27] West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n[01:07.87] \n[01:13.25] Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n[01:16.25] Biggie Smalls just got shot\n[01:17.81] Little Moo', pass the MAC\n[01:19.36] And let me hit him in his back\n[01:20.81] Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n[01:23.78] Little accident murderer\n[01:24.86] And I ain't never heard of ya\n[01:26.28] Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n[01:28.74] Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n[01:30.88] Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n[01:33.62] P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n[01:36.15] And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n[01:38.56] With the ready power\n[01:39.61] Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n[01:41.65] I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n[01:44.45] When you see 2Pac\n[01:47.13] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[01:49.58] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:51.64] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:53.69] Nigga, say what?\n[01:55.02] Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n[01:56.64] This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n[01:59.28] With your mouths open\n[02:00.45] Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n[02:03.03] Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n[02:05.03] N- think they learned to fly\n[02:06.18] But they burn, you deserve to die\n[02:08.85] Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n[02:11.15] All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n[02:13.67] I'm a self-made millionaire\n[02:15.82] Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n[02:18.41] Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n[02:20.71] And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n[02:23.44] Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n[02:27.06] Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n[02:29.02] Now I'm back to set the record straight\n[02:31.42] With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n[02:34.73] I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n[02:37.12] No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n[02:39.77] Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n[02:41.92] I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n[02:44.73] Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n[02:46.73] Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n[02:49.58] What the, is you stupid\n[02:50.55] I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n[02:52.99] With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n[02:55.54] With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n[02:57.49] Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n[02:59.87] And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n[03:02.48] All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n[03:04.78] You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n[03:06.70] I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n[03:09.53] Softer than Alize with a chaser\n[03:11.67] About to get murdered for the paper\n[03:13.26] E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n[03:15.26] Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n[03:17.71] Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n[03:21.34] Better be knowin'\n[03:22.12] We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n[03:24.47] No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n[03:26.11] I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n[03:28.75] I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n[03:31.31] \n[03:34.08] We hit 'em up\n[03:36.73] Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n[03:38.89] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[03:41.05] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[03:42.96] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[03:44.61] Hit 'em up, that's right!\n[03:46.08] (Take money, take money)\n[03:46.61] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Hit ’em Up\n artist: 2Pac\n album: Hit ’em Up\n duration_ms: 323000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n start_ms: 2490\n end_ms: 3730\n- text: Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n start_ms: 3730\n end_ms: 4970\n- text: Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n start_ms: 4970\n end_ms: 5960\n- text: (I think they do)\n start_ms: 5960\n end_ms: 6950\n- text: When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n start_ms: 6950\n end_ms: 7730\n- text: I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n start_ms: 7730\n end_ms: 8550\n- text: When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n start_ms: 8550\n end_ms: 9140\n- text: They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n start_ms: 9140\n end_ms: 9900\n- text: They don't wanna play my song\n start_ms: 9900\n end_ms: 10360\n- text: But they wanna play fat boy over here\n start_ms: 10360\n end_ms: 10670\n- text: What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 10670\n end_ms: 11110\n- text: Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 11110\n end_ms: 11680\n- text: Come on, come on (What's up)\n start_ms: 11680\n end_ms: 12850\n- text: First off, f- and the clique you claim\n start_ms: 12850\n end_ms: 15110\n- text: Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n start_ms: 15110\n end_ms: 17830\n- text: You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n start_ms: 17830\n end_ms: 20110\n- text: We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n start_ms: 20110\n end_ms: 22570\n- text: Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n start_ms: 22570\n end_ms: 25190\n- text: Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n start_ms: 25190\n end_ms: 28190\n- text: We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n start_ms: 28190\n end_ms: 30590\n- text: Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n start_ms: 30590\n end_ms: 33420\n- text: Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n start_ms: 33420\n end_ms: 35530\n- text: Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n start_ms: 35530\n end_ms: 38180\n- text: Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n start_ms: 38180\n end_ms: 40550\n- text: Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n start_ms: 40550\n end_ms: 43540\n- text: I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n start_ms: 43540\n end_ms: 45600\n- text: Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n start_ms: 45600\n end_ms: 48390\n- text: Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n start_ms: 48390\n end_ms: 50520\n- text: F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n start_ms: 50520\n end_ms: 53080\n- text: See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 53080\n end_ms: 55750\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 55750\n end_ms: 58420\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 58420\n end_ms: 60710\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 60710\n end_ms: 62720\n- text: N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n start_ms: 62720\n end_ms: 64290\n- text: Check this out\n start_ms: 64290\n end_ms: 65270\n- text: West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n start_ms: 65270\n end_ms: 67870\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 67870\n end_ms: 73250\n- text: Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n start_ms: 73250\n end_ms: 76250\n- text: Biggie Smalls just got shot\n start_ms: 76250\n end_ms: 77810\n- text: Little Moo', pass the MAC\n start_ms: 77810\n end_ms: 79360\n- text: And let me hit him in his back\n start_ms: 79360\n end_ms: 80810\n- text: Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n start_ms: 80810\n end_ms: 83780\n- text: Little accident murderer\n start_ms: 83780\n end_ms: 84860\n- text: And I ain't never heard of ya\n start_ms: 84860\n end_ms: 86280\n- text: Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n start_ms: 86280\n end_ms: 88740\n- text: Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n start_ms: 88740\n end_ms: 90880\n- text: Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n start_ms: 90880\n end_ms: 93620\n- text: P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n start_ms: 93620\n end_ms: 96150\n- text: And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n start_ms: 96150\n end_ms: 98560\n- text: With the ready power\n start_ms: 98560\n end_ms: 99610\n- text: Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n start_ms: 99610\n end_ms: 101650\n- text: I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 101650\n end_ms: 104450\n- text: When you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 104450\n end_ms: 107130\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 107130\n end_ms: 109580\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 109580\n end_ms: 111640\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 111640\n end_ms: 113690\n- text: Nigga, say what?\n start_ms: 113690\n end_ms: 115020\n- text: Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n start_ms: 115020\n end_ms: 116640\n- text: This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n start_ms: 116640\n end_ms: 119280\n- text: With your mouths open\n start_ms: 119280\n end_ms: 120450\n- text: Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n start_ms: 120450\n end_ms: 123030\n- text: Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n start_ms: 123030\n end_ms: 125030\n- text: N- think they learned to fly\n start_ms: 125030\n end_ms: 126180\n- text: But they burn, you deserve to die\n start_ms: 126180\n end_ms: 128850\n- text: Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n start_ms: 128850\n end_ms: 131150\n- text: All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n start_ms: 131150\n end_ms: 133670\n- text: I'm a self-made millionaire\n start_ms: 133670\n end_ms: 135820\n- text: Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n start_ms: 135820\n end_ms: 138410\n- text: Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n start_ms: 138410\n end_ms: 140710\n- text: And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n start_ms: 140710\n end_ms: 143440\n- text: Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n start_ms: 143440\n end_ms: 147060\n- text: Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n start_ms: 147060\n end_ms: 149020\n- text: Now I'm back to set the record straight\n start_ms: 149020\n end_ms: 151420\n- text: With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n start_ms: 151420\n end_ms: 154730\n- text: I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n start_ms: 154730\n end_ms: 157120\n- text: No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n start_ms: 157120\n end_ms: 159770\n- text: 'Now go check the scenario: Lil'' Cease'\n start_ms: 159770\n end_ms: 161920\n- text: I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n start_ms: 161920\n end_ms: 164730\n- text: Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n start_ms: 164730\n end_ms: 166730\n- text: Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n start_ms: 166730\n end_ms: 169580\n- text: What the, is you stupid\n start_ms: 169580\n end_ms: 170550\n- text: I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n start_ms: 170550\n end_ms: 172990\n- text: With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n start_ms: 172990\n end_ms: 175540\n- text: With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n start_ms: 175540\n end_ms: 177490\n- text: Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n start_ms: 177490\n end_ms: 179870\n- text: And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n start_ms: 179870\n end_ms: 182480\n- text: All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n start_ms: 182480\n end_ms: 184780\n- text: You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n start_ms: 184780\n end_ms: 186700\n- text: I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n start_ms: 186700\n end_ms: 189530\n- text: Softer than Alize with a chaser\n start_ms: 189530\n end_ms: 191670\n- text: About to get murdered for the paper\n start_ms: 191670\n end_ms: 193260\n- text: E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n start_ms: 193260\n end_ms: 195260\n- text: Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n start_ms: 195260\n end_ms: 197710\n- text: Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n start_ms: 197710\n end_ms: 201340\n- text: Better be knowin'\n start_ms: 201340\n end_ms: 202120\n- text: We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n start_ms: 202120\n end_ms: 204470\n- text: No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n start_ms: 204470\n end_ms: 206110\n- text: I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n start_ms: 206110\n end_ms: 208750\n- text: I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n start_ms: 208750\n end_ms: 211310\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 211310\n end_ms: 214080\n- text: We hit 'em up\n start_ms: 214080\n end_ms: 216730\n- text: Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n start_ms: 216730\n end_ms: 218890\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 218890\n end_ms: 221050\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 221050\n end_ms: 222960\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 222960\n end_ms: 224610\n- text: Hit 'em up, that's right!\n start_ms: 224610\n end_ms: 226080\n- text: (Take money, take money)\n start_ms: 226080\n end_ms: 226610\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 226610\nplain: |-\n We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n (I think they do)\n\n When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\n They don't wanna play my song\n But they wanna play fat boy over here\n What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (What's up)\n\n First off, f- and the clique you claim\n Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\n Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\n Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\n I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\n See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\n Check this out\n West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\n Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n Biggie Smalls just got shot\n Little Moo', pass the MAC\n And let me hit him in his back\n\n Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n Little accident murderer\n And I ain't never heard of ya\n Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\n Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\n With the ready power\n Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\n When you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, say what?\n\n Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n With your mouths open\n Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\n Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n N- think they learned to fly\n But they burn, you deserve to die\n Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\n All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n I'm a self-made millionaire\n Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\n And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n Now I'm back to set the record straight\n\n With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\n I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\n Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n What the, is you stupid\n I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\n With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\n You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n Softer than Alize with a chaser\n About to get murdered for the paper\n\n E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n Better be knowin'\n We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\n No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n We hit 'em up\n Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Hit 'em up, that's right!\n\n (Take money, take money)\n"},{"id":33512934,"name":"Hit Em Up","trackName":"Hit Em Up","artistName":"2Pac","albumName":"Hit Em Up","duration":316.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\nYeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\nHey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n(I think they do)\n\nWhen this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\nI want all the West Coast people to give up some love\nWhen this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\nThey tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\nThey don't wanna play my song\nBut they wanna play fat boy over here\nWhat? Come on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (What's up)\n\nFirst off, f- and the clique you claim\nWestside when we ride, come equipped with game\nYou claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\nWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\nPlus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\nBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\nWe keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\nSteady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\nLil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\nCut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\nLil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\nQuick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\nI'll let them n- know it's on for life\nDon't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\nBad Boy murdered on wax and killed\nF- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\nSee, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nN-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\nCheck this out\nWest Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\nGet out the way yo, get out the way yo\nBiggie Smalls just got shot\nLittle Moo', pass the MAC\nAnd let me hit him in his back\n\nFrank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\nLittle accident murderer\nAnd I ain't never heard of ya\nPoisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\nSpank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\nGuard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\nP- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\nAnd I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\nWith the ready power\nTucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\nI push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\nWhen you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, say what?\n\nPeep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\nThis ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\nWith your mouths open\nTryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\nSmokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\nN- think they learned to fly\nBut they burn, you deserve to die\nTalkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\nAll you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\nI'm a self-made millionaire\nThug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\nBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\nAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\nNow it's all about Versace, you copied my style\nFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\nNow I'm back to set the record straight\n\nWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\nI'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\nNo points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\nNow go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\nI'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\nLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\nGet your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\nWhat the, is you stupid\nI take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\nWith my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\nWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\nOutlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\nAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\nAll your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\nYou's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\nI'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\nSofter than Alize with a chaser\nAbout to get murdered for the paper\n\nE.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\nLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\nGun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\nBetter be knowin'\nWe approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\nNo need for hopin', it's a battle lost\nI got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\nI hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\nWe hit 'em up\nGrab your glocks when you see Tupac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nHit 'em up, that's right!\n\n(Take money, take money)","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.37] We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n[00:05.58] Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n[00:13.35] Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n[00:18.38] (I think they do)\n[00:19.67] When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n[00:22.08] I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n[00:23.83] When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n[00:25.23] They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n[00:28.48] They don't wanna play my song\n[00:30.36] But they wanna play fat boy over here\n[00:33.13] What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:35.68] Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:37.93] Come on, come on (What's up)\n[00:41.17] First off, f- and the clique you claim\n[00:43.30] Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n[00:46.17] You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n[00:48.64] We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n[00:51.37] Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n[00:53.96] Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n[00:57.01] We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n[00:58.90] Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n[01:01.83] Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n[01:04.63] Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n[01:06.77] Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n[01:08.93] Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n[01:11.94] I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n[01:14.04] Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n[01:17.03] Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n[01:18.89] F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n[01:22.10] See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[01:24.29] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[01:26.97] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:29.17] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:31.33] N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n[01:34.54] Check this out\n[01:37.54] West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n[01:42.43] Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n[01:44.08] Biggie Smalls just got shot\n[01:46.68] Little Moo', pass the MAC\n[01:48.11] And let me hit him in his back\n[01:49.85] Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n[01:52.01] Little accident murderer\n[01:53.98] And I ain't never heard of ya\n[01:55.16] Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n[01:57.07] Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n[01:59.67] Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n[02:01.53] P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n[02:05.60] And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n[02:07.53] With the ready power\n[02:09.01] Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n[02:10.23] I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n[02:12.53] When you see 2Pac\n[02:14.65] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[02:17.44] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[02:19.51] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[02:20.76] Nigga, say what?\n[02:22.79] Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n[02:25.57] This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n[02:27.79] With your mouths open\n[02:29.17] Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n[02:31.75] Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n[02:33.58] N- think they learned to fly\n[02:34.84] But they burn, you deserve to die\n[02:36.32] Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n[02:39.32] All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n[02:41.78] I'm a self-made millionaire\n[02:43.57] Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n[02:45.74] Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n[02:50.16] And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n[02:52.05] Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n[02:54.75] Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n[02:57.20] Now I'm back to set the record straight\n[02:59.47] With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n[03:02.12] I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n[03:05.48] No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n[03:07.63] Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n[03:09.89] I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n[03:12.71] Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n[03:15.64] Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n[03:17.73] What the, is you stupid\n[03:19.12] I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n[03:21.56] With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n[03:23.46] With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n[03:25.56] Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n[03:27.51] And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n[03:29.97] All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n[03:32.73] You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n[03:35.20] I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n[03:38.03] Softer than Alize with a chaser\n[03:40.13] About to get murdered for the paper\n[03:41.78] E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n[03:43.89] Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n[03:46.01] Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n[03:47.92] Better be knowin'\n[03:50.43] We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n[03:52.33] No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n[03:54.41] I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n[03:57.10] I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n[04:02.66] We hit 'em up\n[04:03.87] Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n[04:05.85] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[04:08.12] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[04:10.48] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[04:12.91] Hit 'em up, that's right!\n[04:14.53] (Take money, take money)\n[04:15.54] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Hit Em Up\n artist: 2Pac\n album: Hit Em Up\n duration_ms: 316000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n start_ms: 1370\n end_ms: 5580\n- text: Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n start_ms: 5580\n end_ms: 13350\n- text: Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n start_ms: 13350\n end_ms: 18380\n- text: (I think they do)\n start_ms: 18380\n end_ms: 19670\n- text: When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n start_ms: 19670\n end_ms: 22080\n- text: I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n start_ms: 22080\n end_ms: 23830\n- text: When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n start_ms: 23830\n end_ms: 25230\n- text: They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n start_ms: 25230\n end_ms: 28480\n- text: They don't wanna play my song\n start_ms: 28480\n end_ms: 30360\n- text: But they wanna play fat boy over here\n start_ms: 30360\n end_ms: 33130\n- text: What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 33130\n end_ms: 35680\n- text: Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 35680\n end_ms: 37930\n- text: Come on, come on (What's up)\n start_ms: 37930\n end_ms: 41170\n- text: First off, f- and the clique you claim\n start_ms: 41170\n end_ms: 43300\n- text: Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n start_ms: 43300\n end_ms: 46170\n- text: You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n start_ms: 46170\n end_ms: 48640\n- text: We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n start_ms: 48640\n end_ms: 51370\n- text: Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n start_ms: 51370\n end_ms: 53960\n- text: Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n start_ms: 53960\n end_ms: 57010\n- text: We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n start_ms: 57010\n end_ms: 58900\n- text: Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n start_ms: 58900\n end_ms: 61830\n- text: Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n start_ms: 61830\n end_ms: 64630\n- text: Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n start_ms: 64630\n end_ms: 66770\n- text: Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n start_ms: 66770\n end_ms: 68930\n- text: Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n start_ms: 68930\n end_ms: 71940\n- text: I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n start_ms: 71940\n end_ms: 74040\n- text: Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n start_ms: 74040\n end_ms: 77030\n- text: Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n start_ms: 77030\n end_ms: 78890\n- text: F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n start_ms: 78890\n end_ms: 82100\n- text: See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 82100\n end_ms: 84290\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 84290\n end_ms: 86970\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 86970\n end_ms: 89170\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 89170\n end_ms: 91330\n- text: N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n start_ms: 91330\n end_ms: 94540\n- text: Check this out\n start_ms: 94540\n end_ms: 97540\n- text: West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n start_ms: 97540\n end_ms: 102430\n- text: Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n start_ms: 102430\n end_ms: 104080\n- text: Biggie Smalls just got shot\n start_ms: 104080\n end_ms: 106680\n- text: Little Moo', pass the MAC\n start_ms: 106680\n end_ms: 108110\n- text: And let me hit him in his back\n start_ms: 108110\n end_ms: 109850\n- text: Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n start_ms: 109850\n end_ms: 112010\n- text: Little accident murderer\n start_ms: 112010\n end_ms: 113980\n- text: And I ain't never heard of ya\n start_ms: 113980\n end_ms: 115160\n- text: Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n start_ms: 115160\n end_ms: 117070\n- text: Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n start_ms: 117070\n end_ms: 119670\n- text: Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n start_ms: 119670\n end_ms: 121530\n- text: P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n start_ms: 121530\n end_ms: 125600\n- text: And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n start_ms: 125600\n end_ms: 127530\n- text: With the ready power\n start_ms: 127530\n end_ms: 129010\n- text: Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n start_ms: 129010\n end_ms: 130230\n- text: I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 130230\n end_ms: 132530\n- text: When you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 132530\n end_ms: 134650\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 134650\n end_ms: 137440\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 137440\n end_ms: 139510\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 139510\n end_ms: 140760\n- text: Nigga, say what?\n start_ms: 140760\n end_ms: 142790\n- text: Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n start_ms: 142790\n end_ms: 145570\n- text: This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n start_ms: 145570\n end_ms: 147790\n- text: With your mouths open\n start_ms: 147790\n end_ms: 149170\n- text: Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n start_ms: 149170\n end_ms: 151750\n- text: Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n start_ms: 151750\n end_ms: 153580\n- text: N- think they learned to fly\n start_ms: 153580\n end_ms: 154840\n- text: But they burn, you deserve to die\n start_ms: 154840\n end_ms: 156320\n- text: Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n start_ms: 156320\n end_ms: 159320\n- text: All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n start_ms: 159320\n end_ms: 161780\n- text: I'm a self-made millionaire\n start_ms: 161780\n end_ms: 163570\n- text: Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n start_ms: 163570\n end_ms: 165740\n- text: Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n start_ms: 165740\n end_ms: 170160\n- text: And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n start_ms: 170160\n end_ms: 172050\n- text: Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n start_ms: 172050\n end_ms: 174750\n- text: Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n start_ms: 174750\n end_ms: 177200\n- text: Now I'm back to set the record straight\n start_ms: 177200\n end_ms: 179470\n- text: With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n start_ms: 179470\n end_ms: 182120\n- text: I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n start_ms: 182120\n end_ms: 185480\n- text: No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n start_ms: 185480\n end_ms: 187630\n- text: 'Now go check the scenario: Lil'' Cease'\n start_ms: 187630\n end_ms: 189890\n- text: I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n start_ms: 189890\n end_ms: 192710\n- text: Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n start_ms: 192710\n end_ms: 195640\n- text: Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n start_ms: 195640\n end_ms: 197730\n- text: What the, is you stupid\n start_ms: 197730\n end_ms: 199120\n- text: I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n start_ms: 199120\n end_ms: 201560\n- text: With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n start_ms: 201560\n end_ms: 203460\n- text: With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n start_ms: 203460\n end_ms: 205560\n- text: Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n start_ms: 205560\n end_ms: 207510\n- text: And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n start_ms: 207510\n end_ms: 209970\n- text: All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n start_ms: 209970\n end_ms: 212730\n- text: You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n start_ms: 212730\n end_ms: 215200\n- text: I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n start_ms: 215200\n end_ms: 218030\n- text: Softer than Alize with a chaser\n start_ms: 218030\n end_ms: 220130\n- text: About to get murdered for the paper\n start_ms: 220130\n end_ms: 221780\n- text: E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n start_ms: 221780\n end_ms: 223890\n- text: Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n start_ms: 223890\n end_ms: 226010\n- text: Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n start_ms: 226010\n end_ms: 227920\n- text: Better be knowin'\n start_ms: 227920\n end_ms: 230430\n- text: We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n start_ms: 230430\n end_ms: 232330\n- text: No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n start_ms: 232330\n end_ms: 234410\n- text: I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n start_ms: 234410\n end_ms: 237100\n- text: I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n start_ms: 237100\n end_ms: 242660\n- text: We hit 'em up\n start_ms: 242660\n end_ms: 243870\n- text: Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n start_ms: 243870\n end_ms: 245850\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 245850\n end_ms: 248120\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 248120\n end_ms: 250480\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 250480\n end_ms: 252910\n- text: Hit 'em up, that's right!\n start_ms: 252910\n end_ms: 254530\n- text: (Take money, take money)\n start_ms: 254530\n end_ms: 255540\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 255540\nplain: |-\n We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n (I think they do)\n\n When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\n They don't wanna play my song\n But they wanna play fat boy over here\n What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (What's up)\n\n First off, f- and the clique you claim\n Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\n Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\n Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\n I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\n See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\n Check this out\n West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\n Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n Biggie Smalls just got shot\n Little Moo', pass the MAC\n And let me hit him in his back\n\n Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n Little accident murderer\n And I ain't never heard of ya\n Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\n Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\n With the ready power\n Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\n When you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, say what?\n\n Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n With your mouths open\n Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\n Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n N- think they learned to fly\n But they burn, you deserve to die\n Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\n All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n I'm a self-made millionaire\n Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\n And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n Now I'm back to set the record straight\n\n With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\n I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\n Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n What the, is you stupid\n I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\n With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\n You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n Softer than Alize with a chaser\n About to get murdered for the paper\n\n E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n Better be knowin'\n We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\n No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n We hit 'em up\n Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Hit 'em up, that's right!\n\n (Take money, take money)\n"},{"id":33590936,"name":"Hit 'Em Up","trackName":"Hit 'Em Up","artistName":"2Pac","albumName":"Hit 'Em Up","duration":313.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\nYeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\nHey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n(I think they do)\n\nWhen this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\nI want all the West Coast people to give up some love\nWhen this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\nThey tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\nThey don't wanna play my song\nBut they wanna play fat boy over here\nWhat? Come on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (What's up)\n\nFirst off, f- and the clique you claim\nWestside when we ride, come equipped with game\nYou claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\nWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\nPlus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\nBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\nWe keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\nSteady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\nLil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\nCut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\nLil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\nQuick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\nI'll let them n- know it's on for life\nDon't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\nBad Boy murdered on wax and killed\nF- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\nSee, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nN-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\nCheck this out\nWest Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\nGet out the way yo, get out the way yo\nBiggie Smalls just got shot\nLittle Moo', pass the MAC\nAnd let me hit him in his back\n\nFrank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\nLittle accident murderer\nAnd I ain't never heard of ya\nPoisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\nSpank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\nGuard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\nP- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\nAnd I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\nWith the ready power\nTucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\nI push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\nWhen you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, say what?\n\nPeep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\nThis ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\nWith your mouths open\nTryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\nSmokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\nN- think they learned to fly\nBut they burn, you deserve to die\nTalkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\nAll you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\nI'm a self-made millionaire\nThug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\nBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\nAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\nNow it's all about Versace, you copied my style\nFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\nNow I'm back to set the record straight\n\nWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\nI'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\nNo points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\nNow go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\nI'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\nLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\nGet your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\nWhat the, is you stupid\nI take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\nWith my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\nWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\nOutlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\nAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\nAll your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\nYou's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\nI'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\nSofter than Alize with a chaser\nAbout to get murdered for the paper\n\nE.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\nLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\nGun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\nBetter be knowin'\nWe approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\nNo need for hopin', it's a battle lost\nI got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\nI hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\nWe hit 'em up\nGrab your glocks when you see Tupac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nHit 'em up, that's right!\n\n(Take money, take money)","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.37] We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n[00:05.58] Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n[00:13.35] Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n[00:18.38] (I think they do)\n[00:19.67] When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n[00:22.08] I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n[00:23.83] When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n[00:25.23] They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n[00:28.48] They don't wanna play my song\n[00:30.36] But they wanna play fat boy over here\n[00:33.13] What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:35.68] Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:37.93] Come on, come on (What's up)\n[00:41.17] First off, f- and the clique you claim\n[00:43.30] Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n[00:46.17] You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n[00:48.64] We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n[00:51.37] Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n[00:53.96] Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n[00:57.01] We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n[00:58.90] Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n[01:01.83] Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n[01:04.63] Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n[01:06.77] Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n[01:08.93] Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n[01:11.94] I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n[01:14.04] Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n[01:17.03] Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n[01:18.89] F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n[01:22.10] See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[01:24.29] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[01:26.97] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:29.17] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:31.33] N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n[01:34.54] Check this out\n[01:37.54] West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n[01:42.43] Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n[01:44.08] Biggie Smalls just got shot\n[01:46.68] Little Moo', pass the MAC\n[01:48.11] And let me hit him in his back\n[01:49.85] Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n[01:52.01] Little accident murderer\n[01:53.98] And I ain't never heard of ya\n[01:55.16] Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n[01:57.07] Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n[01:59.67] Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n[02:01.53] P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n[02:05.60] And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n[02:07.53] With the ready power\n[02:09.01] Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n[02:10.23] I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n[02:12.53] When you see 2Pac\n[02:14.65] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[02:17.44] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[02:19.51] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[02:20.76] Nigga, say what?\n[02:22.79] Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n[02:25.57] This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n[02:27.79] With your mouths open\n[02:29.17] Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n[02:31.75] Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n[02:33.58] N- think they learned to fly\n[02:34.84] But they burn, you deserve to die\n[02:36.32] Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n[02:39.32] All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n[02:41.78] I'm a self-made millionaire\n[02:43.57] Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n[02:45.74] Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n[02:50.16] And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n[02:52.05] Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n[02:54.75] Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n[02:57.20] Now I'm back to set the record straight\n[02:59.47] With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n[03:02.12] I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n[03:05.48] No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n[03:07.63] Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n[03:09.89] I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n[03:12.71] Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n[03:15.64] Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n[03:17.73] What the, is you stupid\n[03:19.12] I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n[03:21.56] With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n[03:23.46] With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n[03:25.56] Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n[03:27.51] And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n[03:29.97] All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n[03:32.73] You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n[03:35.20] I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n[03:38.03] Softer than Alize with a chaser\n[03:40.13] About to get murdered for the paper\n[03:41.78] E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n[03:43.89] Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n[03:46.01] Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n[03:47.92] Better be knowin'\n[03:50.43] We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n[03:52.33] No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n[03:54.41] I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n[03:57.10] I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n[04:02.66] We hit 'em up\n[04:03.87] Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n[04:05.85] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[04:08.12] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[04:10.48] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[04:12.91] Hit 'em up, that's right!\n[04:14.53] (Take money, take money)\n[04:15.54] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Hit 'Em Up\n artist: 2Pac\n album: Hit 'Em Up\n duration_ms: 313000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n start_ms: 1370\n end_ms: 5580\n- text: Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n start_ms: 5580\n end_ms: 13350\n- text: Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n start_ms: 13350\n end_ms: 18380\n- text: (I think they do)\n start_ms: 18380\n end_ms: 19670\n- text: When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n start_ms: 19670\n end_ms: 22080\n- text: I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n start_ms: 22080\n end_ms: 23830\n- text: When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n start_ms: 23830\n end_ms: 25230\n- text: They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n start_ms: 25230\n end_ms: 28480\n- text: They don't wanna play my song\n start_ms: 28480\n end_ms: 30360\n- text: But they wanna play fat boy over here\n start_ms: 30360\n end_ms: 33130\n- text: What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 33130\n end_ms: 35680\n- text: Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 35680\n end_ms: 37930\n- text: Come on, come on (What's up)\n start_ms: 37930\n end_ms: 41170\n- text: First off, f- and the clique you claim\n start_ms: 41170\n end_ms: 43300\n- text: Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n start_ms: 43300\n end_ms: 46170\n- text: You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n start_ms: 46170\n end_ms: 48640\n- text: We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n start_ms: 48640\n end_ms: 51370\n- text: Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n start_ms: 51370\n end_ms: 53960\n- text: Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n start_ms: 53960\n end_ms: 57010\n- text: We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n start_ms: 57010\n end_ms: 58900\n- text: Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n start_ms: 58900\n end_ms: 61830\n- text: Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n start_ms: 61830\n end_ms: 64630\n- text: Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n start_ms: 64630\n end_ms: 66770\n- text: Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n start_ms: 66770\n end_ms: 68930\n- text: Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n start_ms: 68930\n end_ms: 71940\n- text: I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n start_ms: 71940\n end_ms: 74040\n- text: Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n start_ms: 74040\n end_ms: 77030\n- text: Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n start_ms: 77030\n end_ms: 78890\n- text: F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n start_ms: 78890\n end_ms: 82100\n- text: See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 82100\n end_ms: 84290\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 84290\n end_ms: 86970\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 86970\n end_ms: 89170\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 89170\n end_ms: 91330\n- text: N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n start_ms: 91330\n end_ms: 94540\n- text: Check this out\n start_ms: 94540\n end_ms: 97540\n- text: West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n start_ms: 97540\n end_ms: 102430\n- text: Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n start_ms: 102430\n end_ms: 104080\n- text: Biggie Smalls just got shot\n start_ms: 104080\n end_ms: 106680\n- text: Little Moo', pass the MAC\n start_ms: 106680\n end_ms: 108110\n- text: And let me hit him in his back\n start_ms: 108110\n end_ms: 109850\n- text: Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n start_ms: 109850\n end_ms: 112010\n- text: Little accident murderer\n start_ms: 112010\n end_ms: 113980\n- text: And I ain't never heard of ya\n start_ms: 113980\n end_ms: 115160\n- text: Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n start_ms: 115160\n end_ms: 117070\n- text: Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n start_ms: 117070\n end_ms: 119670\n- text: Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n start_ms: 119670\n end_ms: 121530\n- text: P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n start_ms: 121530\n end_ms: 125600\n- text: And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n start_ms: 125600\n end_ms: 127530\n- text: With the ready power\n start_ms: 127530\n end_ms: 129010\n- text: Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n start_ms: 129010\n end_ms: 130230\n- text: I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 130230\n end_ms: 132530\n- text: When you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 132530\n end_ms: 134650\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 134650\n end_ms: 137440\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 137440\n end_ms: 139510\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 139510\n end_ms: 140760\n- text: Nigga, say what?\n start_ms: 140760\n end_ms: 142790\n- text: Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n start_ms: 142790\n end_ms: 145570\n- text: This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n start_ms: 145570\n end_ms: 147790\n- text: With your mouths open\n start_ms: 147790\n end_ms: 149170\n- text: Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n start_ms: 149170\n end_ms: 151750\n- text: Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n start_ms: 151750\n end_ms: 153580\n- text: N- think they learned to fly\n start_ms: 153580\n end_ms: 154840\n- text: But they burn, you deserve to die\n start_ms: 154840\n end_ms: 156320\n- text: Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n start_ms: 156320\n end_ms: 159320\n- text: All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n start_ms: 159320\n end_ms: 161780\n- text: I'm a self-made millionaire\n start_ms: 161780\n end_ms: 163570\n- text: Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n start_ms: 163570\n end_ms: 165740\n- text: Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n start_ms: 165740\n end_ms: 170160\n- text: And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n start_ms: 170160\n end_ms: 172050\n- text: Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n start_ms: 172050\n end_ms: 174750\n- text: Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n start_ms: 174750\n end_ms: 177200\n- text: Now I'm back to set the record straight\n start_ms: 177200\n end_ms: 179470\n- text: With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n start_ms: 179470\n end_ms: 182120\n- text: I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n start_ms: 182120\n end_ms: 185480\n- text: No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n start_ms: 185480\n end_ms: 187630\n- text: 'Now go check the scenario: Lil'' Cease'\n start_ms: 187630\n end_ms: 189890\n- text: I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n start_ms: 189890\n end_ms: 192710\n- text: Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n start_ms: 192710\n end_ms: 195640\n- text: Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n start_ms: 195640\n end_ms: 197730\n- text: What the, is you stupid\n start_ms: 197730\n end_ms: 199120\n- text: I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n start_ms: 199120\n end_ms: 201560\n- text: With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n start_ms: 201560\n end_ms: 203460\n- text: With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n start_ms: 203460\n end_ms: 205560\n- text: Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n start_ms: 205560\n end_ms: 207510\n- text: And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n start_ms: 207510\n end_ms: 209970\n- text: All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n start_ms: 209970\n end_ms: 212730\n- text: You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n start_ms: 212730\n end_ms: 215200\n- text: I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n start_ms: 215200\n end_ms: 218030\n- text: Softer than Alize with a chaser\n start_ms: 218030\n end_ms: 220130\n- text: About to get murdered for the paper\n start_ms: 220130\n end_ms: 221780\n- text: E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n start_ms: 221780\n end_ms: 223890\n- text: Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n start_ms: 223890\n end_ms: 226010\n- text: Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n start_ms: 226010\n end_ms: 227920\n- text: Better be knowin'\n start_ms: 227920\n end_ms: 230430\n- text: We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n start_ms: 230430\n end_ms: 232330\n- text: No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n start_ms: 232330\n end_ms: 234410\n- text: I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n start_ms: 234410\n end_ms: 237100\n- text: I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n start_ms: 237100\n end_ms: 242660\n- text: We hit 'em up\n start_ms: 242660\n end_ms: 243870\n- text: Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n start_ms: 243870\n end_ms: 245850\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 245850\n end_ms: 248120\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 248120\n end_ms: 250480\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 250480\n end_ms: 252910\n- text: Hit 'em up, that's right!\n start_ms: 252910\n end_ms: 254530\n- text: (Take money, take money)\n start_ms: 254530\n end_ms: 255540\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 255540\nplain: |-\n We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n (I think they do)\n\n When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\n They don't wanna play my song\n But they wanna play fat boy over here\n What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (What's up)\n\n First off, f- and the clique you claim\n Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\n Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\n Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\n I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\n See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\n Check this out\n West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\n Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n Biggie Smalls just got shot\n Little Moo', pass the MAC\n And let me hit him in his back\n\n Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n Little accident murderer\n And I ain't never heard of ya\n Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\n Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\n With the ready power\n Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\n When you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, say what?\n\n Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n With your mouths open\n Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\n Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n N- think they learned to fly\n But they burn, you deserve to die\n Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\n All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n I'm a self-made millionaire\n Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\n And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n Now I'm back to set the record straight\n\n With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\n I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\n Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n What the, is you stupid\n I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\n With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\n You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n Softer than Alize with a chaser\n About to get murdered for the paper\n\n E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n Better be knowin'\n We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\n No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n We hit 'em up\n Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Hit 'em up, that's right!\n\n (Take money, take money)\n"},{"id":23292495,"name":"Hit 'Em Up","trackName":"Hit 'Em Up","artistName":"2Pac, Outlawz","albumName":"Hit 'Em Up","duration":313.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Sucka-ass, I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends\nThat's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker\n(Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas\n(Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is\n(Take money) niggas, we bring it too\nThat's 'ight, ha-ha\n(Take money) ha-ha\nFirst off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claim\nWestside when we ride, come equipped with game\nYou claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife\nWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life\nPlus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\nBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\nWe keep on coming while we running for your jewels\nSteady gunning, keep on busting at them fools, you know the rules\nLil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\nCut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\nLil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's\nQuick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace\nI'll let them niggas know it's on for life\nDon't let the Westside ride tonight, ha-ha\nBad Boy murdered on wax and killed\nFuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\nSee, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace (uh)\nNigga, I hit 'em up\nCheck this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is\nI don't even know why I'm on this track\nY'all niggas ain't even on my level\nI'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it!\nGet out the way, yo, get out the way, yo\nBiggie Smalls just got dropped\nLittle Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back\nFrank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps\nLittle accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya\nPoisonous gats attack when I'm serving ya\nSpank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\nGuard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint\nPuffy weaker than the fucking block I'm running through, nigga\nAnd I'm smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga\nWith the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\nYour clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\nGrab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, we hit 'em up\nPeep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\nThis ain't no freestyle battle\nAll you niggas getting killed with your mouths open\nTryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping\nSmoking dope, it's like a sherm high\nNiggas think they learned to fly\nBut they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die\nTalking about you getting money, but it's funny to me\nAll you niggas living bummy while you fucking with me\nI'm a self-made millionaire\nThug living, out of prison, pistols in the air, ha-ha\nBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\nAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\nNow it's all about Versace, you copied my style\nFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\nNow I'm back to set the record straight\nWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\nMotherfucker, I hit 'em up!\nI'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\nNo points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs\nNow go check the scenario, Lil Cease\nI'll bring you fake G's to your knees, copping pleas in de Janeiro\nLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\nGet your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up\nWhat the fuck? Is you stupid?\nI take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\nWith my clique looting, shooting and polluting your block\nWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\nOutlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch\nAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\nAll your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\nYou's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\nI'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit, but a faker\nSofter than Alizé with a chaser\nAbout to get murdered for the paper\nE.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\nLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\nGun toting smoke, we ain't no motherfucking joke\nThug Life, niggas better be knowing\nWe approaching in the wide open, gun smoking\nNo need for hoping, it's a battle lost\nI got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off\nNigga, I hit 'em up\nNow you tell me who won\nI see them, they run, hahahaha\nThey don't wanna see us\nWhole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up tryna be us\nHow the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job?\nWe millionaires\nKilling ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it\nOh-yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us?\nYou little young-ass motherfuckers\nDon't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something?\nYou're fucking with me, nigga\nYou fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack\nYou better back the fuck up, 'fore you get smacked the fuck up\nThis is how we do it on our side\nAny of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it\nBut we ain't singing, we bringing drama\nFuck you and yo' motherfucking mama!\nWe gon' kill all you motherfuckers!\nNow when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie\nThen everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfucking opinion\nWell, this is how we gonna do this, fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!\nFuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfucking crew\nAnd if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too\nChino XL, fuck you too\nAll you motherfuckers, fuck you too\n(Take money, take money)\nAll of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow motherfucker\nMy .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!\nYou motherfuckers can't be us or see us\nWe motherfucking Thug Life ridas, Westside 'til we die!\nOut here in California, nigga, we warned ya\nWe'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!\nYou think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfucking mob!\nAin't nothing but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us\nOur shit goes triple and four-quadruple\nYou niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns in they motherfuckers belts\nYou know how it is, when we drop records, they felt\nYou niggas can't feel it, we the realest\nFuck 'em! We Bad Boy killas\n\n","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.02] Sucka-ass, I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends\n[00:01.73] That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker\n[00:03.93] (Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas\n[00:07.08] (Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is\n[00:08.95] (Take money) niggas, we bring it too\n[00:10.39] That's 'ight, ha-ha\n[00:11.74] (Take money) ha-ha\n[00:12.59] First off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claim\n[00:15.47] Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n[00:17.88] You claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife\n[00:20.58] We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life\n[00:23.00] Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n[00:25.33] Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n[00:28.47] We keep on coming while we running for your jewels\n[00:30.56] Steady gunning, keep on busting at them fools, you know the rules\n[00:33.36] Lil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n[00:35.41] Cut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n[00:38.54] Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's\n[00:40.52] Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace\n[00:43.47] I'll let them niggas know it's on for life\n[00:45.41] Don't let the Westside ride tonight, ha-ha\n[00:48.25] Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n[00:50.68] Fuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n[00:53.03] See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[00:56.19] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[00:58.85] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:00.76] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace (uh)\n[01:02.71] Nigga, I hit 'em up\n[01:03.98] Check this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is\n[01:06.07] I don't even know why I'm on this track\n[01:07.69] Y'all niggas ain't even on my level\n[01:09.01] I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it!\n[01:13.00] Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo\n[01:16.02] Biggie Smalls just got dropped\n[01:17.79] Little Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back\n[01:20.87] Frank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps\n[01:23.22] Little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya\n[01:26.13] Poisonous gats attack when I'm serving ya\n[01:28.45] Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n[01:31.10] Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint\n[01:33.51] Puffy weaker than the fucking block I'm running through, nigga\n[01:36.04] And I'm smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga\n[01:38.50] With the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n[01:41.24] Your clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n[01:44.02] Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[01:46.77] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[01:49.11] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:51.13] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:53.12] Nigga, we hit 'em up\n[01:53.93] Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n[01:56.71] This ain't no freestyle battle\n[01:57.74] All you niggas getting killed with your mouths open\n[02:00.58] Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping\n[02:03.10] Smoking dope, it's like a sherm high\n[02:04.68] Niggas think they learned to fly\n[02:06.18] But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die\n[02:08.75] Talking about you getting money, but it's funny to me\n[02:11.24] All you niggas living bummy while you fucking with me\n[02:13.59] I'm a self-made millionaire\n[02:15.45] Thug living, out of prison, pistols in the air, ha-ha\n[02:18.62] Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n[02:21.29] And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n[02:23.95] Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n[02:26.32] Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n[02:28.82] Now I'm back to set the record straight\n[02:30.74] With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n[02:33.08] Motherfucker, I hit 'em up!\n[02:34.04] I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n[02:36.88] No points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs\n[02:39.15] Now go check the scenario, Lil Cease\n[02:41.04] I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, copping pleas in de Janeiro\n[02:44.19] Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n[02:46.39] Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up\n[02:48.45] What the fuck? Is you stupid?\n[02:49.84] I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n[02:52.11] With my clique looting, shooting and polluting your block\n[02:54.63] With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n[02:56.76] Outlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch\n[02:59.35] And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n[03:01.65] All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n[03:04.20] You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n[03:07.06] I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit, but a faker\n[03:09.50] Softer than Alizé with a chaser\n[03:11.29] About to get murdered for the paper\n[03:13.06] E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n[03:15.38] Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n[03:17.57] Gun toting smoke, we ain't no motherfucking joke\n[03:19.92] Thug Life, niggas better be knowing\n[03:21.82] We approaching in the wide open, gun smoking\n[03:24.27] No need for hoping, it's a battle lost\n[03:26.26] I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off\n[03:28.94] Nigga, I hit 'em up\n[03:30.96] Now you tell me who won\n[03:32.41] I see them, they run, hahahaha\n[03:34.76] They don't wanna see us\n[03:36.28] Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up tryna be us\n[03:39.26] How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job?\n[03:41.35] We millionaires\n[03:42.53] Killing ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it\n[03:44.54] Oh-yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us?\n[03:47.20] You little young-ass motherfuckers\n[03:48.98] Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something?\n[03:51.14] You're fucking with me, nigga\n[03:51.99] You fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack\n[03:53.83] You better back the fuck up, 'fore you get smacked the fuck up\n[03:56.48] This is how we do it on our side\n[03:58.11] Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it\n[04:00.26] But we ain't singing, we bringing drama\n[04:02.35] Fuck you and yo' motherfucking mama!\n[04:04.36] We gon' kill all you motherfuckers!\n[04:06.12] Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie\n[04:08.45] Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfucking opinion\n[04:11.23] Well, this is how we gonna do this, fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!\n[04:15.02] Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfucking crew\n[04:18.74] And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too\n[04:21.80] Chino XL, fuck you too\n[04:24.10] All you motherfuckers, fuck you too\n[04:26.31] (Take money, take money)\n[04:29.12] All of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow motherfucker\n[04:32.03] My .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!\n[04:34.89] You motherfuckers can't be us or see us\n[04:37.19] We motherfucking Thug Life ridas, Westside 'til we die!\n[04:40.57] Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya\n[04:42.65] We'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!\n[04:45.50] You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfucking mob!\n[04:47.83] Ain't nothing but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us\n[04:51.24] Our shit goes triple and four-quadruple\n[04:55.76] You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns in they motherfuckers belts\n[04:59.59] You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt\n[05:01.78] You niggas can't feel it, we the realest\n[05:03.70] Fuck 'em! We Bad Boy killas\n[05:04.99] \n","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Hit 'Em Up\n artist: 2Pac, Outlawz\n album: Hit 'Em Up\n duration_ms: 313000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Sucka-ass, I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends\n start_ms: 20\n end_ms: 1730\n- text: That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker\n start_ms: 1730\n end_ms: 3930\n- text: (Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas\n start_ms: 3930\n end_ms: 7080\n- text: (Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is\n start_ms: 7080\n end_ms: 8950\n- text: (Take money) niggas, we bring it too\n start_ms: 8950\n end_ms: 10390\n- text: That's 'ight, ha-ha\n start_ms: 10390\n end_ms: 11740\n- text: (Take money) ha-ha\n start_ms: 11740\n end_ms: 12590\n- text: First off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claim\n start_ms: 12590\n end_ms: 15470\n- text: Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n start_ms: 15470\n end_ms: 17880\n- text: You claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife\n start_ms: 17880\n end_ms: 20580\n- text: We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life\n start_ms: 20580\n end_ms: 23000\n- text: Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n start_ms: 23000\n end_ms: 25330\n- text: Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n start_ms: 25330\n end_ms: 28470\n- text: We keep on coming while we running for your jewels\n start_ms: 28470\n end_ms: 30560\n- text: Steady gunning, keep on busting at them fools, you know the rules\n start_ms: 30560\n end_ms: 33360\n- text: Lil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n start_ms: 33360\n end_ms: 35410\n- text: Cut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n start_ms: 35410\n end_ms: 38540\n- text: Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's\n start_ms: 38540\n end_ms: 40520\n- text: Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace\n start_ms: 40520\n end_ms: 43470\n- text: I'll let them niggas know it's on for life\n start_ms: 43470\n end_ms: 45410\n- text: Don't let the Westside ride tonight, ha-ha\n start_ms: 45410\n end_ms: 48250\n- text: Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n start_ms: 48250\n end_ms: 50680\n- text: Fuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n start_ms: 50680\n end_ms: 53030\n- text: See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 53030\n end_ms: 56190\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 56190\n end_ms: 58850\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 58850\n end_ms: 60760\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace (uh)\n start_ms: 60760\n end_ms: 62710\n- text: Nigga, I hit 'em up\n start_ms: 62710\n end_ms: 63980\n- text: Check this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is\n start_ms: 63980\n end_ms: 66070\n- text: I don't even know why I'm on this track\n start_ms: 66070\n end_ms: 67690\n- text: Y'all niggas ain't even on my level\n start_ms: 67690\n end_ms: 69010\n- text: I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it!\n start_ms: 69010\n end_ms: 73000\n- text: Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo\n start_ms: 73000\n end_ms: 76020\n- text: Biggie Smalls just got dropped\n start_ms: 76020\n end_ms: 77790\n- text: Little Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back\n start_ms: 77790\n end_ms: 80870\n- text: Frank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps\n start_ms: 80870\n end_ms: 83220\n- text: Little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya\n start_ms: 83220\n end_ms: 86130\n- text: Poisonous gats attack when I'm serving ya\n start_ms: 86130\n end_ms: 88450\n- text: Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n start_ms: 88450\n end_ms: 91100\n- text: Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint\n start_ms: 91100\n end_ms: 93510\n- text: Puffy weaker than the fucking block I'm running through, nigga\n start_ms: 93510\n end_ms: 96040\n- text: And I'm smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga\n start_ms: 96040\n end_ms: 98500\n- text: With the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n start_ms: 98500\n end_ms: 101240\n- text: Your clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 101240\n end_ms: 104020\n- text: Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 104020\n end_ms: 106770\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 106770\n end_ms: 109110\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 109110\n end_ms: 111130\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 111130\n end_ms: 113120\n- text: Nigga, we hit 'em up\n start_ms: 113120\n end_ms: 113930\n- text: Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n start_ms: 113930\n end_ms: 116710\n- text: This ain't no freestyle battle\n start_ms: 116710\n end_ms: 117740\n- text: All you niggas getting killed with your mouths open\n start_ms: 117740\n end_ms: 120580\n- text: Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping\n start_ms: 120580\n end_ms: 123100\n- text: Smoking dope, it's like a sherm high\n start_ms: 123100\n end_ms: 124680\n- text: Niggas think they learned to fly\n start_ms: 124680\n end_ms: 126180\n- text: But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die\n start_ms: 126180\n end_ms: 128750\n- text: Talking about you getting money, but it's funny to me\n start_ms: 128750\n end_ms: 131240\n- text: All you niggas living bummy while you fucking with me\n start_ms: 131240\n end_ms: 133590\n- text: I'm a self-made millionaire\n start_ms: 133590\n end_ms: 135450\n- text: Thug living, out of prison, pistols in the air, ha-ha\n start_ms: 135450\n end_ms: 138620\n- text: Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n start_ms: 138620\n end_ms: 141290\n- text: And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n start_ms: 141290\n end_ms: 143950\n- text: Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n start_ms: 143950\n end_ms: 146320\n- text: Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n start_ms: 146320\n end_ms: 148820\n- text: Now I'm back to set the record straight\n start_ms: 148820\n end_ms: 150740\n- text: With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n start_ms: 150740\n end_ms: 153080\n- text: Motherfucker, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 153080\n end_ms: 154040\n- text: I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n start_ms: 154040\n end_ms: 156880\n- text: No points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs\n start_ms: 156880\n end_ms: 159150\n- text: Now go check the scenario, Lil Cease\n start_ms: 159150\n end_ms: 161040\n- text: I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, copping pleas in de Janeiro\n start_ms: 161040\n end_ms: 164190\n- text: Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n start_ms: 164190\n end_ms: 166390\n- text: Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up\n start_ms: 166390\n end_ms: 168450\n- text: What the fuck? Is you stupid?\n start_ms: 168450\n end_ms: 169840\n- text: I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n start_ms: 169840\n end_ms: 172110\n- text: With my clique looting, shooting and polluting your block\n start_ms: 172110\n end_ms: 174630\n- text: With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n start_ms: 174630\n end_ms: 176760\n- text: Outlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch\n start_ms: 176760\n end_ms: 179350\n- text: And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n start_ms: 179350\n end_ms: 181650\n- text: All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n start_ms: 181650\n end_ms: 184200\n- text: You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n start_ms: 184200\n end_ms: 187060\n- text: I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit, but a faker\n start_ms: 187060\n end_ms: 189500\n- text: Softer than Alizé with a chaser\n start_ms: 189500\n end_ms: 191290\n- text: About to get murdered for the paper\n start_ms: 191290\n end_ms: 193060\n- text: E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n start_ms: 193060\n end_ms: 195380\n- text: Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n start_ms: 195380\n end_ms: 197570\n- text: Gun toting smoke, we ain't no motherfucking joke\n start_ms: 197570\n end_ms: 199920\n- text: Thug Life, niggas better be knowing\n start_ms: 199920\n end_ms: 201820\n- text: We approaching in the wide open, gun smoking\n start_ms: 201820\n end_ms: 204270\n- text: No need for hoping, it's a battle lost\n start_ms: 204270\n end_ms: 206260\n- text: I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off\n start_ms: 206260\n end_ms: 208940\n- text: Nigga, I hit 'em up\n start_ms: 208940\n end_ms: 210960\n- text: Now you tell me who won\n start_ms: 210960\n end_ms: 212410\n- text: I see them, they run, hahahaha\n start_ms: 212410\n end_ms: 214760\n- text: They don't wanna see us\n start_ms: 214760\n end_ms: 216280\n- text: Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up tryna be us\n start_ms: 216280\n end_ms: 219260\n- text: How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job?\n start_ms: 219260\n end_ms: 221350\n- text: We millionaires\n start_ms: 221350\n end_ms: 222530\n- text: Killing ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it\n start_ms: 222530\n end_ms: 224540\n- text: Oh-yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us?\n start_ms: 224540\n end_ms: 227200\n- text: You little young-ass motherfuckers\n start_ms: 227200\n end_ms: 228980\n- text: Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something?\n start_ms: 228980\n end_ms: 231140\n- text: You're fucking with me, nigga\n start_ms: 231140\n end_ms: 231990\n- text: You fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack\n start_ms: 231990\n end_ms: 233830\n- text: You better back the fuck up, 'fore you get smacked the fuck up\n start_ms: 233830\n end_ms: 236480\n- text: This is how we do it on our side\n start_ms: 236480\n end_ms: 238110\n- text: Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it\n start_ms: 238110\n end_ms: 240260\n- text: But we ain't singing, we bringing drama\n start_ms: 240260\n end_ms: 242350\n- text: Fuck you and yo' motherfucking mama!\n start_ms: 242350\n end_ms: 244360\n- text: We gon' kill all you motherfuckers!\n start_ms: 244360\n end_ms: 246120\n- text: Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie\n start_ms: 246120\n end_ms: 248450\n- text: Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfucking opinion\n start_ms: 248450\n end_ms: 251230\n- text: Well, this is how we gonna do this, fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!\n start_ms: 251230\n end_ms: 255020\n- text: Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfucking crew\n start_ms: 255020\n end_ms: 258740\n- text: And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too\n start_ms: 258740\n end_ms: 261800\n- text: Chino XL, fuck you too\n start_ms: 261800\n end_ms: 264100\n- text: All you motherfuckers, fuck you too\n start_ms: 264100\n end_ms: 266310\n- text: (Take money, take money)\n start_ms: 266310\n end_ms: 269120\n- text: All of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow motherfucker\n start_ms: 269120\n end_ms: 272030\n- text: My .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!\n start_ms: 272030\n end_ms: 274890\n- text: You motherfuckers can't be us or see us\n start_ms: 274890\n end_ms: 277190\n- text: We motherfucking Thug Life ridas, Westside 'til we die!\n start_ms: 277190\n end_ms: 280570\n- text: Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya\n start_ms: 280570\n end_ms: 282650\n- text: We'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!\n start_ms: 282650\n end_ms: 285500\n- text: You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfucking mob!\n start_ms: 285500\n end_ms: 287830\n- text: Ain't nothing but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us\n start_ms: 287830\n end_ms: 291240\n- text: Our shit goes triple and four-quadruple\n start_ms: 291240\n end_ms: 295760\n- text: You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns in they motherfuckers belts\n start_ms: 295760\n end_ms: 299590\n- text: You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt\n start_ms: 299590\n end_ms: 301780\n- text: You niggas can't feel it, we the realest\n start_ms: 301780\n end_ms: 303700\n- text: Fuck 'em! We Bad Boy killas\n start_ms: 303700\n end_ms: 304990\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 304990\nplain: |+\n Sucka-ass, I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends\n That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker\n (Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas\n (Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is\n (Take money) niggas, we bring it too\n That's 'ight, ha-ha\n (Take money) ha-ha\n First off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claim\n Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n You claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife\n We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life\n Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n We keep on coming while we running for your jewels\n Steady gunning, keep on busting at them fools, you know the rules\n Lil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n Cut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's\n Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace\n I'll let them niggas know it's on for life\n Don't let the Westside ride tonight, ha-ha\n Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n Fuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace (uh)\n Nigga, I hit 'em up\n Check this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is\n I don't even know why I'm on this track\n Y'all niggas ain't even on my level\n I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it!\n Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo\n Biggie Smalls just got dropped\n Little Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back\n Frank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps\n Little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya\n Poisonous gats attack when I'm serving ya\n Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint\n Puffy weaker than the fucking block I'm running through, nigga\n And I'm smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga\n With the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n Your clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, we hit 'em up\n Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n This ain't no freestyle battle\n All you niggas getting killed with your mouths open\n Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping\n Smoking dope, it's like a sherm high\n Niggas think they learned to fly\n But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die\n Talking about you getting money, but it's funny to me\n All you niggas living bummy while you fucking with me\n I'm a self-made millionaire\n Thug living, out of prison, pistols in the air, ha-ha\n Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n Now I'm back to set the record straight\n With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n Motherfucker, I hit 'em up!\n I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n No points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs\n Now go check the scenario, Lil Cease\n I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, copping pleas in de Janeiro\n Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up\n What the fuck? Is you stupid?\n I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n With my clique looting, shooting and polluting your block\n With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n Outlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch\n And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit, but a faker\n Softer than Alizé with a chaser\n About to get murdered for the paper\n E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n Gun toting smoke, we ain't no motherfucking joke\n Thug Life, niggas better be knowing\n We approaching in the wide open, gun smoking\n No need for hoping, it's a battle lost\n I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off\n Nigga, I hit 'em up\n Now you tell me who won\n I see them, they run, hahahaha\n They don't wanna see us\n Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up tryna be us\n How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job?\n We millionaires\n Killing ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it\n Oh-yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us?\n You little young-ass motherfuckers\n Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something?\n You're fucking with me, nigga\n You fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack\n You better back the fuck up, 'fore you get smacked the fuck up\n This is how we do it on our side\n Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it\n But we ain't singing, we bringing drama\n Fuck you and yo' motherfucking mama!\n We gon' kill all you motherfuckers!\n Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie\n Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfucking opinion\n Well, this is how we gonna do this, fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!\n Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfucking crew\n And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too\n Chino XL, fuck you too\n All you motherfuckers, fuck you too\n (Take money, take money)\n All of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow motherfucker\n My .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!\n You motherfuckers can't be us or see us\n We motherfucking Thug Life ridas, Westside 'til we die!\n Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya\n We'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!\n You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfucking mob!\n Ain't nothing but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us\n Our shit goes triple and four-quadruple\n You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns in they motherfuckers belts\n You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt\n You niggas can't feel it, we the realest\n Fuck 'em! We Bad Boy killas\n\n"},{"id":16547796,"name":"Hit Em Up","trackName":"Hit Em Up","artistName":"2Pac","albumName":"Makaveli 03 (Hit Em Up)","duration":323.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\nYeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\nHey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n(I think they do)\n\nWhen this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\nI want all the West Coast people to give up some love\nWhen this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\nThey tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\nThey don't wanna play my song\nBut they wanna play fat boy over here\nWhat? Come on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (What's up)\n\nFirst off, f- and the clique you claim\nWestside when we ride, come equipped with game\nYou claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\nWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\nPlus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\nBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\nWe keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\nSteady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\nLil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\nCut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\nLil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\nQuick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\nI'll let them n- know it's on for life\nDon't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\nBad Boy murdered on wax and killed\nF- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\nSee, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nN-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\nCheck this out\nWest Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\nGet out the way yo, get out the way yo\nBiggie Smalls just got shot\nLittle Moo', pass the MAC\nAnd let me hit him in his back\n\nFrank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\nLittle accident murderer\nAnd I ain't never heard of ya\nPoisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\nSpank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\nGuard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\nP- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\nAnd I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\nWith the ready power\nTucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\nI push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\nWhen you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, say what?\n\nPeep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\nThis ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\nWith your mouths open\nTryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\nSmokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\nN- think they learned to fly\nBut they burn, you deserve to die\nTalkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\nAll you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\nI'm a self-made millionaire\nThug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\nBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\nAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\nNow it's all about Versace, you copied my style\nFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\nNow I'm back to set the record straight\n\nWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\nI'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\nNo points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\nNow go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\nI'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\nLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\nGet your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\nWhat the, is you stupid\nI take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\nWith my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\nWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\nOutlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\nAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\nAll your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\nYou's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\nI'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\nSofter than Alize with a chaser\nAbout to get murdered for the paper\n\nE.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\nLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\nGun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\nBetter be knowin'\nWe approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\nNo need for hopin', it's a battle lost\nI got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\nI hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\nWe hit 'em up\nGrab your glocks when you see Tupac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nHit 'em up, that's right!\n\n(Take money, take money)","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.43] We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n[00:03.77] Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n[00:04.95] Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n[00:05.92] (I think they do)\n[00:06.92] When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n[00:07.78] I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n[00:08.59] When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n[00:09.10] They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n[00:09.93] They don't wanna play my song\n[00:10.36] But they wanna play fat boy over here\n[00:10.66] What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:11.19] Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:11.62] Come on, come on (What's up)\n[00:12.88] First off, f- and the clique you claim\n[00:15.18] Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n[00:17.86] You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n[00:20.13] We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n[00:22.53] Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n[00:25.14] Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n[00:28.17] We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n[00:30.55] Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n[00:33.49] Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n[00:35.58] Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n[00:38.13] Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n[00:40.56] Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n[00:43.50] I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n[00:45.67] Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n[00:48.38] Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n[00:50.51] F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n[00:53.07] See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[00:55.70] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[00:58.45] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:00.74] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:02.75] N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n[01:04.27] Check this out\n[01:05.27] West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n[01:07.87] \n[01:13.24] Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n[01:16.28] Biggie Smalls just got shot\n[01:17.87] Little Moo', pass the MAC\n[01:19.39] And let me hit him in his back\n[01:20.84] Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n[01:23.73] Little accident murderer\n[01:24.88] And I ain't never heard of ya\n[01:26.26] Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n[01:28.72] Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n[01:30.87] Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n[01:33.62] P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n[01:36.16] And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n[01:38.50] With the ready power\n[01:39.67] Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n[01:41.63] I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n[01:44.46] When you see 2Pac\n[01:47.16] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[01:49.51] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:51.69] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:53.63] Nigga, say what?\n[01:55.02] Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n[01:56.67] This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n[01:59.22] With your mouths open\n[02:00.43] Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n[02:03.04] Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n[02:05.03] N- think they learned to fly\n[02:06.19] But they burn, you deserve to die\n[02:08.89] Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n[02:11.19] All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n[02:13.66] I'm a self-made millionaire\n[02:15.86] Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n[02:18.43] Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n[02:20.74] And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n[02:23.44] Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n[02:27.02] Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n[02:29.07] Now I'm back to set the record straight\n[02:31.48] With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n[02:34.70] I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n[02:37.15] No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n[02:39.70] Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n[02:41.97] I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n[02:44.76] Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n[02:46.77] Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n[02:49.57] What the, is you stupid\n[02:50.53] I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n[02:52.90] With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n[02:55.53] With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n[02:57.40] Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n[02:59.82] And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n[03:02.43] All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n[03:04.74] You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n[03:06.74] I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n[03:09.51] Softer than Alize with a chaser\n[03:11.66] About to get murdered for the paper\n[03:13.28] E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n[03:15.26] Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n[03:17.79] Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n[03:21.37] Better be knowin'\n[03:22.15] We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n[03:24.48] No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n[03:26.14] I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n[03:28.72] I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n[03:31.28] \n[03:34.02] We hit 'em up\n[03:36.78] Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n[03:38.87] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[03:41.04] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[03:42.96] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[03:44.65] Hit 'em up, that's right!\n[03:46.04] (Take money, take money)\n[03:46.57] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Hit Em Up\n artist: 2Pac\n album: Makaveli 03 (Hit Em Up)\n duration_ms: 323000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n start_ms: 2430\n end_ms: 3770\n- text: Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n start_ms: 3770\n end_ms: 4950\n- text: Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n start_ms: 4950\n end_ms: 5920\n- text: (I think they do)\n start_ms: 5920\n end_ms: 6920\n- text: When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n start_ms: 6920\n end_ms: 7780\n- text: I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n start_ms: 7780\n end_ms: 8590\n- text: When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n start_ms: 8590\n end_ms: 9100\n- text: They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n start_ms: 9100\n end_ms: 9930\n- text: They don't wanna play my song\n start_ms: 9930\n end_ms: 10360\n- text: But they wanna play fat boy over here\n start_ms: 10360\n end_ms: 10660\n- text: What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 10660\n end_ms: 11190\n- text: Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 11190\n end_ms: 11620\n- text: Come on, come on (What's up)\n start_ms: 11620\n end_ms: 12880\n- text: First off, f- and the clique you claim\n start_ms: 12880\n end_ms: 15180\n- text: Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n start_ms: 15180\n end_ms: 17860\n- text: You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n start_ms: 17860\n end_ms: 20130\n- text: We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n start_ms: 20130\n end_ms: 22530\n- text: Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n start_ms: 22530\n end_ms: 25140\n- text: Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n start_ms: 25140\n end_ms: 28170\n- text: We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n start_ms: 28170\n end_ms: 30550\n- text: Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n start_ms: 30550\n end_ms: 33490\n- text: Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n start_ms: 33490\n end_ms: 35580\n- text: Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n start_ms: 35580\n end_ms: 38130\n- text: Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n start_ms: 38130\n end_ms: 40560\n- text: Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n start_ms: 40560\n end_ms: 43500\n- text: I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n start_ms: 43500\n end_ms: 45670\n- text: Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n start_ms: 45670\n end_ms: 48380\n- text: Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n start_ms: 48380\n end_ms: 50510\n- text: F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n start_ms: 50510\n end_ms: 53070\n- text: See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 53070\n end_ms: 55700\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 55700\n end_ms: 58450\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 58450\n end_ms: 60740\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 60740\n end_ms: 62750\n- text: N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n start_ms: 62750\n end_ms: 64270\n- text: Check this out\n start_ms: 64270\n end_ms: 65270\n- text: West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n start_ms: 65270\n end_ms: 67870\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 67870\n end_ms: 73240\n- text: Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n start_ms: 73240\n end_ms: 76280\n- text: Biggie Smalls just got shot\n start_ms: 76280\n end_ms: 77870\n- text: Little Moo', pass the MAC\n start_ms: 77870\n end_ms: 79390\n- text: And let me hit him in his back\n start_ms: 79390\n end_ms: 80840\n- text: Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n start_ms: 80840\n end_ms: 83730\n- text: Little accident murderer\n start_ms: 83730\n end_ms: 84880\n- text: And I ain't never heard of ya\n start_ms: 84880\n end_ms: 86260\n- text: Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n start_ms: 86260\n end_ms: 88720\n- text: Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n start_ms: 88720\n end_ms: 90870\n- text: Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n start_ms: 90870\n end_ms: 93620\n- text: P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n start_ms: 93620\n end_ms: 96160\n- text: And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n start_ms: 96160\n end_ms: 98500\n- text: With the ready power\n start_ms: 98500\n end_ms: 99670\n- text: Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n start_ms: 99670\n end_ms: 101630\n- text: I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 101630\n end_ms: 104460\n- text: When you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 104460\n end_ms: 107160\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 107160\n end_ms: 109510\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 109510\n end_ms: 111690\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 111690\n end_ms: 113630\n- text: Nigga, say what?\n start_ms: 113630\n end_ms: 115020\n- text: Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n start_ms: 115020\n end_ms: 116670\n- text: This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n start_ms: 116670\n end_ms: 119220\n- text: With your mouths open\n start_ms: 119220\n end_ms: 120430\n- text: Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n start_ms: 120430\n end_ms: 123040\n- text: Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n start_ms: 123040\n end_ms: 125030\n- text: N- think they learned to fly\n start_ms: 125030\n end_ms: 126190\n- text: But they burn, you deserve to die\n start_ms: 126190\n end_ms: 128890\n- text: Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n start_ms: 128890\n end_ms: 131190\n- text: All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n start_ms: 131190\n end_ms: 133660\n- text: I'm a self-made millionaire\n start_ms: 133660\n end_ms: 135860\n- text: Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n start_ms: 135860\n end_ms: 138430\n- text: Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n start_ms: 138430\n end_ms: 140740\n- text: And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n start_ms: 140740\n end_ms: 143440\n- text: Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n start_ms: 143440\n end_ms: 147020\n- text: Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n start_ms: 147020\n end_ms: 149070\n- text: Now I'm back to set the record straight\n start_ms: 149070\n end_ms: 151480\n- text: With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n start_ms: 151480\n end_ms: 154700\n- text: I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n start_ms: 154700\n end_ms: 157150\n- text: No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n start_ms: 157150\n end_ms: 159700\n- text: 'Now go check the scenario: Lil'' Cease'\n start_ms: 159700\n end_ms: 161970\n- text: I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n start_ms: 161970\n end_ms: 164760\n- text: Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n start_ms: 164760\n end_ms: 166770\n- text: Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n start_ms: 166770\n end_ms: 169570\n- text: What the, is you stupid\n start_ms: 169570\n end_ms: 170530\n- text: I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n start_ms: 170530\n end_ms: 172900\n- text: With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n start_ms: 172900\n end_ms: 175530\n- text: With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n start_ms: 175530\n end_ms: 177400\n- text: Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n start_ms: 177400\n end_ms: 179820\n- text: And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n start_ms: 179820\n end_ms: 182430\n- text: All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n start_ms: 182430\n end_ms: 184740\n- text: You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n start_ms: 184740\n end_ms: 186740\n- text: I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n start_ms: 186740\n end_ms: 189510\n- text: Softer than Alize with a chaser\n start_ms: 189510\n end_ms: 191660\n- text: About to get murdered for the paper\n start_ms: 191660\n end_ms: 193280\n- text: E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n start_ms: 193280\n end_ms: 195260\n- text: Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n start_ms: 195260\n end_ms: 197790\n- text: Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n start_ms: 197790\n end_ms: 201370\n- text: Better be knowin'\n start_ms: 201370\n end_ms: 202150\n- text: We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n start_ms: 202150\n end_ms: 204480\n- text: No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n start_ms: 204480\n end_ms: 206140\n- text: I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n start_ms: 206140\n end_ms: 208720\n- text: I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n start_ms: 208720\n end_ms: 211280\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 211280\n end_ms: 214020\n- text: We hit 'em up\n start_ms: 214020\n end_ms: 216780\n- text: Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n start_ms: 216780\n end_ms: 218870\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 218870\n end_ms: 221040\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 221040\n end_ms: 222960\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 222960\n end_ms: 224650\n- text: Hit 'em up, that's right!\n start_ms: 224650\n end_ms: 226040\n- text: (Take money, take money)\n start_ms: 226040\n end_ms: 226570\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 226570\nplain: |-\n We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n (I think they do)\n\n When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\n They don't wanna play my song\n But they wanna play fat boy over here\n What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (What's up)\n\n First off, f- and the clique you claim\n Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\n Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\n Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\n I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\n See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\n Check this out\n West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\n Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n Biggie Smalls just got shot\n Little Moo', pass the MAC\n And let me hit him in his back\n\n Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n Little accident murderer\n And I ain't never heard of ya\n Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\n Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\n With the ready power\n Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\n When you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, say what?\n\n Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n With your mouths open\n Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\n Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n N- think they learned to fly\n But they burn, you deserve to die\n Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\n All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n I'm a self-made millionaire\n Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\n And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n Now I'm back to set the record straight\n\n With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\n I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\n Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n What the, is you stupid\n I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\n With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\n You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n Softer than Alize with a chaser\n About to get murdered for the paper\n\n E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n Better be knowin'\n We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\n No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n We hit 'em up\n Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Hit 'em up, that's right!\n\n (Take money, take money)\n"},{"id":17245287,"name":"Hit ’Em Up","trackName":"Hit ’Em Up","artistName":"2Pac","albumName":"Makaveli 3: Hit ’Em Up","duration":322.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\nYeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\nHey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n(I think they do)\n\nWhen this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\nI want all the West Coast people to give up some love\nWhen this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\nThey tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\nThey don't wanna play my song\nBut they wanna play fat boy over here\nWhat? Come on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (What's up)\n\nFirst off, f- and the clique you claim\nWestside when we ride, come equipped with game\nYou claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\nWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\nPlus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\nBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\nWe keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\nSteady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\nLil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\nCut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\nLil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\nQuick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\nI'll let them n- know it's on for life\nDon't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\nBad Boy murdered on wax and killed\nF- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\nSee, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nN-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\nCheck this out\nWest Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\nGet out the way yo, get out the way yo\nBiggie Smalls just got shot\nLittle Moo', pass the MAC\nAnd let me hit him in his back\n\nFrank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\nLittle accident murderer\nAnd I ain't never heard of ya\nPoisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\nSpank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\nGuard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\nP- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\nAnd I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\nWith the ready power\nTucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\nI push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\nWhen you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, say what?\n\nPeep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\nThis ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\nWith your mouths open\nTryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\nSmokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\nN- think they learned to fly\nBut they burn, you deserve to die\nTalkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\nAll you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\nI'm a self-made millionaire\nThug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\nBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\nAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\nNow it's all about Versace, you copied my style\nFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\nNow I'm back to set the record straight\n\nWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\nI'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\nNo points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\nNow go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\nI'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\nLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\nGet your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\nWhat the, is you stupid\nI take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\nWith my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\nWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\nOutlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\nAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\nAll your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\nYou's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\nI'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\nSofter than Alize with a chaser\nAbout to get murdered for the paper\n\nE.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\nLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\nGun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\nBetter be knowin'\nWe approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\nNo need for hopin', it's a battle lost\nI got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\nI hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\nWe hit 'em up\nGrab your glocks when you see Tupac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nHit 'em up, that's right!\n\n(Take money, take money)","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.43] We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n[00:03.77] Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n[00:04.95] Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n[00:05.92] (I think they do)\n[00:06.92] When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n[00:07.78] I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n[00:08.59] When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n[00:09.10] They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n[00:09.93] They don't wanna play my song\n[00:10.36] But they wanna play fat boy over here\n[00:10.66] What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:11.19] Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:11.62] Come on, come on (What's up)\n[00:12.88] First off, f- and the clique you claim\n[00:15.18] Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n[00:17.86] You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n[00:20.13] We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n[00:22.53] Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n[00:25.14] Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n[00:28.17] We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n[00:30.55] Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n[00:33.49] Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n[00:35.58] Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n[00:38.13] Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n[00:40.56] Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n[00:43.50] I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n[00:45.67] Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n[00:48.38] Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n[00:50.51] F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n[00:53.07] See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[00:55.70] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[00:58.45] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:00.74] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:02.75] N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n[01:04.27] Check this out\n[01:05.27] West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n[01:07.87] \n[01:13.24] Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n[01:16.28] Biggie Smalls just got shot\n[01:17.87] Little Moo', pass the MAC\n[01:19.39] And let me hit him in his back\n[01:20.84] Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n[01:23.73] Little accident murderer\n[01:24.88] And I ain't never heard of ya\n[01:26.26] Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n[01:28.72] Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n[01:30.87] Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n[01:33.62] P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n[01:36.16] And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n[01:38.50] With the ready power\n[01:39.67] Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n[01:41.63] I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n[01:44.46] When you see 2Pac\n[01:47.16] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[01:49.51] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:51.69] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:53.63] Nigga, say what?\n[01:55.02] Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n[01:56.67] This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n[01:59.22] With your mouths open\n[02:00.43] Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n[02:03.04] Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n[02:05.03] N- think they learned to fly\n[02:06.19] But they burn, you deserve to die\n[02:08.89] Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n[02:11.19] All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n[02:13.66] I'm a self-made millionaire\n[02:15.86] Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n[02:18.43] Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n[02:20.74] And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n[02:23.44] Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n[02:27.02] Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n[02:29.07] Now I'm back to set the record straight\n[02:31.48] With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n[02:34.70] I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n[02:37.15] No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n[02:39.70] Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n[02:41.97] I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n[02:44.76] Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n[02:46.77] Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n[02:49.57] What the, is you stupid\n[02:50.53] I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n[02:52.90] With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n[02:55.53] With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n[02:57.40] Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n[02:59.82] And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n[03:02.43] All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n[03:04.74] You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n[03:06.74] I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n[03:09.51] Softer than Alize with a chaser\n[03:11.66] About to get murdered for the paper\n[03:13.28] E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n[03:15.26] Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n[03:17.79] Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n[03:21.37] Better be knowin'\n[03:22.15] We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n[03:24.48] No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n[03:26.14] I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n[03:28.72] I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n[03:31.28] \n[03:34.02] We hit 'em up\n[03:36.78] Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n[03:38.87] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[03:41.04] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[03:42.96] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[03:44.65] Hit 'em up, that's right!\n[03:46.04] (Take money, take money)\n[03:46.57] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Hit ’Em Up\n artist: 2Pac\n album: 'Makaveli 3: Hit ’Em Up'\n duration_ms: 322000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n start_ms: 2430\n end_ms: 3770\n- text: Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n start_ms: 3770\n end_ms: 4950\n- text: Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n start_ms: 4950\n end_ms: 5920\n- text: (I think they do)\n start_ms: 5920\n end_ms: 6920\n- text: When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n start_ms: 6920\n end_ms: 7780\n- text: I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n start_ms: 7780\n end_ms: 8590\n- text: When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n start_ms: 8590\n end_ms: 9100\n- text: They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n start_ms: 9100\n end_ms: 9930\n- text: They don't wanna play my song\n start_ms: 9930\n end_ms: 10360\n- text: But they wanna play fat boy over here\n start_ms: 10360\n end_ms: 10660\n- text: What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 10660\n end_ms: 11190\n- text: Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 11190\n end_ms: 11620\n- text: Come on, come on (What's up)\n start_ms: 11620\n end_ms: 12880\n- text: First off, f- and the clique you claim\n start_ms: 12880\n end_ms: 15180\n- text: Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n start_ms: 15180\n end_ms: 17860\n- text: You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n start_ms: 17860\n end_ms: 20130\n- text: We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n start_ms: 20130\n end_ms: 22530\n- text: Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n start_ms: 22530\n end_ms: 25140\n- text: Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n start_ms: 25140\n end_ms: 28170\n- text: We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n start_ms: 28170\n end_ms: 30550\n- text: Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n start_ms: 30550\n end_ms: 33490\n- text: Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n start_ms: 33490\n end_ms: 35580\n- text: Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n start_ms: 35580\n end_ms: 38130\n- text: Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n start_ms: 38130\n end_ms: 40560\n- text: Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n start_ms: 40560\n end_ms: 43500\n- text: I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n start_ms: 43500\n end_ms: 45670\n- text: Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n start_ms: 45670\n end_ms: 48380\n- text: Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n start_ms: 48380\n end_ms: 50510\n- text: F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n start_ms: 50510\n end_ms: 53070\n- text: See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 53070\n end_ms: 55700\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 55700\n end_ms: 58450\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 58450\n end_ms: 60740\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 60740\n end_ms: 62750\n- text: N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n start_ms: 62750\n end_ms: 64270\n- text: Check this out\n start_ms: 64270\n end_ms: 65270\n- text: West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n start_ms: 65270\n end_ms: 67870\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 67870\n end_ms: 73240\n- text: Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n start_ms: 73240\n end_ms: 76280\n- text: Biggie Smalls just got shot\n start_ms: 76280\n end_ms: 77870\n- text: Little Moo', pass the MAC\n start_ms: 77870\n end_ms: 79390\n- text: And let me hit him in his back\n start_ms: 79390\n end_ms: 80840\n- text: Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n start_ms: 80840\n end_ms: 83730\n- text: Little accident murderer\n start_ms: 83730\n end_ms: 84880\n- text: And I ain't never heard of ya\n start_ms: 84880\n end_ms: 86260\n- text: Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n start_ms: 86260\n end_ms: 88720\n- text: Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n start_ms: 88720\n end_ms: 90870\n- text: Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n start_ms: 90870\n end_ms: 93620\n- text: P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n start_ms: 93620\n end_ms: 96160\n- text: And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n start_ms: 96160\n end_ms: 98500\n- text: With the ready power\n start_ms: 98500\n end_ms: 99670\n- text: Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n start_ms: 99670\n end_ms: 101630\n- text: I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 101630\n end_ms: 104460\n- text: When you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 104460\n end_ms: 107160\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 107160\n end_ms: 109510\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 109510\n end_ms: 111690\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 111690\n end_ms: 113630\n- text: Nigga, say what?\n start_ms: 113630\n end_ms: 115020\n- text: Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n start_ms: 115020\n end_ms: 116670\n- text: This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n start_ms: 116670\n end_ms: 119220\n- text: With your mouths open\n start_ms: 119220\n end_ms: 120430\n- text: Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n start_ms: 120430\n end_ms: 123040\n- text: Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n start_ms: 123040\n end_ms: 125030\n- text: N- think they learned to fly\n start_ms: 125030\n end_ms: 126190\n- text: But they burn, you deserve to die\n start_ms: 126190\n end_ms: 128890\n- text: Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n start_ms: 128890\n end_ms: 131190\n- text: All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n start_ms: 131190\n end_ms: 133660\n- text: I'm a self-made millionaire\n start_ms: 133660\n end_ms: 135860\n- text: Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n start_ms: 135860\n end_ms: 138430\n- text: Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n start_ms: 138430\n end_ms: 140740\n- text: And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n start_ms: 140740\n end_ms: 143440\n- text: Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n start_ms: 143440\n end_ms: 147020\n- text: Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n start_ms: 147020\n end_ms: 149070\n- text: Now I'm back to set the record straight\n start_ms: 149070\n end_ms: 151480\n- text: With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n start_ms: 151480\n end_ms: 154700\n- text: I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n start_ms: 154700\n end_ms: 157150\n- text: No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n start_ms: 157150\n end_ms: 159700\n- text: 'Now go check the scenario: Lil'' Cease'\n start_ms: 159700\n end_ms: 161970\n- text: I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n start_ms: 161970\n end_ms: 164760\n- text: Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n start_ms: 164760\n end_ms: 166770\n- text: Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n start_ms: 166770\n end_ms: 169570\n- text: What the, is you stupid\n start_ms: 169570\n end_ms: 170530\n- text: I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n start_ms: 170530\n end_ms: 172900\n- text: With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n start_ms: 172900\n end_ms: 175530\n- text: With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n start_ms: 175530\n end_ms: 177400\n- text: Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n start_ms: 177400\n end_ms: 179820\n- text: And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n start_ms: 179820\n end_ms: 182430\n- text: All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n start_ms: 182430\n end_ms: 184740\n- text: You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n start_ms: 184740\n end_ms: 186740\n- text: I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n start_ms: 186740\n end_ms: 189510\n- text: Softer than Alize with a chaser\n start_ms: 189510\n end_ms: 191660\n- text: About to get murdered for the paper\n start_ms: 191660\n end_ms: 193280\n- text: E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n start_ms: 193280\n end_ms: 195260\n- text: Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n start_ms: 195260\n end_ms: 197790\n- text: Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n start_ms: 197790\n end_ms: 201370\n- text: Better be knowin'\n start_ms: 201370\n end_ms: 202150\n- text: We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n start_ms: 202150\n end_ms: 204480\n- text: No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n start_ms: 204480\n end_ms: 206140\n- text: I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n start_ms: 206140\n end_ms: 208720\n- text: I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n start_ms: 208720\n end_ms: 211280\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 211280\n end_ms: 214020\n- text: We hit 'em up\n start_ms: 214020\n end_ms: 216780\n- text: Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n start_ms: 216780\n end_ms: 218870\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 218870\n end_ms: 221040\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 221040\n end_ms: 222960\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 222960\n end_ms: 224650\n- text: Hit 'em up, that's right!\n start_ms: 224650\n end_ms: 226040\n- text: (Take money, take money)\n start_ms: 226040\n end_ms: 226570\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 226570\nplain: |-\n We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n (I think they do)\n\n When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\n They don't wanna play my song\n But they wanna play fat boy over here\n What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (What's up)\n\n First off, f- and the clique you claim\n Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\n Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\n Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\n I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\n See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\n Check this out\n West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\n Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n Biggie Smalls just got shot\n Little Moo', pass the MAC\n And let me hit him in his back\n\n Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n Little accident murderer\n And I ain't never heard of ya\n Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\n Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\n With the ready power\n Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\n When you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, say what?\n\n Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n With your mouths open\n Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\n Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n N- think they learned to fly\n But they burn, you deserve to die\n Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\n All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n I'm a self-made millionaire\n Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\n And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n Now I'm back to set the record straight\n\n With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\n I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\n Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n What the, is you stupid\n I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\n With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\n You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n Softer than Alize with a chaser\n About to get murdered for the paper\n\n E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n Better be knowin'\n We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\n No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n We hit 'em up\n Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Hit 'em up, that's right!\n\n (Take money, take money)\n"},{"id":29134563,"name":"Hit 'Em Up - Outlawz, 2Pac","trackName":"Hit 'Em Up - Outlawz, 2Pac","artistName":"2Pac","albumName":"2Pac - Greatest Hits","duration":312.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Sucka-ass, I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends\nThat's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker\n(Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas\n(Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is\n(Take money) niggas, we bring it too\nThat's 'ight, ha-ha\n(Take money) ha-ha\n\nFirst off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claim\nWestside when we ride, come equipped with game\nYou claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife\nWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life\n\nPlus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\nBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\nWe keep on coming while we running for your jewels\nSteady gunning, keep on busting at them fools, you know the rules\n\nLil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\nCut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\nLil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's\nQuick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace\n\nI'll let them niggas know it's on for life\nDon't let the Westside ride tonight, ha-ha\nBad Boy murdered on wax and killed\nFuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\nSee, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace (uh)\nNigga, I hit 'em up\n\nCheck this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is\nI don't even know why I'm on this track\nY'all niggas ain't even on my level\nI'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it!\n\nGet out the way, yo, get out the way, yo\nBiggie Smalls just got dropped\nLittle Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back\nFrank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps\n\nLittle accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya\nPoisonous gats attack when I'm serving ya\nSpank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\nGuard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint\n\nPuffy weaker than the fucking block I'm running through, nigga\nAnd I'm smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga\nWith the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\nYour clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\nGrab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, we hit 'em up\n\nPeep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\nThis ain't no freestyle battle\nAll you niggas getting killed with your mouths open\nTryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping\nSmoking dope, it's like a sherm high\nNiggas think they learned to fly\nBut they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die\nTalking about you getting money, but it's funny to me\nAll you niggas living bummy while you fucking with me\n\nI'm a self-made millionaire\nThug living, out of prison, pistols in the air, ha-ha\nBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\nAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\nNow it's all about Versace, you copied my style\nFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\nNow I'm back to set the record straight\nWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\nMotherfucker, I hit 'em up!\n\nI'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\nNo points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs\nNow go check the scenario, Lil Cease\nI'll bring you fake G's to your knees, copping pleas in de Janeiro\n\nLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\nGet your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up\nWhat the fuck? Is you stupid?\nI take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\nWith my clique looting, shooting and polluting your block\n\nWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\nOutlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch\nAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\nAll your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\nYou's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\nI'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit, but a faker\nSofter than Alizé with a chaser\nAbout to get murdered for the paper\nE.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n\nLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\nGun toting smoke, we ain't no motherfucking joke\nThug Life, niggas better be knowing\nWe approaching in the wide open, gun smoking\nNo need for hoping, it's a battle lost\nI got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off\nNigga, I hit 'em up\n\nNow you tell me who won\nI see them, they run, hahahaha\nThey don't wanna see us\nWhole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up tryna be us\nHow the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job?\nWe millionaires\nKilling ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it\n\nOh-yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us?\nYou little young-ass motherfuckers\nDon't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something?\nYou're fucking with me, nigga\nYou fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack\nYou better back the fuck up, 'fore you get smacked the fuck up\nThis is how we do it on our side\n\nAny of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it\nBut we ain't singing, we bringing drama\nFuck you and yo' motherfucking mama!\nWe gon' kill all you motherfuckers!\nNow when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie\nThen everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfucking opinion\n\nWell, this is how we gonna do this, fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!\nFuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfucking crew\nAnd if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too\nChino XL, fuck you too\nAll you motherfuckers, fuck you too\n(Take money, take money)\n\nAll of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow motherfucker\nMy .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!\nYou motherfuckers can't be us or see us\nWe motherfucking Thug Life ridas, Westside 'til we die!\nOut here in California, nigga, we warned ya\nWe'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!\n\nYou think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfucking mob!\nAin't nothing but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us\nOur shit goes triple and four-quadruple\nYou niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns in they motherfuckers belts\nYou know how it is, when we drop records, they felt\nYou niggas can't feel it, we the realest\nFuck 'em! We Bad Boy killas","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.01] Sucka-ass, I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends\n[00:01.73] That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker\n[00:03.91] (Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas\n[00:07.07] (Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is\n[00:08.99] (Take money) niggas, we bring it too\n[00:10.39] That's 'ight, ha-ha\n[00:11.79] (Take money) ha-ha\n[00:12.82] First off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claim\n[00:15.43] Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n[00:18.08] You claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife\n[00:20.55] We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life\n[00:23.04] Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n[00:25.30] Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n[00:28.49] We keep on coming while we running for your jewels\n[00:30.52] Steady gunning, keep on busting at them fools, you know the rules\n[00:33.38] Lil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n[00:35.45] Cut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n[00:38.52] Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's\n[00:40.51] Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace\n[00:43.42] I'll let them niggas know it's on for life\n[00:45.49] Don't let the Westside ride tonight, ha-ha\n[00:48.57] Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n[00:50.65] Fuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n[00:53.24] See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[00:56.11] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[00:58.85] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:00.70] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace (uh)\n[01:02.78] Nigga, I hit 'em up\n[01:03.96] Check this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is\n[01:06.08] I don't even know why I'm on this track\n[01:07.64] Y'all niggas ain't even on my level\n[01:09.09] I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it!\n[01:13.02] Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo\n[01:16.05] Biggie Smalls just got dropped\n[01:17.76] Little Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back\n[01:20.81] Frank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps\n[01:23.55] Little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya\n[01:26.35] Poisonous gats attack when I'm serving ya\n[01:28.73] Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n[01:31.18] Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint\n[01:33.54] Puffy weaker than the fucking block I'm running through, nigga\n[01:36.09] And I'm smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga\n[01:38.52] With the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n[01:41.24] Your clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n[01:44.28] Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[01:46.75] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[01:49.13] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:51.13] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:53.38] Nigga, we hit 'em up\n[01:54.15] Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n[01:56.95] This ain't no freestyle battle\n[01:58.07] All you niggas getting killed with your mouths open\n[02:00.52] Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping\n[02:03.11] Smoking dope, it's like a sherm high\n[02:04.61] Niggas think they learned to fly\n[02:06.34] But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die\n[02:08.97] Talking about you getting money, but it's funny to me\n[02:11.42] All you niggas living bummy while you fucking with me\n[02:13.82] I'm a self-made millionaire\n[02:15.43] Thug living, out of prison, pistols in the air, ha-ha\n[02:18.61] Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n[02:21.48] And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n[02:23.92] Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n[02:26.33] Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n[02:28.83] Now I'm back to set the record straight\n[02:30.78] With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n[02:33.05] Motherfucker, I hit 'em up!\n[02:34.29] I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n[02:36.84] No points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs\n[02:39.20] Now go check the scenario, Lil Cease\n[02:41.07] I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, copping pleas in de Janeiro\n[02:44.48] Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n[02:46.38] Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up\n[02:48.40] What the fuck? Is you stupid?\n[02:50.03] I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n[02:52.17] With my clique looting, shooting and polluting your block\n[02:54.66] With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n[02:56.76] Outlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch\n[02:59.31] And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n[03:01.64] All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n[03:04.42] You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n[03:07.07] I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit, but a faker\n[03:09.51] Softer than Alizé with a chaser\n[03:11.25] About to get murdered for the paper\n[03:13.08] E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n[03:15.33] Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n[03:17.59] Gun toting smoke, we ain't no motherfucking joke\n[03:19.95] Thug Life, niggas better be knowing\n[03:21.86] We approaching in the wide open, gun smoking\n[03:24.21] No need for hoping, it's a battle lost\n[03:26.28] I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off\n[03:29.17] Nigga, I hit 'em up\n[03:31.19] Now you tell me who won\n[03:32.61] I see them, they run, hahahaha\n[03:34.90] They don't wanna see us\n[03:36.52] Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up tryna be us\n[03:39.59] How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job?\n[03:41.66] We millionaires\n[03:42.52] Killing ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it\n[03:44.73] Oh-yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us?\n[03:47.45] You little young-ass motherfuckers\n[03:48.90] Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something?\n[03:51.11] You're fucking with me, nigga\n[03:51.94] You fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack\n[03:54.10] You better back the fuck up, 'fore you get smacked the fuck up\n[03:56.64] This is how we do it on our side\n[03:58.32] Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it\n[04:00.57] But we ain't singing, we bringing drama\n[04:02.31] Fuck you and yo' motherfucking mama!\n[04:04.33] We gon' kill all you motherfuckers!\n[04:06.12] Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie\n[04:08.63] Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfucking opinion\n[04:11.21] Well, this is how we gonna do this, fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!\n[04:15.04] Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfucking crew\n[04:18.78] And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too\n[04:21.80] Chino XL, fuck you too\n[04:24.18] All you motherfuckers, fuck you too\n[04:26.19] (Take money, take money)\n[04:29.15] All of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow motherfucker\n[04:32.04] My .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!\n[04:34.89] You motherfuckers can't be us or see us\n[04:37.14] We motherfucking Thug Life ridas, Westside 'til we die!\n[04:40.51] Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya\n[04:42.69] We'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!\n[04:45.55] You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfucking mob!\n[04:47.82] Ain't nothing but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us\n[04:51.22] Our shit goes triple and four-quadruple\n[04:55.75] You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns in they motherfuckers belts\n[04:59.59] You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt\n[05:01.95] You niggas can't feel it, we the realest\n[05:03.98] Fuck 'em! We Bad Boy killas\n[05:05.18] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Hit 'Em Up - Outlawz, 2Pac\n artist: 2Pac\n album: 2Pac - Greatest Hits\n duration_ms: 312000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Sucka-ass, I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends\n start_ms: 10\n end_ms: 1730\n- text: That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker\n start_ms: 1730\n end_ms: 3910\n- text: (Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas\n start_ms: 3910\n end_ms: 7070\n- text: (Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is\n start_ms: 7070\n end_ms: 8990\n- text: (Take money) niggas, we bring it too\n start_ms: 8990\n end_ms: 10390\n- text: That's 'ight, ha-ha\n start_ms: 10390\n end_ms: 11790\n- text: (Take money) ha-ha\n start_ms: 11790\n end_ms: 12820\n- text: First off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claim\n start_ms: 12820\n end_ms: 15430\n- text: Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n start_ms: 15430\n end_ms: 18080\n- text: You claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife\n start_ms: 18080\n end_ms: 20550\n- text: We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life\n start_ms: 20550\n end_ms: 23040\n- text: Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n start_ms: 23040\n end_ms: 25300\n- text: Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n start_ms: 25300\n end_ms: 28490\n- text: We keep on coming while we running for your jewels\n start_ms: 28490\n end_ms: 30520\n- text: Steady gunning, keep on busting at them fools, you know the rules\n start_ms: 30520\n end_ms: 33380\n- text: Lil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n start_ms: 33380\n end_ms: 35450\n- text: Cut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n start_ms: 35450\n end_ms: 38520\n- text: Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's\n start_ms: 38520\n end_ms: 40510\n- text: Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace\n start_ms: 40510\n end_ms: 43420\n- text: I'll let them niggas know it's on for life\n start_ms: 43420\n end_ms: 45490\n- text: Don't let the Westside ride tonight, ha-ha\n start_ms: 45490\n end_ms: 48570\n- text: Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n start_ms: 48570\n end_ms: 50650\n- text: Fuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n start_ms: 50650\n end_ms: 53240\n- text: See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 53240\n end_ms: 56110\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 56110\n end_ms: 58850\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 58850\n end_ms: 60700\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace (uh)\n start_ms: 60700\n end_ms: 62780\n- text: Nigga, I hit 'em up\n start_ms: 62780\n end_ms: 63960\n- text: Check this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is\n start_ms: 63960\n end_ms: 66080\n- text: I don't even know why I'm on this track\n start_ms: 66080\n end_ms: 67640\n- text: Y'all niggas ain't even on my level\n start_ms: 67640\n end_ms: 69090\n- text: I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it!\n start_ms: 69090\n end_ms: 73020\n- text: Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo\n start_ms: 73020\n end_ms: 76050\n- text: Biggie Smalls just got dropped\n start_ms: 76050\n end_ms: 77760\n- text: Little Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back\n start_ms: 77760\n end_ms: 80810\n- text: Frank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps\n start_ms: 80810\n end_ms: 83550\n- text: Little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya\n start_ms: 83550\n end_ms: 86350\n- text: Poisonous gats attack when I'm serving ya\n start_ms: 86350\n end_ms: 88730\n- text: Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n start_ms: 88730\n end_ms: 91180\n- text: Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint\n start_ms: 91180\n end_ms: 93540\n- text: Puffy weaker than the fucking block I'm running through, nigga\n start_ms: 93540\n end_ms: 96090\n- text: And I'm smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga\n start_ms: 96090\n end_ms: 98520\n- text: With the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n start_ms: 98520\n end_ms: 101240\n- text: Your clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 101240\n end_ms: 104280\n- text: Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 104280\n end_ms: 106750\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 106750\n end_ms: 109130\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 109130\n end_ms: 111130\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 111130\n end_ms: 113380\n- text: Nigga, we hit 'em up\n start_ms: 113380\n end_ms: 114150\n- text: Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n start_ms: 114150\n end_ms: 116950\n- text: This ain't no freestyle battle\n start_ms: 116950\n end_ms: 118070\n- text: All you niggas getting killed with your mouths open\n start_ms: 118070\n end_ms: 120520\n- text: Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping\n start_ms: 120520\n end_ms: 123110\n- text: Smoking dope, it's like a sherm high\n start_ms: 123110\n end_ms: 124610\n- text: Niggas think they learned to fly\n start_ms: 124610\n end_ms: 126340\n- text: But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die\n start_ms: 126340\n end_ms: 128970\n- text: Talking about you getting money, but it's funny to me\n start_ms: 128970\n end_ms: 131420\n- text: All you niggas living bummy while you fucking with me\n start_ms: 131420\n end_ms: 133820\n- text: I'm a self-made millionaire\n start_ms: 133820\n end_ms: 135430\n- text: Thug living, out of prison, pistols in the air, ha-ha\n start_ms: 135430\n end_ms: 138610\n- text: Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n start_ms: 138610\n end_ms: 141480\n- text: And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n start_ms: 141480\n end_ms: 143920\n- text: Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n start_ms: 143920\n end_ms: 146330\n- text: Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n start_ms: 146330\n end_ms: 148830\n- text: Now I'm back to set the record straight\n start_ms: 148830\n end_ms: 150780\n- text: With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n start_ms: 150780\n end_ms: 153050\n- text: Motherfucker, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 153050\n end_ms: 154290\n- text: I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n start_ms: 154290\n end_ms: 156840\n- text: No points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs\n start_ms: 156840\n end_ms: 159200\n- text: Now go check the scenario, Lil Cease\n start_ms: 159200\n end_ms: 161070\n- text: I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, copping pleas in de Janeiro\n start_ms: 161070\n end_ms: 164480\n- text: Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n start_ms: 164480\n end_ms: 166380\n- text: Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up\n start_ms: 166380\n end_ms: 168400\n- text: What the fuck? Is you stupid?\n start_ms: 168400\n end_ms: 170030\n- text: I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n start_ms: 170030\n end_ms: 172170\n- text: With my clique looting, shooting and polluting your block\n start_ms: 172170\n end_ms: 174660\n- text: With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n start_ms: 174660\n end_ms: 176760\n- text: Outlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch\n start_ms: 176760\n end_ms: 179310\n- text: And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n start_ms: 179310\n end_ms: 181640\n- text: All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n start_ms: 181640\n end_ms: 184420\n- text: You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n start_ms: 184420\n end_ms: 187070\n- text: I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit, but a faker\n start_ms: 187070\n end_ms: 189510\n- text: Softer than Alizé with a chaser\n start_ms: 189510\n end_ms: 191250\n- text: About to get murdered for the paper\n start_ms: 191250\n end_ms: 193080\n- text: E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n start_ms: 193080\n end_ms: 195330\n- text: Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n start_ms: 195330\n end_ms: 197590\n- text: Gun toting smoke, we ain't no motherfucking joke\n start_ms: 197590\n end_ms: 199950\n- text: Thug Life, niggas better be knowing\n start_ms: 199950\n end_ms: 201860\n- text: We approaching in the wide open, gun smoking\n start_ms: 201860\n end_ms: 204210\n- text: No need for hoping, it's a battle lost\n start_ms: 204210\n end_ms: 206280\n- text: I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off\n start_ms: 206280\n end_ms: 209170\n- text: Nigga, I hit 'em up\n start_ms: 209170\n end_ms: 211190\n- text: Now you tell me who won\n start_ms: 211190\n end_ms: 212610\n- text: I see them, they run, hahahaha\n start_ms: 212610\n end_ms: 214900\n- text: They don't wanna see us\n start_ms: 214900\n end_ms: 216520\n- text: Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up tryna be us\n start_ms: 216520\n end_ms: 219590\n- text: How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job?\n start_ms: 219590\n end_ms: 221660\n- text: We millionaires\n start_ms: 221660\n end_ms: 222520\n- text: Killing ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it\n start_ms: 222520\n end_ms: 224730\n- text: Oh-yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us?\n start_ms: 224730\n end_ms: 227450\n- text: You little young-ass motherfuckers\n start_ms: 227450\n end_ms: 228900\n- text: Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something?\n start_ms: 228900\n end_ms: 231110\n- text: You're fucking with me, nigga\n start_ms: 231110\n end_ms: 231940\n- text: You fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack\n start_ms: 231940\n end_ms: 234100\n- text: You better back the fuck up, 'fore you get smacked the fuck up\n start_ms: 234100\n end_ms: 236640\n- text: This is how we do it on our side\n start_ms: 236640\n end_ms: 238320\n- text: Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it\n start_ms: 238320\n end_ms: 240570\n- text: But we ain't singing, we bringing drama\n start_ms: 240570\n end_ms: 242310\n- text: Fuck you and yo' motherfucking mama!\n start_ms: 242310\n end_ms: 244330\n- text: We gon' kill all you motherfuckers!\n start_ms: 244330\n end_ms: 246120\n- text: Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie\n start_ms: 246120\n end_ms: 248630\n- text: Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfucking opinion\n start_ms: 248630\n end_ms: 251210\n- text: Well, this is how we gonna do this, fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!\n start_ms: 251210\n end_ms: 255040\n- text: Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfucking crew\n start_ms: 255040\n end_ms: 258780\n- text: And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too\n start_ms: 258780\n end_ms: 261800\n- text: Chino XL, fuck you too\n start_ms: 261800\n end_ms: 264180\n- text: All you motherfuckers, fuck you too\n start_ms: 264180\n end_ms: 266190\n- text: (Take money, take money)\n start_ms: 266190\n end_ms: 269150\n- text: All of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow motherfucker\n start_ms: 269150\n end_ms: 272040\n- text: My .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!\n start_ms: 272040\n end_ms: 274890\n- text: You motherfuckers can't be us or see us\n start_ms: 274890\n end_ms: 277140\n- text: We motherfucking Thug Life ridas, Westside 'til we die!\n start_ms: 277140\n end_ms: 280510\n- text: Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya\n start_ms: 280510\n end_ms: 282690\n- text: We'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!\n start_ms: 282690\n end_ms: 285550\n- text: You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfucking mob!\n start_ms: 285550\n end_ms: 287820\n- text: Ain't nothing but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us\n start_ms: 287820\n end_ms: 291220\n- text: Our shit goes triple and four-quadruple\n start_ms: 291220\n end_ms: 295750\n- text: You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns in they motherfuckers belts\n start_ms: 295750\n end_ms: 299590\n- text: You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt\n start_ms: 299590\n end_ms: 301950\n- text: You niggas can't feel it, we the realest\n start_ms: 301950\n end_ms: 303980\n- text: Fuck 'em! We Bad Boy killas\n start_ms: 303980\n end_ms: 305180\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 305180\nplain: |-\n Sucka-ass, I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends\n That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker\n (Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas\n (Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is\n (Take money) niggas, we bring it too\n That's 'ight, ha-ha\n (Take money) ha-ha\n\n First off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claim\n Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n You claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife\n We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life\n\n Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n We keep on coming while we running for your jewels\n Steady gunning, keep on busting at them fools, you know the rules\n\n Lil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n Cut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's\n Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace\n\n I'll let them niggas know it's on for life\n Don't let the Westside ride tonight, ha-ha\n Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n Fuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\n See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace (uh)\n Nigga, I hit 'em up\n\n Check this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is\n I don't even know why I'm on this track\n Y'all niggas ain't even on my level\n I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it!\n\n Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo\n Biggie Smalls just got dropped\n Little Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back\n Frank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps\n\n Little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya\n Poisonous gats attack when I'm serving ya\n Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint\n\n Puffy weaker than the fucking block I'm running through, nigga\n And I'm smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga\n With the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n Your clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\n Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, we hit 'em up\n\n Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n This ain't no freestyle battle\n All you niggas getting killed with your mouths open\n Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping\n Smoking dope, it's like a sherm high\n Niggas think they learned to fly\n But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die\n Talking about you getting money, but it's funny to me\n All you niggas living bummy while you fucking with me\n\n I'm a self-made millionaire\n Thug living, out of prison, pistols in the air, ha-ha\n Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n Now I'm back to set the record straight\n With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n Motherfucker, I hit 'em up!\n\n I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n No points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs\n Now go check the scenario, Lil Cease\n I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, copping pleas in de Janeiro\n\n Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up\n What the fuck? Is you stupid?\n I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n With my clique looting, shooting and polluting your block\n\n With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n Outlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch\n And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\n You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit, but a faker\n Softer than Alizé with a chaser\n About to get murdered for the paper\n E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n\n Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n Gun toting smoke, we ain't no motherfucking joke\n Thug Life, niggas better be knowing\n We approaching in the wide open, gun smoking\n No need for hoping, it's a battle lost\n I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off\n Nigga, I hit 'em up\n\n Now you tell me who won\n I see them, they run, hahahaha\n They don't wanna see us\n Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up tryna be us\n How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job?\n We millionaires\n Killing ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it\n\n Oh-yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us?\n You little young-ass motherfuckers\n Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something?\n You're fucking with me, nigga\n You fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack\n You better back the fuck up, 'fore you get smacked the fuck up\n This is how we do it on our side\n\n Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it\n But we ain't singing, we bringing drama\n Fuck you and yo' motherfucking mama!\n We gon' kill all you motherfuckers!\n Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie\n Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfucking opinion\n\n Well, this is how we gonna do this, fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!\n Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfucking crew\n And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too\n Chino XL, fuck you too\n All you motherfuckers, fuck you too\n (Take money, take money)\n\n All of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow motherfucker\n My .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!\n You motherfuckers can't be us or see us\n We motherfucking Thug Life ridas, Westside 'til we die!\n Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya\n We'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!\n\n You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfucking mob!\n Ain't nothing but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us\n Our shit goes triple and four-quadruple\n You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns in they motherfuckers belts\n You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt\n You niggas can't feel it, we the realest\n Fuck 'em! We Bad Boy killas\n"},{"id":38491754,"name":"Hit 'Em Up - Single Version","trackName":"Hit 'Em Up - Single Version","artistName":"2Pac/Outlawz","albumName":"Hit 'Em Up","duration":312.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Sucka-ass, I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends\nThat's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker\n(Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas\n(Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is\n(Take money) niggas, we bring it too\nThat's 'ight, ha-ha\n(Take money) ha-ha\n\nFirst off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claim\nWestside when we ride, come equipped with game\nYou claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife\nWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life\n\nPlus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\nBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\nWe keep on coming while we running for your jewels\nSteady gunning, keep on busting at them fools, you know the rules\n\nLil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\nCut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\nLil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's\nQuick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace\n\nI'll let them niggas know it's on for life\nDon't let the Westside ride tonight, ha-ha\nBad Boy murdered on wax and killed\nFuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\nSee, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace (uh)\nNigga, I hit 'em up\n\nCheck this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is\nI don't even know why I'm on this track\nY'all niggas ain't even on my level\nI'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it!\n\nGet out the way, yo, get out the way, yo\nBiggie Smalls just got dropped\nLittle Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back\nFrank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps\n\nLittle accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya\nPoisonous gats attack when I'm serving ya\nSpank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\nGuard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint\n\nPuffy weaker than the fucking block I'm running through, nigga\nAnd I'm smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga\nWith the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\nYour clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\nGrab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, we hit 'em up\n\nPeep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\nThis ain't no freestyle battle\nAll you niggas getting killed with your mouths open\nTryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping\nSmoking dope, it's like a sherm high\nNiggas think they learned to fly\nBut they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die\nTalking about you getting money, but it's funny to me\nAll you niggas living bummy while you fucking with me\n\nI'm a self-made millionaire\nThug living, out of prison, pistols in the air, ha-ha\nBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\nAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\nNow it's all about Versace, you copied my style\nFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\nNow I'm back to set the record straight\nWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\nMotherfucker, I hit 'em up!\n\nI'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\nNo points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs\nNow go check the scenario, Lil Cease\nI'll bring you fake G's to your knees, copping pleas in de Janeiro\n\nLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\nGet your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up\nWhat the fuck? Is you stupid?\nI take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\nWith my clique looting, shooting and polluting your block\n\nWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\nOutlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch\nAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\nAll your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\nYou's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\nI'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit, but a faker\nSofter than Alizé with a chaser\nAbout to get murdered for the paper\nE.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n\nLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\nGun toting smoke, we ain't no motherfucking joke\nThug Life, niggas better be knowing\nWe approaching in the wide open, gun smoking\nNo need for hoping, it's a battle lost\nI got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off\nNigga, I hit 'em up\n\nNow you tell me who won\nI see them, they run, hahahaha\nThey don't wanna see us\nWhole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up tryna be us\nHow the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job?\nWe millionaires\nKilling ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it\n\nOh-yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us?\nYou little young-ass motherfuckers\nDon't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something?\nYou're fucking with me, nigga\nYou fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack\nYou better back the fuck up, 'fore you get smacked the fuck up\nThis is how we do it on our side\n\nAny of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it\nBut we ain't singing, we bringing drama\nFuck you and yo' motherfucking mama!\nWe gon' kill all you motherfuckers!\nNow when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie\nThen everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfucking opinion\n\nWell, this is how we gonna do this, fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!\nFuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfucking crew\nAnd if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too\nChino XL, fuck you too\nAll you motherfuckers, fuck you too\n(Take money, take money)\n\nAll of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow motherfucker\nMy .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!\nYou motherfuckers can't be us or see us\nWe motherfucking Thug Life ridas, Westside 'til we die!\nOut here in California, nigga, we warned ya\nWe'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!\n\nYou think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfucking mob!\nAin't nothing but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us\nOur shit goes triple and four-quadruple\nYou niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns in they motherfuckers belts\nYou know how it is, when we drop records, they felt\nYou niggas can't feel it, we the realest\nFuck 'em! We Bad Boy killas","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.06]Sucka-ass, I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends\n[00:01.76]That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker\n[00:03.95](Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas\n[00:07.06](Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is\n[00:08.92](Take money) niggas, we bring it too\n[00:10.39]That's 'ight, ha-ha\n[00:11.73](Take money) ha-ha\n[00:12.55]First off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claim\n[00:15.44]Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n[00:17.88]You claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife\n[00:20.53]We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life\n[00:23.02]Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n[00:25.34]Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n[00:28.40]We keep on coming while we running for your jewels\n[00:30.58]Steady gunning, keep on busting at them fools, you know the rules\n[00:33.37]Lil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n[00:35.42]Cut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n[00:38.53]Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's\n[00:40.52]Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace\n[00:43.41]I'll let them niggas know it's on for life\n[00:45.49]Don't let the Westside ride tonight, ha-ha\n[00:48.21]Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n[00:50.63]Fuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n[00:53.07]See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[00:56.15]Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[00:58.82]Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:00.72]Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace (uh)\n[01:02.78]Nigga, I hit 'em up\n[01:03.99]Check this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is\n[01:06.00]I don't even know why I'm on this track\n[01:07.63]Y'all niggas ain't even on my level\n[01:09.06]I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it!\n[01:13.06]Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo\n[01:16.09]Biggie Smalls just got dropped\n[01:17.72]Little Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back\n[01:20.89]Frank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps\n[01:23.28]Little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya\n[01:26.16]Poisonous gats attack when I'm serving ya\n[01:28.43]Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n[01:31.13]Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint\n[01:33.54]Puffy weaker than the fucking block I'm running through, nigga\n[01:36.07]And I'm smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga\n[01:38.55]With the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n[01:41.29]Your clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n[01:44.08]Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[01:46.73]Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[01:49.16]Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:51.10]Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:53.17]Nigga, we hit 'em up\n[01:53.98]Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n[01:56.71]This ain't no freestyle battle\n[01:57.77]All you niggas getting killed with your mouths open\n[02:00.50]Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping\n[02:03.15]Smoking dope, it's like a sherm high\n[02:04.64]Niggas think they learned to fly\n[02:06.15]But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die\n[02:08.77]Talking about you getting money, but it's funny to me\n[02:11.27]All you niggas living bummy while you fucking with me\n[02:13.54]I'm a self-made millionaire\n[02:15.48]Thug living, out of prison, pistols in the air, ha-ha\n[02:18.68]Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n[02:21.28]And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n[02:23.93]Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n[02:26.33]Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n[02:28.88]Now I'm back to set the record straight\n[02:30.76]With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n[02:33.02]Motherfucker, I hit 'em up!\n[02:34.07]I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n[02:36.82]No points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs\n[02:39.17]Now go check the scenario, Lil Cease\n[02:41.00]I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, copping pleas in de Janeiro\n[02:44.17]Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n[02:46.33]Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up\n[02:48.46]What the fuck? Is you stupid?\n[02:49.86]I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n[02:52.11]With my clique looting, shooting and polluting your block\n[02:54.69]With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n[02:56.73]Outlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch\n[02:59.32]And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n[03:01.67]All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n[03:04.22]You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n[03:07.03]I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit, but a faker\n[03:09.54]Softer than Alizé with a chaser\n[03:11.23]About to get murdered for the paper\n[03:13.09]E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n[03:15.39]Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n[03:17.59]Gun toting smoke, we ain't no motherfucking joke\n[03:19.96]Thug Life, niggas better be knowing\n[03:21.86]We approaching in the wide open, gun smoking\n[03:24.23]No need for hoping, it's a battle lost\n[03:26.24]I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off\n[03:28.94]Nigga, I hit 'em up\n[03:30.92]Now you tell me who won\n[03:32.47]I see them, they run, hahahaha\n[03:34.78]They don't wanna see us\n[03:36.20]Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up tryna be us\n[03:39.24]How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job?\n[03:41.30]We millionaires\n[03:42.57]Killing ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it\n[03:44.56]Oh-yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us?\n[03:47.27]You little young-ass motherfuckers\n[03:48.97]Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something?\n[03:51.13]You're fucking with me, nigga\n[03:51.90]You fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack\n[03:53.83]You better back the fuck up, 'fore you get smacked the fuck up\n[03:56.40]This is how we do it on our side\n[03:58.12]Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it\n[04:00.23]But we ain't singing, we bringing drama\n[04:02.34]Fuck you and yo' motherfucking mama!\n[04:04.34]We gon' kill all you motherfuckers!\n[04:06.11]Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie\n[04:08.46]Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfucking opinion\n[04:11.28]Well, this is how we gonna do this, fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!\n[04:15.06]Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfucking crew\n[04:18.79]And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too\n[04:21.87]Chino XL, fuck you too\n[04:24.15]All you motherfuckers, fuck you too\n[04:26.38](Take money, take money)\n[04:29.14]All of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow motherfucker\n[04:32.02]My .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!\n[04:34.82]You motherfuckers can't be us or see us\n[04:37.19]We motherfucking Thug Life ridas, Westside 'til we die!\n[04:40.57]Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya\n[04:42.64]We'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!\n[04:45.56]You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfucking mob!\n[04:47.85]Ain't nothing but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us\n[04:51.24]Our shit goes triple and four-quadruple\n[04:55.70]You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns in they motherfuckers belts\n[04:59.56]You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt\n[05:01.71]You niggas can't feel it, we the realest\n[05:03.77]Fuck 'em! We Bad Boy killas\n[05:05.06]","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Hit 'Em Up - Single Version\n artist: 2Pac/Outlawz\n album: Hit 'Em Up\n duration_ms: 312000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Sucka-ass, I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends\n start_ms: 60\n end_ms: 1760\n- text: That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker\n start_ms: 1760\n end_ms: 3950\n- text: (Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas\n start_ms: 3950\n end_ms: 7060\n- text: (Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is\n start_ms: 7060\n end_ms: 8920\n- text: (Take money) niggas, we bring it too\n start_ms: 8920\n end_ms: 10390\n- text: That's 'ight, ha-ha\n start_ms: 10390\n end_ms: 11730\n- text: (Take money) ha-ha\n start_ms: 11730\n end_ms: 12550\n- text: First off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claim\n start_ms: 12550\n end_ms: 15440\n- text: Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n start_ms: 15440\n end_ms: 17880\n- text: You claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife\n start_ms: 17880\n end_ms: 20530\n- text: We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life\n start_ms: 20530\n end_ms: 23020\n- text: Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n start_ms: 23020\n end_ms: 25340\n- text: Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n start_ms: 25340\n end_ms: 28400\n- text: We keep on coming while we running for your jewels\n start_ms: 28400\n end_ms: 30580\n- text: Steady gunning, keep on busting at them fools, you know the rules\n start_ms: 30580\n end_ms: 33370\n- text: Lil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n start_ms: 33370\n end_ms: 35420\n- text: Cut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n start_ms: 35420\n end_ms: 38530\n- text: Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's\n start_ms: 38530\n end_ms: 40520\n- text: Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace\n start_ms: 40520\n end_ms: 43410\n- text: I'll let them niggas know it's on for life\n start_ms: 43410\n end_ms: 45490\n- text: Don't let the Westside ride tonight, ha-ha\n start_ms: 45490\n end_ms: 48210\n- text: Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n start_ms: 48210\n end_ms: 50630\n- text: Fuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n start_ms: 50630\n end_ms: 53070\n- text: See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 53070\n end_ms: 56150\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 56150\n end_ms: 58820\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 58820\n end_ms: 60720\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace (uh)\n start_ms: 60720\n end_ms: 62780\n- text: Nigga, I hit 'em up\n start_ms: 62780\n end_ms: 63990\n- text: Check this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is\n start_ms: 63990\n end_ms: 66000\n- text: I don't even know why I'm on this track\n start_ms: 66000\n end_ms: 67630\n- text: Y'all niggas ain't even on my level\n start_ms: 67630\n end_ms: 69060\n- text: I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it!\n start_ms: 69060\n end_ms: 73060\n- text: Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo\n start_ms: 73060\n end_ms: 76090\n- text: Biggie Smalls just got dropped\n start_ms: 76090\n end_ms: 77720\n- text: Little Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back\n start_ms: 77720\n end_ms: 80890\n- text: Frank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps\n start_ms: 80890\n end_ms: 83280\n- text: Little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya\n start_ms: 83280\n end_ms: 86160\n- text: Poisonous gats attack when I'm serving ya\n start_ms: 86160\n end_ms: 88430\n- text: Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n start_ms: 88430\n end_ms: 91130\n- text: Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint\n start_ms: 91130\n end_ms: 93540\n- text: Puffy weaker than the fucking block I'm running through, nigga\n start_ms: 93540\n end_ms: 96070\n- text: And I'm smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga\n start_ms: 96070\n end_ms: 98550\n- text: With the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n start_ms: 98550\n end_ms: 101290\n- text: Your clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 101290\n end_ms: 104080\n- text: Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 104080\n end_ms: 106730\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 106730\n end_ms: 109160\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 109160\n end_ms: 111100\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 111100\n end_ms: 113170\n- text: Nigga, we hit 'em up\n start_ms: 113170\n end_ms: 113980\n- text: Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n start_ms: 113980\n end_ms: 116710\n- text: This ain't no freestyle battle\n start_ms: 116710\n end_ms: 117770\n- text: All you niggas getting killed with your mouths open\n start_ms: 117770\n end_ms: 120500\n- text: Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping\n start_ms: 120500\n end_ms: 123150\n- text: Smoking dope, it's like a sherm high\n start_ms: 123150\n end_ms: 124640\n- text: Niggas think they learned to fly\n start_ms: 124640\n end_ms: 126150\n- text: But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die\n start_ms: 126150\n end_ms: 128770\n- text: Talking about you getting money, but it's funny to me\n start_ms: 128770\n end_ms: 131270\n- text: All you niggas living bummy while you fucking with me\n start_ms: 131270\n end_ms: 133540\n- text: I'm a self-made millionaire\n start_ms: 133540\n end_ms: 135480\n- text: Thug living, out of prison, pistols in the air, ha-ha\n start_ms: 135480\n end_ms: 138680\n- text: Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n start_ms: 138680\n end_ms: 141280\n- text: And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n start_ms: 141280\n end_ms: 143930\n- text: Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n start_ms: 143930\n end_ms: 146330\n- text: Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n start_ms: 146330\n end_ms: 148880\n- text: Now I'm back to set the record straight\n start_ms: 148880\n end_ms: 150760\n- text: With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n start_ms: 150760\n end_ms: 153020\n- text: Motherfucker, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 153020\n end_ms: 154070\n- text: I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n start_ms: 154070\n end_ms: 156820\n- text: No points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs\n start_ms: 156820\n end_ms: 159170\n- text: Now go check the scenario, Lil Cease\n start_ms: 159170\n end_ms: 161000\n- text: I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, copping pleas in de Janeiro\n start_ms: 161000\n end_ms: 164170\n- text: Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n start_ms: 164170\n end_ms: 166330\n- text: Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up\n start_ms: 166330\n end_ms: 168460\n- text: What the fuck? Is you stupid?\n start_ms: 168460\n end_ms: 169860\n- text: I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n start_ms: 169860\n end_ms: 172110\n- text: With my clique looting, shooting and polluting your block\n start_ms: 172110\n end_ms: 174690\n- text: With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n start_ms: 174690\n end_ms: 176730\n- text: Outlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch\n start_ms: 176730\n end_ms: 179320\n- text: And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n start_ms: 179320\n end_ms: 181670\n- text: All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n start_ms: 181670\n end_ms: 184220\n- text: You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n start_ms: 184220\n end_ms: 187030\n- text: I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit, but a faker\n start_ms: 187030\n end_ms: 189540\n- text: Softer than Alizé with a chaser\n start_ms: 189540\n end_ms: 191230\n- text: About to get murdered for the paper\n start_ms: 191230\n end_ms: 193090\n- text: E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n start_ms: 193090\n end_ms: 195390\n- text: Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n start_ms: 195390\n end_ms: 197590\n- text: Gun toting smoke, we ain't no motherfucking joke\n start_ms: 197590\n end_ms: 199960\n- text: Thug Life, niggas better be knowing\n start_ms: 199960\n end_ms: 201860\n- text: We approaching in the wide open, gun smoking\n start_ms: 201860\n end_ms: 204230\n- text: No need for hoping, it's a battle lost\n start_ms: 204230\n end_ms: 206240\n- text: I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off\n start_ms: 206240\n end_ms: 208940\n- text: Nigga, I hit 'em up\n start_ms: 208940\n end_ms: 210920\n- text: Now you tell me who won\n start_ms: 210920\n end_ms: 212470\n- text: I see them, they run, hahahaha\n start_ms: 212470\n end_ms: 214780\n- text: They don't wanna see us\n start_ms: 214780\n end_ms: 216200\n- text: Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up tryna be us\n start_ms: 216200\n end_ms: 219240\n- text: How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job?\n start_ms: 219240\n end_ms: 221300\n- text: We millionaires\n start_ms: 221300\n end_ms: 222570\n- text: Killing ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it\n start_ms: 222570\n end_ms: 224560\n- text: Oh-yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us?\n start_ms: 224560\n end_ms: 227270\n- text: You little young-ass motherfuckers\n start_ms: 227270\n end_ms: 228970\n- text: Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something?\n start_ms: 228970\n end_ms: 231130\n- text: You're fucking with me, nigga\n start_ms: 231130\n end_ms: 231900\n- text: You fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack\n start_ms: 231900\n end_ms: 233830\n- text: You better back the fuck up, 'fore you get smacked the fuck up\n start_ms: 233830\n end_ms: 236400\n- text: This is how we do it on our side\n start_ms: 236400\n end_ms: 238120\n- text: Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it\n start_ms: 238120\n end_ms: 240230\n- text: But we ain't singing, we bringing drama\n start_ms: 240230\n end_ms: 242340\n- text: Fuck you and yo' motherfucking mama!\n start_ms: 242340\n end_ms: 244340\n- text: We gon' kill all you motherfuckers!\n start_ms: 244340\n end_ms: 246110\n- text: Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie\n start_ms: 246110\n end_ms: 248460\n- text: Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfucking opinion\n start_ms: 248460\n end_ms: 251280\n- text: Well, this is how we gonna do this, fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!\n start_ms: 251280\n end_ms: 255060\n- text: Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfucking crew\n start_ms: 255060\n end_ms: 258790\n- text: And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too\n start_ms: 258790\n end_ms: 261870\n- text: Chino XL, fuck you too\n start_ms: 261870\n end_ms: 264150\n- text: All you motherfuckers, fuck you too\n start_ms: 264150\n end_ms: 266380\n- text: (Take money, take money)\n start_ms: 266380\n end_ms: 269140\n- text: All of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow motherfucker\n start_ms: 269140\n end_ms: 272020\n- text: My .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!\n start_ms: 272020\n end_ms: 274820\n- text: You motherfuckers can't be us or see us\n start_ms: 274820\n end_ms: 277190\n- text: We motherfucking Thug Life ridas, Westside 'til we die!\n start_ms: 277190\n end_ms: 280570\n- text: Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya\n start_ms: 280570\n end_ms: 282640\n- text: We'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!\n start_ms: 282640\n end_ms: 285560\n- text: You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfucking mob!\n start_ms: 285560\n end_ms: 287850\n- text: Ain't nothing but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us\n start_ms: 287850\n end_ms: 291240\n- text: Our shit goes triple and four-quadruple\n start_ms: 291240\n end_ms: 295700\n- text: You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns in they motherfuckers belts\n start_ms: 295700\n end_ms: 299560\n- text: You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt\n start_ms: 299560\n end_ms: 301710\n- text: You niggas can't feel it, we the realest\n start_ms: 301710\n end_ms: 303770\n- text: Fuck 'em! We Bad Boy killas\n start_ms: 303770\n end_ms: 305060\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 305060\nplain: |-\n Sucka-ass, I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends\n That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker\n (Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas\n (Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is\n (Take money) niggas, we bring it too\n That's 'ight, ha-ha\n (Take money) ha-ha\n\n First off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claim\n Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n You claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife\n We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life\n\n Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n We keep on coming while we running for your jewels\n Steady gunning, keep on busting at them fools, you know the rules\n\n Lil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n Cut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's\n Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace\n\n I'll let them niggas know it's on for life\n Don't let the Westside ride tonight, ha-ha\n Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n Fuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\n See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace (uh)\n Nigga, I hit 'em up\n\n Check this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is\n I don't even know why I'm on this track\n Y'all niggas ain't even on my level\n I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it!\n\n Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo\n Biggie Smalls just got dropped\n Little Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back\n Frank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps\n\n Little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya\n Poisonous gats attack when I'm serving ya\n Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint\n\n Puffy weaker than the fucking block I'm running through, nigga\n And I'm smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga\n With the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n Your clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\n Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, we hit 'em up\n\n Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n This ain't no freestyle battle\n All you niggas getting killed with your mouths open\n Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping\n Smoking dope, it's like a sherm high\n Niggas think they learned to fly\n But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die\n Talking about you getting money, but it's funny to me\n All you niggas living bummy while you fucking with me\n\n I'm a self-made millionaire\n Thug living, out of prison, pistols in the air, ha-ha\n Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n Now I'm back to set the record straight\n With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n Motherfucker, I hit 'em up!\n\n I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n No points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs\n Now go check the scenario, Lil Cease\n I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, copping pleas in de Janeiro\n\n Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up\n What the fuck? Is you stupid?\n I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n With my clique looting, shooting and polluting your block\n\n With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n Outlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch\n And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\n You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit, but a faker\n Softer than Alizé with a chaser\n About to get murdered for the paper\n E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n\n Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n Gun toting smoke, we ain't no motherfucking joke\n Thug Life, niggas better be knowing\n We approaching in the wide open, gun smoking\n No need for hoping, it's a battle lost\n I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off\n Nigga, I hit 'em up\n\n Now you tell me who won\n I see them, they run, hahahaha\n They don't wanna see us\n Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up tryna be us\n How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job?\n We millionaires\n Killing ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it\n\n Oh-yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us?\n You little young-ass motherfuckers\n Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something?\n You're fucking with me, nigga\n You fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack\n You better back the fuck up, 'fore you get smacked the fuck up\n This is how we do it on our side\n\n Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it\n But we ain't singing, we bringing drama\n Fuck you and yo' motherfucking mama!\n We gon' kill all you motherfuckers!\n Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie\n Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfucking opinion\n\n Well, this is how we gonna do this, fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!\n Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfucking crew\n And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too\n Chino XL, fuck you too\n All you motherfuckers, fuck you too\n (Take money, take money)\n\n All of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow motherfucker\n My .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!\n You motherfuckers can't be us or see us\n We motherfucking Thug Life ridas, Westside 'til we die!\n Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya\n We'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!\n\n You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfucking mob!\n Ain't nothing but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us\n Our shit goes triple and four-quadruple\n You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns in they motherfuckers belts\n You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt\n You niggas can't feel it, we the realest\n Fuck 'em! We Bad Boy killas\n"},{"id":20285220,"name":"Hit 'Em Up","trackName":"Hit 'Em Up","artistName":"2Pac","albumName":"2Pac","duration":313.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\nYeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\nHey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n(I think they do)\n\nWhen this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\nI want all the West Coast people to give up some love\nWhen this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\nThey tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\nThey don't wanna play my song\nBut they wanna play fat boy over here\nWhat? Come on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (What's up)\n\nFirst off, f- and the clique you claim\nWestside when we ride, come equipped with game\nYou claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\nWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\nPlus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\nBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\nWe keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\nSteady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\nLil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\nCut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\nLil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\nQuick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\nI'll let them n- know it's on for life\nDon't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\nBad Boy murdered on wax and killed\nF- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\nSee, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nN-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\nCheck this out\nWest Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\nGet out the way yo, get out the way yo\nBiggie Smalls just got shot\nLittle Moo', pass the MAC\nAnd let me hit him in his back\n\nFrank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\nLittle accident murderer\nAnd I ain't never heard of ya\nPoisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\nSpank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\nGuard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\nP- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\nAnd I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\nWith the ready power\nTucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\nI push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\nWhen you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, say what?\n\nPeep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\nThis ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\nWith your mouths open\nTryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\nSmokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\nN- think they learned to fly\nBut they burn, you deserve to die\nTalkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\nAll you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\nI'm a self-made millionaire\nThug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\nBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\nAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\nNow it's all about Versace, you copied my style\nFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\nNow I'm back to set the record straight\n\nWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\nI'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\nNo points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\nNow go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\nI'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\nLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\nGet your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\nWhat the, is you stupid\nI take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\nWith my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\nWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\nOutlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\nAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\nAll your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\nYou's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\nI'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\nSofter than Alize with a chaser\nAbout to get murdered for the paper\n\nE.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\nLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\nGun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\nBetter be knowin'\nWe approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\nNo need for hopin', it's a battle lost\nI got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\nI hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\nWe hit 'em up\nGrab your glocks when you see Tupac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nHit 'em up, that's right!\n\n(Take money, take money)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Hit 'Em Up\n artist: 2Pac\n album: 2Pac\n duration_ms: 313000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n (I think they do)\n\n When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\n They don't wanna play my song\n But they wanna play fat boy over here\n What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (What's up)\n\n First off, f- and the clique you claim\n Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\n Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\n Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\n I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\n See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\n Check this out\n West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\n Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n Biggie Smalls just got shot\n Little Moo', pass the MAC\n And let me hit him in his back\n\n Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n Little accident murderer\n And I ain't never heard of ya\n Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\n Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\n With the ready power\n Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\n When you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, say what?\n\n Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n With your mouths open\n Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\n Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n N- think they learned to fly\n But they burn, you deserve to die\n Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\n All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n I'm a self-made millionaire\n Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\n And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n Now I'm back to set the record straight\n\n With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\n I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\n Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n What the, is you stupid\n I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\n With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\n You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n Softer than Alize with a chaser\n About to get murdered for the paper\n\n E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n Better be knowin'\n We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\n No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n We hit 'em up\n Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Hit 'em up, that's right!\n\n (Take money, take money)\n"},{"id":18611504,"name":"Hit Em Up","trackName":"Hit Em Up","artistName":"2Pac","albumName":"2Pac","duration":315.916875,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\nYeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\nHey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n(I think they do)\n\nWhen this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\nI want all the West Coast people to give up some love\nWhen this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\nThey tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\nThey don't wanna play my song\nBut they wanna play fat boy over here\nWhat? Come on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (What's up)\n\nFirst off, f- and the clique you claim\nWestside when we ride, come equipped with game\nYou claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\nWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\nPlus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\nBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\nWe keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\nSteady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\nLil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\nCut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\nLil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\nQuick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\nI'll let them n- know it's on for life\nDon't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\nBad Boy murdered on wax and killed\nF- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\nSee, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nN-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\nCheck this out\nWest Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\nGet out the way yo, get out the way yo\nBiggie Smalls just got shot\nLittle Moo', pass the MAC\nAnd let me hit him in his back\n\nFrank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\nLittle accident murderer\nAnd I ain't never heard of ya\nPoisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\nSpank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\nGuard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\nP- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\nAnd I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\nWith the ready power\nTucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\nI push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\nWhen you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, say what?\n\nPeep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\nThis ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\nWith your mouths open\nTryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\nSmokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\nN- think they learned to fly\nBut they burn, you deserve to die\nTalkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\nAll you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\nI'm a self-made millionaire\nThug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\nBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\nAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\nNow it's all about Versace, you copied my style\nFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\nNow I'm back to set the record straight\n\nWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\nI'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\nNo points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\nNow go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\nI'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\nLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\nGet your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\nWhat the, is you stupid\nI take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\nWith my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\nWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\nOutlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\nAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\nAll your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\nYou's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\nI'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\nSofter than Alize with a chaser\nAbout to get murdered for the paper\n\nE.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\nLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\nGun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\nBetter be knowin'\nWe approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\nNo need for hopin', it's a battle lost\nI got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\nI hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\nWe hit 'em up\nGrab your glocks when you see Tupac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nHit 'em up, that's right!\n\n(Take money, take money)","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.06] We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n[00:02.66] Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n[00:03.35] Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n[00:04.52] (I think they do)\n[00:05.47] When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n[00:06.12] I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n[00:07.19] When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n[00:08.44] They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n[00:09.52] They don't wanna play my song\n[00:10.37] But they wanna play fat boy over here\n[00:11.19] What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:11.90] Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:12.71] Come on, come on (What's up)\n[00:13.42] First off, f- and the clique you claim\n[00:15.52] Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n[00:18.20] You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n[00:20.89] We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n[00:23.16] Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n[00:25.06] Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n[00:28.64] We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n[00:31.11] Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n[00:33.57] Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n[00:36.01] Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n[00:38.32] Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n[00:41.04] Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n[00:43.34] I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n[00:45.81] Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n[00:47.95] Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n[00:50.98] F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n[00:53.63] See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[00:56.16] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[00:58.75] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:01.09] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:03.52] N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n[01:06.56] Check this out\n[01:12.37] West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n[01:14.65] Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n[01:16.36] Biggie Smalls just got shot\n[01:18.30] Little Moo', pass the MAC\n[01:19.87] And let me hit him in his back\n[01:21.43] Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n[01:23.50] Little accident murderer\n[01:25.27] And I ain't never heard of ya\n[01:26.75] Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n[01:28.22] Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n[01:31.40] Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n[01:33.85] P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n[01:36.31] And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n[01:38.87] With the ready power\n[01:41.41] Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n[01:43.96] I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n[01:46.78] When you see 2Pac\n[01:48.29] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[01:49.47] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:51.20] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:53.93] Nigga, say what?\n[01:55.01] Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n[01:56.81] This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n[01:59.38] With your mouths open\n[02:01.00] Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n[02:02.45] Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n[02:04.65] N- think they learned to fly\n[02:06.55] But they burn, you deserve to die\n[02:08.95] Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n[02:11.58] All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n[02:14.42] I'm a self-made millionaire\n[02:15.82] Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n[02:18.53] Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n[02:21.58] And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n[02:24.03] Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n[02:26.90] Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n[02:28.72] Now I'm back to set the record straight\n[02:31.23] With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n[02:33.68] I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n[02:36.07] No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n[02:38.25] Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n[02:40.09] I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n[02:42.83] Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n[02:47.07] Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n[02:49.46] What the, is you stupid\n[02:50.55] I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n[02:52.43] With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n[02:54.75] With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n[02:57.54] Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n[03:01.00] And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n[03:02.86] All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n[03:04.77] You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n[03:06.41] I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n[03:07.88] Softer than Alize with a chaser\n[03:10.05] About to get murdered for the paper\n[03:13.51] E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n[03:15.73] Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n[03:18.61] Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n[03:21.77] Better be knowin'\n[03:23.29] We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n[03:24.49] No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n[03:26.19] I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n[03:28.62] I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n[03:30.53] We hit 'em up\n[03:32.58] Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n[03:34.55] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[03:37.64] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[03:39.50] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[03:41.29] Hit 'em up, that's right!\n[03:43.42] (Take money, take money)\n[03:46.88] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Hit Em Up\n artist: 2Pac\n album: 2Pac\n duration_ms: 315917\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n start_ms: 2060\n end_ms: 2660\n- text: Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n start_ms: 2660\n end_ms: 3350\n- text: Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n start_ms: 3350\n end_ms: 4520\n- text: (I think they do)\n start_ms: 4520\n end_ms: 5470\n- text: When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n start_ms: 5470\n end_ms: 6120\n- text: I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n start_ms: 6120\n end_ms: 7190\n- text: When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n start_ms: 7190\n end_ms: 8440\n- text: They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n start_ms: 8440\n end_ms: 9520\n- text: They don't wanna play my song\n start_ms: 9520\n end_ms: 10370\n- text: But they wanna play fat boy over here\n start_ms: 10370\n end_ms: 11190\n- text: What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 11190\n end_ms: 11900\n- text: Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 11900\n end_ms: 12710\n- text: Come on, come on (What's up)\n start_ms: 12710\n end_ms: 13420\n- text: First off, f- and the clique you claim\n start_ms: 13420\n end_ms: 15520\n- text: Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n start_ms: 15520\n end_ms: 18200\n- text: You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n start_ms: 18200\n end_ms: 20890\n- text: We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n start_ms: 20890\n end_ms: 23160\n- text: Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n start_ms: 23160\n end_ms: 25060\n- text: Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n start_ms: 25060\n end_ms: 28640\n- text: We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n start_ms: 28640\n end_ms: 31110\n- text: Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n start_ms: 31110\n end_ms: 33570\n- text: Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n start_ms: 33570\n end_ms: 36010\n- text: Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n start_ms: 36010\n end_ms: 38320\n- text: Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n start_ms: 38320\n end_ms: 41040\n- text: Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n start_ms: 41040\n end_ms: 43340\n- text: I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n start_ms: 43340\n end_ms: 45810\n- text: Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n start_ms: 45810\n end_ms: 47950\n- text: Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n start_ms: 47950\n end_ms: 50980\n- text: F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n start_ms: 50980\n end_ms: 53630\n- text: See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 53630\n end_ms: 56160\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 56160\n end_ms: 58750\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 58750\n end_ms: 61090\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 61090\n end_ms: 63520\n- text: N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n start_ms: 63520\n end_ms: 66560\n- text: Check this out\n start_ms: 66560\n end_ms: 72370\n- text: West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n start_ms: 72370\n end_ms: 74650\n- text: Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n start_ms: 74650\n end_ms: 76360\n- text: Biggie Smalls just got shot\n start_ms: 76360\n end_ms: 78300\n- text: Little Moo', pass the MAC\n start_ms: 78300\n end_ms: 79870\n- text: And let me hit him in his back\n start_ms: 79870\n end_ms: 81430\n- text: Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n start_ms: 81430\n end_ms: 83500\n- text: Little accident murderer\n start_ms: 83500\n end_ms: 85270\n- text: And I ain't never heard of ya\n start_ms: 85270\n end_ms: 86750\n- text: Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n start_ms: 86750\n end_ms: 88220\n- text: Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n start_ms: 88220\n end_ms: 91400\n- text: Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n start_ms: 91400\n end_ms: 93850\n- text: P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n start_ms: 93850\n end_ms: 96310\n- text: And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n start_ms: 96310\n end_ms: 98870\n- text: With the ready power\n start_ms: 98870\n end_ms: 101410\n- text: Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n start_ms: 101410\n end_ms: 103960\n- text: I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 103960\n end_ms: 106780\n- text: When you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 106780\n end_ms: 108290\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 108290\n end_ms: 109470\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 109470\n end_ms: 111200\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 111200\n end_ms: 113930\n- text: Nigga, say what?\n start_ms: 113930\n end_ms: 115010\n- text: Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n start_ms: 115010\n end_ms: 116810\n- text: This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n start_ms: 116810\n end_ms: 119380\n- text: With your mouths open\n start_ms: 119380\n end_ms: 121000\n- text: Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n start_ms: 121000\n end_ms: 122450\n- text: Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n start_ms: 122450\n end_ms: 124650\n- text: N- think they learned to fly\n start_ms: 124650\n end_ms: 126550\n- text: But they burn, you deserve to die\n start_ms: 126550\n end_ms: 128950\n- text: Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n start_ms: 128950\n end_ms: 131580\n- text: All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n start_ms: 131580\n end_ms: 134420\n- text: I'm a self-made millionaire\n start_ms: 134420\n end_ms: 135820\n- text: Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n start_ms: 135820\n end_ms: 138530\n- text: Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n start_ms: 138530\n end_ms: 141580\n- text: And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n start_ms: 141580\n end_ms: 144030\n- text: Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n start_ms: 144030\n end_ms: 146900\n- text: Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n start_ms: 146900\n end_ms: 148720\n- text: Now I'm back to set the record straight\n start_ms: 148720\n end_ms: 151230\n- text: With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n start_ms: 151230\n end_ms: 153680\n- text: I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n start_ms: 153680\n end_ms: 156070\n- text: No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n start_ms: 156070\n end_ms: 158250\n- text: 'Now go check the scenario: Lil'' Cease'\n start_ms: 158250\n end_ms: 160090\n- text: I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n start_ms: 160090\n end_ms: 162830\n- text: Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n start_ms: 162830\n end_ms: 167070\n- text: Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n start_ms: 167070\n end_ms: 169460\n- text: What the, is you stupid\n start_ms: 169460\n end_ms: 170550\n- text: I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n start_ms: 170550\n end_ms: 172430\n- text: With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n start_ms: 172430\n end_ms: 174750\n- text: With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n start_ms: 174750\n end_ms: 177540\n- text: Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n start_ms: 177540\n end_ms: 181000\n- text: And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n start_ms: 181000\n end_ms: 182860\n- text: All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n start_ms: 182860\n end_ms: 184770\n- text: You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n start_ms: 184770\n end_ms: 186410\n- text: I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n start_ms: 186410\n end_ms: 187880\n- text: Softer than Alize with a chaser\n start_ms: 187880\n end_ms: 190050\n- text: About to get murdered for the paper\n start_ms: 190050\n end_ms: 193510\n- text: E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n start_ms: 193510\n end_ms: 195730\n- text: Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n start_ms: 195730\n end_ms: 198610\n- text: Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n start_ms: 198610\n end_ms: 201770\n- text: Better be knowin'\n start_ms: 201770\n end_ms: 203290\n- text: We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n start_ms: 203290\n end_ms: 204490\n- text: No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n start_ms: 204490\n end_ms: 206190\n- text: I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n start_ms: 206190\n end_ms: 208620\n- text: I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n start_ms: 208620\n end_ms: 210530\n- text: We hit 'em up\n start_ms: 210530\n end_ms: 212580\n- text: Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n start_ms: 212580\n end_ms: 214550\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 214550\n end_ms: 217640\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 217640\n end_ms: 219500\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 219500\n end_ms: 221290\n- text: Hit 'em up, that's right!\n start_ms: 221290\n end_ms: 223420\n- text: (Take money, take money)\n start_ms: 223420\n end_ms: 226880\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 226880\nplain: |-\n We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n (I think they do)\n\n When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\n They don't wanna play my song\n But they wanna play fat boy over here\n What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (What's up)\n\n First off, f- and the clique you claim\n Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\n Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\n Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\n I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\n See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\n Check this out\n West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\n Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n Biggie Smalls just got shot\n Little Moo', pass the MAC\n And let me hit him in his back\n\n Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n Little accident murderer\n And I ain't never heard of ya\n Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\n Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\n With the ready power\n Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\n When you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, say what?\n\n Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n With your mouths open\n Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\n Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n N- think they learned to fly\n But they burn, you deserve to die\n Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\n All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n I'm a self-made millionaire\n Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\n And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n Now I'm back to set the record straight\n\n With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\n I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\n Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n What the, is you stupid\n I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\n With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\n You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n Softer than Alize with a chaser\n About to get murdered for the paper\n\n E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n Better be knowin'\n We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\n No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n We hit 'em up\n Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Hit 'em up, that's right!\n\n (Take money, take money)\n"},{"id":36933424,"name":"Hit 'Em Up","trackName":"Hit 'Em Up","artistName":"2Pac","albumName":"2Pac","duration":304.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\nYeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\nHey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n(I think they do)\n\nWhen this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\nI want all the West Coast people to give up some love\nWhen this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\nThey tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\nThey don't wanna play my song\nBut they wanna play fat boy over here\nWhat? Come on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (What's up)\n\nFirst off, f- and the clique you claim\nWestside when we ride, come equipped with game\nYou claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\nWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\nPlus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\nBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\nWe keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\nSteady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\nLil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\nCut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\nLil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\nQuick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\nI'll let them n- know it's on for life\nDon't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\nBad Boy murdered on wax and killed\nF- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\nSee, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nN-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\nCheck this out\nWest Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\nGet out the way yo, get out the way yo\nBiggie Smalls just got shot\nLittle Moo', pass the MAC\nAnd let me hit him in his back\n\nFrank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\nLittle accident murderer\nAnd I ain't never heard of ya\nPoisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\nSpank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\nGuard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\nP- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\nAnd I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\nWith the ready power\nTucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\nI push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\nWhen you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, say what?\n\nPeep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\nThis ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\nWith your mouths open\nTryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\nSmokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\nN- think they learned to fly\nBut they burn, you deserve to die\nTalkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\nAll you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\nI'm a self-made millionaire\nThug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\nBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\nAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\nNow it's all about Versace, you copied my style\nFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\nNow I'm back to set the record straight\n\nWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\nI'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\nNo points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\nNow go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\nI'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\nLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\nGet your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\nWhat the, is you stupid\nI take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\nWith my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\nWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\nOutlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\nAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\nAll your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\nYou's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\nI'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\nSofter than Alize with a chaser\nAbout to get murdered for the paper\n\nE.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\nLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\nGun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\nBetter be knowin'\nWe approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\nNo need for hopin', it's a battle lost\nI got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\nI hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\nWe hit 'em up\nGrab your glocks when you see Tupac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nHit 'em up, that's right!\n\n(Take money, take money)","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.37] We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n[00:05.58] Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n[00:13.35] Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n[00:18.38] (I think they do)\n[00:19.67] When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n[00:22.08] I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n[00:23.83] When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n[00:25.23] They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n[00:28.48] They don't wanna play my song\n[00:30.36] But they wanna play fat boy over here\n[00:33.13] What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:35.68] Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:37.93] Come on, come on (What's up)\n[00:41.17] First off, f- and the clique you claim\n[00:43.30] Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n[00:46.17] You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n[00:48.64] We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n[00:51.37] Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n[00:53.96] Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n[00:57.01] We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n[00:58.90] Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n[01:01.83] Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n[01:04.63] Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n[01:06.77] Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n[01:08.93] Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n[01:11.94] I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n[01:14.04] Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n[01:17.03] Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n[01:18.89] F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n[01:22.10] See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[01:24.29] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[01:26.97] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:29.17] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:31.33] N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n[01:34.54] Check this out\n[01:37.54] West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n[01:42.43] Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n[01:44.08] Biggie Smalls just got shot\n[01:46.68] Little Moo', pass the MAC\n[01:48.11] And let me hit him in his back\n[01:49.85] Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n[01:52.01] Little accident murderer\n[01:53.98] And I ain't never heard of ya\n[01:55.16] Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n[01:57.07] Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n[01:59.67] Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n[02:01.53] P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n[02:05.60] And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n[02:07.53] With the ready power\n[02:09.01] Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n[02:10.23] I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n[02:12.53] When you see 2Pac\n[02:14.65] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[02:17.44] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[02:19.51] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[02:20.76] Nigga, say what?\n[02:22.79] Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n[02:25.57] This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n[02:27.79] With your mouths open\n[02:29.17] Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n[02:31.75] Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n[02:33.58] N- think they learned to fly\n[02:34.84] But they burn, you deserve to die\n[02:36.32] Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n[02:39.32] All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n[02:41.78] I'm a self-made millionaire\n[02:43.57] Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n[02:45.74] Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n[02:50.16] And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n[02:52.05] Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n[02:54.75] Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n[02:57.20] Now I'm back to set the record straight\n[02:59.47] With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n[03:02.12] I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n[03:05.48] No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n[03:07.63] Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n[03:09.89] I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n[03:12.71] Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n[03:15.64] Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n[03:17.73] What the, is you stupid\n[03:19.12] I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n[03:21.56] With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n[03:23.46] With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n[03:25.56] Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n[03:27.51] And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n[03:29.97] All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n[03:32.73] You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n[03:35.20] I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n[03:38.03] Softer than Alize with a chaser\n[03:40.13] About to get murdered for the paper\n[03:41.78] E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n[03:43.89] Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n[03:46.01] Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n[03:47.92] Better be knowin'\n[03:50.43] We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n[03:52.33] No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n[03:54.41] I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n[03:57.10] I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n[04:02.66] We hit 'em up\n[04:03.87] Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n[04:05.85] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[04:08.12] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[04:10.48] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[04:12.91] Hit 'em up, that's right!\n[04:14.53] (Take money, take money)\n[04:15.54] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Hit 'Em Up\n artist: 2Pac\n album: 2Pac\n duration_ms: 304000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n start_ms: 1370\n end_ms: 5580\n- text: Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n start_ms: 5580\n end_ms: 13350\n- text: Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n start_ms: 13350\n end_ms: 18380\n- text: (I think they do)\n start_ms: 18380\n end_ms: 19670\n- text: When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n start_ms: 19670\n end_ms: 22080\n- text: I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n start_ms: 22080\n end_ms: 23830\n- text: When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n start_ms: 23830\n end_ms: 25230\n- text: They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n start_ms: 25230\n end_ms: 28480\n- text: They don't wanna play my song\n start_ms: 28480\n end_ms: 30360\n- text: But they wanna play fat boy over here\n start_ms: 30360\n end_ms: 33130\n- text: What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 33130\n end_ms: 35680\n- text: Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 35680\n end_ms: 37930\n- text: Come on, come on (What's up)\n start_ms: 37930\n end_ms: 41170\n- text: First off, f- and the clique you claim\n start_ms: 41170\n end_ms: 43300\n- text: Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n start_ms: 43300\n end_ms: 46170\n- text: You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n start_ms: 46170\n end_ms: 48640\n- text: We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n start_ms: 48640\n end_ms: 51370\n- text: Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n start_ms: 51370\n end_ms: 53960\n- text: Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n start_ms: 53960\n end_ms: 57010\n- text: We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n start_ms: 57010\n end_ms: 58900\n- text: Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n start_ms: 58900\n end_ms: 61830\n- text: Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n start_ms: 61830\n end_ms: 64630\n- text: Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n start_ms: 64630\n end_ms: 66770\n- text: Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n start_ms: 66770\n end_ms: 68930\n- text: Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n start_ms: 68930\n end_ms: 71940\n- text: I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n start_ms: 71940\n end_ms: 74040\n- text: Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n start_ms: 74040\n end_ms: 77030\n- text: Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n start_ms: 77030\n end_ms: 78890\n- text: F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n start_ms: 78890\n end_ms: 82100\n- text: See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 82100\n end_ms: 84290\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 84290\n end_ms: 86970\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 86970\n end_ms: 89170\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 89170\n end_ms: 91330\n- text: N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n start_ms: 91330\n end_ms: 94540\n- text: Check this out\n start_ms: 94540\n end_ms: 97540\n- text: West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n start_ms: 97540\n end_ms: 102430\n- text: Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n start_ms: 102430\n end_ms: 104080\n- text: Biggie Smalls just got shot\n start_ms: 104080\n end_ms: 106680\n- text: Little Moo', pass the MAC\n start_ms: 106680\n end_ms: 108110\n- text: And let me hit him in his back\n start_ms: 108110\n end_ms: 109850\n- text: Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n start_ms: 109850\n end_ms: 112010\n- text: Little accident murderer\n start_ms: 112010\n end_ms: 113980\n- text: And I ain't never heard of ya\n start_ms: 113980\n end_ms: 115160\n- text: Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n start_ms: 115160\n end_ms: 117070\n- text: Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n start_ms: 117070\n end_ms: 119670\n- text: Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n start_ms: 119670\n end_ms: 121530\n- text: P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n start_ms: 121530\n end_ms: 125600\n- text: And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n start_ms: 125600\n end_ms: 127530\n- text: With the ready power\n start_ms: 127530\n end_ms: 129010\n- text: Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n start_ms: 129010\n end_ms: 130230\n- text: I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 130230\n end_ms: 132530\n- text: When you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 132530\n end_ms: 134650\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 134650\n end_ms: 137440\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 137440\n end_ms: 139510\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 139510\n end_ms: 140760\n- text: Nigga, say what?\n start_ms: 140760\n end_ms: 142790\n- text: Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n start_ms: 142790\n end_ms: 145570\n- text: This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n start_ms: 145570\n end_ms: 147790\n- text: With your mouths open\n start_ms: 147790\n end_ms: 149170\n- text: Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n start_ms: 149170\n end_ms: 151750\n- text: Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n start_ms: 151750\n end_ms: 153580\n- text: N- think they learned to fly\n start_ms: 153580\n end_ms: 154840\n- text: But they burn, you deserve to die\n start_ms: 154840\n end_ms: 156320\n- text: Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n start_ms: 156320\n end_ms: 159320\n- text: All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n start_ms: 159320\n end_ms: 161780\n- text: I'm a self-made millionaire\n start_ms: 161780\n end_ms: 163570\n- text: Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n start_ms: 163570\n end_ms: 165740\n- text: Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n start_ms: 165740\n end_ms: 170160\n- text: And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n start_ms: 170160\n end_ms: 172050\n- text: Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n start_ms: 172050\n end_ms: 174750\n- text: Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n start_ms: 174750\n end_ms: 177200\n- text: Now I'm back to set the record straight\n start_ms: 177200\n end_ms: 179470\n- text: With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n start_ms: 179470\n end_ms: 182120\n- text: I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n start_ms: 182120\n end_ms: 185480\n- text: No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n start_ms: 185480\n end_ms: 187630\n- text: 'Now go check the scenario: Lil'' Cease'\n start_ms: 187630\n end_ms: 189890\n- text: I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n start_ms: 189890\n end_ms: 192710\n- text: Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n start_ms: 192710\n end_ms: 195640\n- text: Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n start_ms: 195640\n end_ms: 197730\n- text: What the, is you stupid\n start_ms: 197730\n end_ms: 199120\n- text: I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n start_ms: 199120\n end_ms: 201560\n- text: With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n start_ms: 201560\n end_ms: 203460\n- text: With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n start_ms: 203460\n end_ms: 205560\n- text: Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n start_ms: 205560\n end_ms: 207510\n- text: And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n start_ms: 207510\n end_ms: 209970\n- text: All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n start_ms: 209970\n end_ms: 212730\n- text: You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n start_ms: 212730\n end_ms: 215200\n- text: I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n start_ms: 215200\n end_ms: 218030\n- text: Softer than Alize with a chaser\n start_ms: 218030\n end_ms: 220130\n- text: About to get murdered for the paper\n start_ms: 220130\n end_ms: 221780\n- text: E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n start_ms: 221780\n end_ms: 223890\n- text: Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n start_ms: 223890\n end_ms: 226010\n- text: Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n start_ms: 226010\n end_ms: 227920\n- text: Better be knowin'\n start_ms: 227920\n end_ms: 230430\n- text: We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n start_ms: 230430\n end_ms: 232330\n- text: No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n start_ms: 232330\n end_ms: 234410\n- text: I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n start_ms: 234410\n end_ms: 237100\n- text: I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n start_ms: 237100\n end_ms: 242660\n- text: We hit 'em up\n start_ms: 242660\n end_ms: 243870\n- text: Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n start_ms: 243870\n end_ms: 245850\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 245850\n end_ms: 248120\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 248120\n end_ms: 250480\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 250480\n end_ms: 252910\n- text: Hit 'em up, that's right!\n start_ms: 252910\n end_ms: 254530\n- text: (Take money, take money)\n start_ms: 254530\n end_ms: 255540\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 255540\nplain: |-\n We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n (I think they do)\n\n When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\n They don't wanna play my song\n But they wanna play fat boy over here\n What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (What's up)\n\n First off, f- and the clique you claim\n Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\n Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\n Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\n I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\n See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\n Check this out\n West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\n Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n Biggie Smalls just got shot\n Little Moo', pass the MAC\n And let me hit him in his back\n\n Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n Little accident murderer\n And I ain't never heard of ya\n Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\n Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\n With the ready power\n Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\n When you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, say what?\n\n Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n With your mouths open\n Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\n Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n N- think they learned to fly\n But they burn, you deserve to die\n Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\n All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n I'm a self-made millionaire\n Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\n And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n Now I'm back to set the record straight\n\n With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\n I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\n Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n What the, is you stupid\n I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\n With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\n You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n Softer than Alize with a chaser\n About to get murdered for the paper\n\n E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n Better be knowin'\n We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\n No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n We hit 'em up\n Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Hit 'em up, that's right!\n\n (Take money, take money)\n"},{"id":33890894,"name":"Hit Em Up","trackName":"Hit Em Up","artistName":"2Pac","albumName":"2Pac","duration":323.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\nYeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\nHey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n(I think they do)\n\nWhen this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\nI want all the West Coast people to give up some love\nWhen this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\nThey tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\nThey don't wanna play my song\nBut they wanna play fat boy over here\nWhat? Come on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (What's up)\n\nFirst off, f- and the clique you claim\nWestside when we ride, come equipped with game\nYou claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\nWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\nPlus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\nBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\nWe keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\nSteady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\nLil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\nCut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\nLil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\nQuick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\nI'll let them n- know it's on for life\nDon't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\nBad Boy murdered on wax and killed\nF- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\nSee, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nN-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\nCheck this out\nWest Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\nGet out the way yo, get out the way yo\nBiggie Smalls just got shot\nLittle Moo', pass the MAC\nAnd let me hit him in his back\n\nFrank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\nLittle accident murderer\nAnd I ain't never heard of ya\nPoisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\nSpank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\nGuard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\nP- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\nAnd I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\nWith the ready power\nTucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\nI push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\nWhen you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, say what?\n\nPeep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\nThis ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\nWith your mouths open\nTryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\nSmokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\nN- think they learned to fly\nBut they burn, you deserve to die\nTalkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\nAll you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\nI'm a self-made millionaire\nThug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\nBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\nAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\nNow it's all about Versace, you copied my style\nFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\nNow I'm back to set the record straight\n\nWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\nI'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\nNo points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\nNow go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\nI'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\nLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\nGet your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\nWhat the, is you stupid\nI take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\nWith my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\nWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\nOutlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\nAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\nAll your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\nYou's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\nI'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\nSofter than Alize with a chaser\nAbout to get murdered for the paper\n\nE.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\nLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\nGun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\nBetter be knowin'\nWe approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\nNo need for hopin', it's a battle lost\nI got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\nI hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\nWe hit 'em up\nGrab your glocks when you see Tupac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nHit 'em up, that's right!\n\n(Take money, take money)","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.37] We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n[00:05.58] Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n[00:13.35] Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n[00:18.38] (I think they do)\n[00:19.67] When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n[00:22.08] I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n[00:23.83] When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n[00:25.23] They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n[00:28.48] They don't wanna play my song\n[00:30.36] But they wanna play fat boy over here\n[00:33.13] What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:35.68] Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:37.93] Come on, come on (What's up)\n[00:41.17] First off, f- and the clique you claim\n[00:43.30] Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n[00:46.17] You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n[00:48.64] We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n[00:51.37] Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n[00:53.96] Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n[00:57.01] We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n[00:58.90] Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n[01:01.83] Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n[01:04.63] Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n[01:06.77] Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n[01:08.93] Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n[01:11.94] I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n[01:14.04] Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n[01:17.03] Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n[01:18.89] F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n[01:22.10] See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[01:24.29] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[01:26.97] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:29.17] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:31.33] N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n[01:34.54] Check this out\n[01:37.54] West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n[01:42.43] Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n[01:44.08] Biggie Smalls just got shot\n[01:46.68] Little Moo', pass the MAC\n[01:48.11] And let me hit him in his back\n[01:49.85] Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n[01:52.01] Little accident murderer\n[01:53.98] And I ain't never heard of ya\n[01:55.16] Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n[01:57.07] Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n[01:59.67] Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n[02:01.53] P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n[02:05.60] And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n[02:07.53] With the ready power\n[02:09.01] Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n[02:10.23] I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n[02:12.53] When you see 2Pac\n[02:14.65] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[02:17.44] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[02:19.51] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[02:20.76] Nigga, say what?\n[02:22.79] Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n[02:25.57] This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n[02:27.79] With your mouths open\n[02:29.17] Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n[02:31.75] Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n[02:33.58] N- think they learned to fly\n[02:34.84] But they burn, you deserve to die\n[02:36.32] Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n[02:39.32] All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n[02:41.78] I'm a self-made millionaire\n[02:43.57] Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n[02:45.74] Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n[02:50.16] And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n[02:52.05] Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n[02:54.75] Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n[02:57.20] Now I'm back to set the record straight\n[02:59.47] With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n[03:02.12] I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n[03:05.48] No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n[03:07.63] Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n[03:09.89] I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n[03:12.71] Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n[03:15.64] Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n[03:17.73] What the, is you stupid\n[03:19.12] I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n[03:21.56] With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n[03:23.46] With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n[03:25.56] Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n[03:27.51] And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n[03:29.97] All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n[03:32.73] You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n[03:35.20] I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n[03:38.03] Softer than Alize with a chaser\n[03:40.13] About to get murdered for the paper\n[03:41.78] E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n[03:43.89] Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n[03:46.01] Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n[03:47.92] Better be knowin'\n[03:50.43] We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n[03:52.33] No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n[03:54.41] I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n[03:57.10] I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n[04:02.66] We hit 'em up\n[04:03.87] Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n[04:05.85] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[04:08.12] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[04:10.48] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[04:12.91] Hit 'em up, that's right!\n[04:14.53] (Take money, take money)\n[04:15.54] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Hit Em Up\n artist: 2Pac\n album: 2Pac\n duration_ms: 323000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n start_ms: 1370\n end_ms: 5580\n- text: Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n start_ms: 5580\n end_ms: 13350\n- text: Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n start_ms: 13350\n end_ms: 18380\n- text: (I think they do)\n start_ms: 18380\n end_ms: 19670\n- text: When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n start_ms: 19670\n end_ms: 22080\n- text: I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n start_ms: 22080\n end_ms: 23830\n- text: When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n start_ms: 23830\n end_ms: 25230\n- text: They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n start_ms: 25230\n end_ms: 28480\n- text: They don't wanna play my song\n start_ms: 28480\n end_ms: 30360\n- text: But they wanna play fat boy over here\n start_ms: 30360\n end_ms: 33130\n- text: What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 33130\n end_ms: 35680\n- text: Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 35680\n end_ms: 37930\n- text: Come on, come on (What's up)\n start_ms: 37930\n end_ms: 41170\n- text: First off, f- and the clique you claim\n start_ms: 41170\n end_ms: 43300\n- text: Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n start_ms: 43300\n end_ms: 46170\n- text: You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n start_ms: 46170\n end_ms: 48640\n- text: We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n start_ms: 48640\n end_ms: 51370\n- text: Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n start_ms: 51370\n end_ms: 53960\n- text: Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n start_ms: 53960\n end_ms: 57010\n- text: We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n start_ms: 57010\n end_ms: 58900\n- text: Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n start_ms: 58900\n end_ms: 61830\n- text: Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n start_ms: 61830\n end_ms: 64630\n- text: Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n start_ms: 64630\n end_ms: 66770\n- text: Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n start_ms: 66770\n end_ms: 68930\n- text: Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n start_ms: 68930\n end_ms: 71940\n- text: I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n start_ms: 71940\n end_ms: 74040\n- text: Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n start_ms: 74040\n end_ms: 77030\n- text: Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n start_ms: 77030\n end_ms: 78890\n- text: F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n start_ms: 78890\n end_ms: 82100\n- text: See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 82100\n end_ms: 84290\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 84290\n end_ms: 86970\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 86970\n end_ms: 89170\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 89170\n end_ms: 91330\n- text: N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n start_ms: 91330\n end_ms: 94540\n- text: Check this out\n start_ms: 94540\n end_ms: 97540\n- text: West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n start_ms: 97540\n end_ms: 102430\n- text: Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n start_ms: 102430\n end_ms: 104080\n- text: Biggie Smalls just got shot\n start_ms: 104080\n end_ms: 106680\n- text: Little Moo', pass the MAC\n start_ms: 106680\n end_ms: 108110\n- text: And let me hit him in his back\n start_ms: 108110\n end_ms: 109850\n- text: Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n start_ms: 109850\n end_ms: 112010\n- text: Little accident murderer\n start_ms: 112010\n end_ms: 113980\n- text: And I ain't never heard of ya\n start_ms: 113980\n end_ms: 115160\n- text: Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n start_ms: 115160\n end_ms: 117070\n- text: Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n start_ms: 117070\n end_ms: 119670\n- text: Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n start_ms: 119670\n end_ms: 121530\n- text: P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n start_ms: 121530\n end_ms: 125600\n- text: And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n start_ms: 125600\n end_ms: 127530\n- text: With the ready power\n start_ms: 127530\n end_ms: 129010\n- text: Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n start_ms: 129010\n end_ms: 130230\n- text: I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 130230\n end_ms: 132530\n- text: When you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 132530\n end_ms: 134650\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 134650\n end_ms: 137440\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 137440\n end_ms: 139510\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 139510\n end_ms: 140760\n- text: Nigga, say what?\n start_ms: 140760\n end_ms: 142790\n- text: Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n start_ms: 142790\n end_ms: 145570\n- text: This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n start_ms: 145570\n end_ms: 147790\n- text: With your mouths open\n start_ms: 147790\n end_ms: 149170\n- text: Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n start_ms: 149170\n end_ms: 151750\n- text: Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n start_ms: 151750\n end_ms: 153580\n- text: N- think they learned to fly\n start_ms: 153580\n end_ms: 154840\n- text: But they burn, you deserve to die\n start_ms: 154840\n end_ms: 156320\n- text: Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n start_ms: 156320\n end_ms: 159320\n- text: All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n start_ms: 159320\n end_ms: 161780\n- text: I'm a self-made millionaire\n start_ms: 161780\n end_ms: 163570\n- text: Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n start_ms: 163570\n end_ms: 165740\n- text: Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n start_ms: 165740\n end_ms: 170160\n- text: And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n start_ms: 170160\n end_ms: 172050\n- text: Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n start_ms: 172050\n end_ms: 174750\n- text: Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n start_ms: 174750\n end_ms: 177200\n- text: Now I'm back to set the record straight\n start_ms: 177200\n end_ms: 179470\n- text: With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n start_ms: 179470\n end_ms: 182120\n- text: I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n start_ms: 182120\n end_ms: 185480\n- text: No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n start_ms: 185480\n end_ms: 187630\n- text: 'Now go check the scenario: Lil'' Cease'\n start_ms: 187630\n end_ms: 189890\n- text: I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n start_ms: 189890\n end_ms: 192710\n- text: Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n start_ms: 192710\n end_ms: 195640\n- text: Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n start_ms: 195640\n end_ms: 197730\n- text: What the, is you stupid\n start_ms: 197730\n end_ms: 199120\n- text: I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n start_ms: 199120\n end_ms: 201560\n- text: With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n start_ms: 201560\n end_ms: 203460\n- text: With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n start_ms: 203460\n end_ms: 205560\n- text: Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n start_ms: 205560\n end_ms: 207510\n- text: And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n start_ms: 207510\n end_ms: 209970\n- text: All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n start_ms: 209970\n end_ms: 212730\n- text: You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n start_ms: 212730\n end_ms: 215200\n- text: I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n start_ms: 215200\n end_ms: 218030\n- text: Softer than Alize with a chaser\n start_ms: 218030\n end_ms: 220130\n- text: About to get murdered for the paper\n start_ms: 220130\n end_ms: 221780\n- text: E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n start_ms: 221780\n end_ms: 223890\n- text: Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n start_ms: 223890\n end_ms: 226010\n- text: Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n start_ms: 226010\n end_ms: 227920\n- text: Better be knowin'\n start_ms: 227920\n end_ms: 230430\n- text: We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n start_ms: 230430\n end_ms: 232330\n- text: No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n start_ms: 232330\n end_ms: 234410\n- text: I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n start_ms: 234410\n end_ms: 237100\n- text: I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n start_ms: 237100\n end_ms: 242660\n- text: We hit 'em up\n start_ms: 242660\n end_ms: 243870\n- text: Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n start_ms: 243870\n end_ms: 245850\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 245850\n end_ms: 248120\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 248120\n end_ms: 250480\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 250480\n end_ms: 252910\n- text: Hit 'em up, that's right!\n start_ms: 252910\n end_ms: 254530\n- text: (Take money, take money)\n start_ms: 254530\n end_ms: 255540\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 255540\nplain: |-\n We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n (I think they do)\n\n When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\n They don't wanna play my song\n But they wanna play fat boy over here\n What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (What's up)\n\n First off, f- and the clique you claim\n Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\n Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\n Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\n I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\n See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\n Check this out\n West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\n Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n Biggie Smalls just got shot\n Little Moo', pass the MAC\n And let me hit him in his back\n\n Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n Little accident murderer\n And I ain't never heard of ya\n Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\n Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\n With the ready power\n Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\n When you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, say what?\n\n Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n With your mouths open\n Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\n Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n N- think they learned to fly\n But they burn, you deserve to die\n Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\n All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n I'm a self-made millionaire\n Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\n And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n Now I'm back to set the record straight\n\n With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\n I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\n Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n What the, is you stupid\n I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\n With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\n You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n Softer than Alize with a chaser\n About to get murdered for the paper\n\n E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n Better be knowin'\n We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\n No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n We hit 'em up\n Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Hit 'em up, that's right!\n\n (Take money, take money)\n"},{"id":18407695,"name":"Hit Em Up (Part 2)","trackName":"Hit Em Up (Part 2)","artistName":"2Pac","albumName":"Makaveli 3 - Hit Em Up","duration":303.406667,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\nYeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\nHey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n(I think they do)\n\nWhen this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\nI want all the West Coast people to give up some love\nWhen this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\nThey tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\nThey don't wanna play my song\nBut they wanna play fat boy over here\nWhat? Come on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (What's up)\n\nFirst off, f- and the clique you claim\nWestside when we ride, come equipped with game\nYou claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\nWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\nPlus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\nBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\nWe keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\nSteady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\nLil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\nCut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\nLil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\nQuick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\nI'll let them n- know it's on for life\nDon't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\nBad Boy murdered on wax and killed\nF- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\nSee, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nN-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\nCheck this out\nWest Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\nGet out the way yo, get out the way yo\nBiggie Smalls just got shot\nLittle Moo', pass the MAC\nAnd let me hit him in his back\n\nFrank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\nLittle accident murderer\nAnd I ain't never heard of ya\nPoisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\nSpank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\nGuard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\nP- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\nAnd I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\nWith the ready power\nTucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\nI push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\nWhen you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, say what?\n\nPeep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\nThis ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\nWith your mouths open\nTryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\nSmokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\nN- think they learned to fly\nBut they burn, you deserve to die\nTalkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\nAll you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\nI'm a self-made millionaire\nThug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\nBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\nAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\nNow it's all about Versace, you copied my style\nFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\nNow I'm back to set the record straight\n\nWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\nI'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\nNo points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\nNow go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\nI'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\nLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\nGet your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\nWhat the, is you stupid\nI take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\nWith my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\nWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\nOutlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\nAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\nAll your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\nYou's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\nI'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\nSofter than Alize with a chaser\nAbout to get murdered for the paper\n\nE.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\nLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\nGun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\nBetter be knowin'\nWe approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\nNo need for hopin', it's a battle lost\nI got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\nI hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\nWe hit 'em up\nGrab your glocks when you see Tupac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nHit 'em up, that's right!\n\n(Take money, take money)","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.42] We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n[00:01.56] Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n[00:02.30] Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n[00:03.09] (I think they do)\n[00:04.45] When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n[00:05.48] I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n[00:06.19] When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n[00:06.95] They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n[00:07.64] They don't wanna play my song\n[00:08.15] But they wanna play fat boy over here\n[00:09.55] What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:10.34] Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:11.08] Come on, come on (What's up)\n[00:12.04] First off, f- and the clique you claim\n[00:15.61] Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n[00:18.17] You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n[00:20.52] We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n[00:23.22] Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n[00:25.14] Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n[00:28.16] We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n[00:30.87] Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n[00:32.89] Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n[00:34.08] Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n[00:38.22] Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n[00:41.12] Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n[00:43.28] I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n[00:45.78] Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n[00:48.10] Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n[00:50.60] F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n[00:53.26] See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[00:55.33] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[00:58.36] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:00.62] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:03.15] N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n[01:04.95] Check this out\n[01:07.08] West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n[01:08.47] Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n[01:15.06] Biggie Smalls just got shot\n[01:17.77] Little Moo', pass the MAC\n[01:20.06] And let me hit him in his back\n[01:21.62] Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n[01:23.71] Little accident murderer\n[01:25.25] And I ain't never heard of ya\n[01:26.64] Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n[01:28.18] Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n[01:31.15] Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n[01:33.59] P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n[01:36.02] And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n[01:38.08] With the ready power\n[01:40.23] Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n[01:41.88] I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n[01:43.65] When you see 2Pac\n[01:46.23] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[01:48.77] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:51.07] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:53.15] Nigga, say what?\n[01:54.56] Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n[01:56.76] This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n[01:59.55] With your mouths open\n[02:00.96] Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n[02:03.12] Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n[02:05.29] N- think they learned to fly\n[02:06.73] But they burn, you deserve to die\n[02:08.55] Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n[02:11.44] All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n[02:13.58] I'm a self-made millionaire\n[02:15.73] Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n[02:17.92] Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n[02:22.04] And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n[02:24.00] Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n[02:26.08] Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n[02:28.87] Now I'm back to set the record straight\n[02:31.02] With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n[02:33.44] I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n[02:35.82] No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n[02:37.31] Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n[02:39.19] I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n[02:43.41] Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n[02:46.13] Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n[02:48.57] What the, is you stupid\n[02:50.15] I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n[02:52.92] With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n[02:55.22] With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n[02:56.98] Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n[02:59.59] And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n[03:01.70] All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n[03:04.33] You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n[03:06.86] I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n[03:08.46] Softer than Alize with a chaser\n[03:11.39] About to get murdered for the paper\n[03:14.62] E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n[03:16.68] Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n[03:18.88] Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n[03:20.66] Better be knowin'\n[03:22.43] We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n[03:24.53] No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n[03:26.34] I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n[03:29.17] I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n[03:31.85] We hit 'em up\n[03:32.99] Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n[03:35.08] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[03:35.93] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[03:36.46] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[03:37.10] Hit 'em up, that's right!\n[03:37.97] (Take money, take money)\n[04:10.88] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Hit Em Up (Part 2)\n artist: 2Pac\n album: Makaveli 3 - Hit Em Up\n duration_ms: 303407\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n start_ms: 1420\n end_ms: 1560\n- text: Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n start_ms: 1560\n end_ms: 2300\n- text: Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n start_ms: 2300\n end_ms: 3090\n- text: (I think they do)\n start_ms: 3090\n end_ms: 4450\n- text: When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n start_ms: 4450\n end_ms: 5480\n- text: I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n start_ms: 5480\n end_ms: 6190\n- text: When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n start_ms: 6190\n end_ms: 6950\n- text: They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n start_ms: 6950\n end_ms: 7640\n- text: They don't wanna play my song\n start_ms: 7640\n end_ms: 8150\n- text: But they wanna play fat boy over here\n start_ms: 8150\n end_ms: 9550\n- text: What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 9550\n end_ms: 10340\n- text: Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 10340\n end_ms: 11080\n- text: Come on, come on (What's up)\n start_ms: 11080\n end_ms: 12040\n- text: First off, f- and the clique you claim\n start_ms: 12040\n end_ms: 15610\n- text: Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n start_ms: 15610\n end_ms: 18170\n- text: You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n start_ms: 18170\n end_ms: 20520\n- text: We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n start_ms: 20520\n end_ms: 23220\n- text: Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n start_ms: 23220\n end_ms: 25140\n- text: Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n start_ms: 25140\n end_ms: 28160\n- text: We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n start_ms: 28160\n end_ms: 30870\n- text: Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n start_ms: 30870\n end_ms: 32890\n- text: Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n start_ms: 32890\n end_ms: 34080\n- text: Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n start_ms: 34080\n end_ms: 38220\n- text: Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n start_ms: 38220\n end_ms: 41120\n- text: Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n start_ms: 41120\n end_ms: 43280\n- text: I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n start_ms: 43280\n end_ms: 45780\n- text: Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n start_ms: 45780\n end_ms: 48100\n- text: Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n start_ms: 48100\n end_ms: 50600\n- text: F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n start_ms: 50600\n end_ms: 53260\n- text: See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 53260\n end_ms: 55330\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 55330\n end_ms: 58360\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 58360\n end_ms: 60620\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 60620\n end_ms: 63150\n- text: N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n start_ms: 63150\n end_ms: 64950\n- text: Check this out\n start_ms: 64950\n end_ms: 67080\n- text: West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n start_ms: 67080\n end_ms: 68470\n- text: Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n start_ms: 68470\n end_ms: 75060\n- text: Biggie Smalls just got shot\n start_ms: 75060\n end_ms: 77770\n- text: Little Moo', pass the MAC\n start_ms: 77770\n end_ms: 80060\n- text: And let me hit him in his back\n start_ms: 80060\n end_ms: 81620\n- text: Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n start_ms: 81620\n end_ms: 83710\n- text: Little accident murderer\n start_ms: 83710\n end_ms: 85250\n- text: And I ain't never heard of ya\n start_ms: 85250\n end_ms: 86640\n- text: Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n start_ms: 86640\n end_ms: 88180\n- text: Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n start_ms: 88180\n end_ms: 91150\n- text: Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n start_ms: 91150\n end_ms: 93590\n- text: P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n start_ms: 93590\n end_ms: 96020\n- text: And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n start_ms: 96020\n end_ms: 98080\n- text: With the ready power\n start_ms: 98080\n end_ms: 100230\n- text: Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n start_ms: 100230\n end_ms: 101880\n- text: I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 101880\n end_ms: 103650\n- text: When you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 103650\n end_ms: 106230\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 106230\n end_ms: 108770\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 108770\n end_ms: 111070\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 111070\n end_ms: 113150\n- text: Nigga, say what?\n start_ms: 113150\n end_ms: 114560\n- text: Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n start_ms: 114560\n end_ms: 116760\n- text: This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n start_ms: 116760\n end_ms: 119550\n- text: With your mouths open\n start_ms: 119550\n end_ms: 120960\n- text: Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n start_ms: 120960\n end_ms: 123120\n- text: Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n start_ms: 123120\n end_ms: 125290\n- text: N- think they learned to fly\n start_ms: 125290\n end_ms: 126730\n- text: But they burn, you deserve to die\n start_ms: 126730\n end_ms: 128550\n- text: Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n start_ms: 128550\n end_ms: 131440\n- text: All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n start_ms: 131440\n end_ms: 133580\n- text: I'm a self-made millionaire\n start_ms: 133580\n end_ms: 135730\n- text: Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n start_ms: 135730\n end_ms: 137920\n- text: Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n start_ms: 137920\n end_ms: 142040\n- text: And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n start_ms: 142040\n end_ms: 144000\n- text: Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n start_ms: 144000\n end_ms: 146080\n- text: Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n start_ms: 146080\n end_ms: 148870\n- text: Now I'm back to set the record straight\n start_ms: 148870\n end_ms: 151020\n- text: With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n start_ms: 151020\n end_ms: 153440\n- text: I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n start_ms: 153440\n end_ms: 155820\n- text: No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n start_ms: 155820\n end_ms: 157310\n- text: 'Now go check the scenario: Lil'' Cease'\n start_ms: 157310\n end_ms: 159190\n- text: I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n start_ms: 159190\n end_ms: 163410\n- text: Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n start_ms: 163410\n end_ms: 166130\n- text: Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n start_ms: 166130\n end_ms: 168570\n- text: What the, is you stupid\n start_ms: 168570\n end_ms: 170150\n- text: I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n start_ms: 170150\n end_ms: 172920\n- text: With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n start_ms: 172920\n end_ms: 175220\n- text: With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n start_ms: 175220\n end_ms: 176980\n- text: Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n start_ms: 176980\n end_ms: 179590\n- text: And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n start_ms: 179590\n end_ms: 181700\n- text: All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n start_ms: 181700\n end_ms: 184330\n- text: You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n start_ms: 184330\n end_ms: 186860\n- text: I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n start_ms: 186860\n end_ms: 188460\n- text: Softer than Alize with a chaser\n start_ms: 188460\n end_ms: 191390\n- text: About to get murdered for the paper\n start_ms: 191390\n end_ms: 194620\n- text: E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n start_ms: 194620\n end_ms: 196680\n- text: Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n start_ms: 196680\n end_ms: 198880\n- text: Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n start_ms: 198880\n end_ms: 200660\n- text: Better be knowin'\n start_ms: 200660\n end_ms: 202430\n- text: We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n start_ms: 202430\n end_ms: 204530\n- text: No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n start_ms: 204530\n end_ms: 206340\n- text: I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n start_ms: 206340\n end_ms: 209170\n- text: I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n start_ms: 209170\n end_ms: 211850\n- text: We hit 'em up\n start_ms: 211850\n end_ms: 212990\n- text: Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n start_ms: 212990\n end_ms: 215080\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 215080\n end_ms: 215930\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 215930\n end_ms: 216460\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 216460\n end_ms: 217100\n- text: Hit 'em up, that's right!\n start_ms: 217100\n end_ms: 217970\n- text: (Take money, take money)\n start_ms: 217970\n end_ms: 250880\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 250880\nplain: |-\n We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n (I think they do)\n\n When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\n They don't wanna play my song\n But they wanna play fat boy over here\n What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (What's up)\n\n First off, f- and the clique you claim\n Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\n Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\n Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\n I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\n See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\n Check this out\n West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\n Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n Biggie Smalls just got shot\n Little Moo', pass the MAC\n And let me hit him in his back\n\n Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n Little accident murderer\n And I ain't never heard of ya\n Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\n Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\n With the ready power\n Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\n When you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, say what?\n\n Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n With your mouths open\n Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\n Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n N- think they learned to fly\n But they burn, you deserve to die\n Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\n All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n I'm a self-made millionaire\n Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\n And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n Now I'm back to set the record straight\n\n With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\n I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\n Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n What the, is you stupid\n I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\n With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\n You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n Softer than Alize with a chaser\n About to get murdered for the paper\n\n E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n Better be knowin'\n We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\n No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n We hit 'em up\n Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Hit 'em up, that's right!\n\n (Take money, take money)\n"},{"id":12631825,"name":"12 - 2Pac - Hit 'Em Up","trackName":"12 - 2Pac - Hit 'Em Up","artistName":"2Pac, The Outlawz","albumName":"2Pac Greatest Hits","duration":313.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends (sucka ass)\nThat's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker\n(Take money) Westside, Bad Boy killers (take money) (you know)\nYou know who the realest is niggas we bring it to you (take money)\nThat's a'ight (take money), ha-ha\n\nFirst off, fuck yo' bitch and the clique you claim\nWestside when we ride, come equipped with game\nYou claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife\nWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life\nPlus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\nBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A., some mark-ass bitches\nWe keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\nSteady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\nLil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\nCut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\nLil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's\nQuick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace!\nI'll let them niggas know it's on for life\nDon't let the Westside ride tonight (hahaha)\nBad Boy murdered on wax and killed\nFuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\nSee, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, I hit 'em up! (Yeah)\n\nCheck this out (take money), you motherfuckers know what time it is\nI don't even know why I'm on this track (take money)\nY'all niggas ain't even on my level\nI'ma let my lil' homies ride on you, bitch-made ass (take money)\nBad Boy bitches, feel it! (Take money)\n\nGet out the way yo, get out the way yo\nBiggie Smalls just got dropped\nLittle Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back\nFrank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\nLittle accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya\nPoisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\nSpank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\nGuard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint\nPuffy weaker than the fuckin' block I'm runnin' through, nigga\nAnd I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga\nWith the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\nYour clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour; I hit 'em up!\n\nGrab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, we hit 'em up!\n\nPeep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\nThis ain't no freestyle battle\nAll you niggas gettin' killed with your mouths open\nTryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\nSmokin' dope, it's like a sherm high, niggas think they learned to fly\nBut they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die\nTalkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\nAll you niggas livin' bummy while you fuckin' with me\n\nI'm a self-made millionaire\nThug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (haha)\nBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\nAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\nNow it's all about Versace, you copied my style\nFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\nNow I'm back to set the record straight\nWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\nMothafucker, I hit 'em up!\n\nI'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\nNo points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs\nNow go check the scenario, Little Cease\nI'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\nLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\nGet your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n\nWhat the fuck, is you stupid?\nI take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\nWith my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\nWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\nOutlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\nAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\nAll your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\nYou's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\nI'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit but a faker\nSofter than Alizé with a chaser\n'Bout to get murdered for the paper\nE.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\nLike a loc, with Lil Caesar in a choke\n\nGun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\nThug Life, niggas better be knowin'\nWe approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\nNo need for hopin', it's a battle lost\nI got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\nNigga, I hit 'em up!\n\nNow you tell me who won\nI see them, they run, hahahaha\nThey don't wanna see us (take money)\nWhole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressin' up tryna be us (take money)\nHow the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job? (Take money)\nWe millionaires\nKillin' ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it (take money)\n\nOh yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us? (Take money)\nYou little young-ass motherfuckers (take money)\nDon't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or somethin'? (Take money)\nYou're fuckin' with me, nigga\nYou fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack (take money)\nYou better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up\nThis is how we do it on our side\nAny of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it!\nBut we ain't singin', we bringin' drama\nFuck you and yo' motherfuckin' mama!\n\nWe gon' kill all you motherfuckers!\nNow, when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie\nThen everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfuckin' opinion\nWell, this is how we gonna do this, Fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!\nFuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfuckin' crew!\nAnd if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too!\nChino XL, fuck you too!\nAll you motherfuckers, fuck you too! (Take money, take money)\n\nAll of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow!\nMotherfucker, my .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!\nYou motherfuckers can't be us or see us\nWe motherfuckin' Thug Life riders, Westside 'til we die!\nOut here in California, nigga, we warned ya\nWe'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!\nYou think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfuckin' mob!\nAin't nothin' but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us\nOur shit goes triple and four-quadruple (take money)\n\nYou niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns under they motherfuckers belts\nYou know how it is, when we drop records, they felt\nYou niggas can't feel it, we the realest\nFuck 'em, we Bad Boy killers!","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.17] I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends (sucka ass)\n[00:01.62] That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker\n[00:03.92] (Take money) Westside, Bad Boy killers (take money) (you know)\n[00:07.67] You know who the realest is niggas we bring it to you (take money)\n[00:10.26] That's a'ight (take money), ha-ha\n[00:12.74] First off, fuck yo' bitch and the clique you claim\n[00:15.46] Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n[00:17.91] You claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife\n[00:20.27] We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life\n[00:23.08] Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n[00:25.26] Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A., some mark-ass bitches\n[00:28.25] We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n[00:30.43] Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n[00:33.54] Lil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n[00:35.51] Cut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n[00:38.49] Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's\n[00:40.45] Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace!\n[00:43.59] I'll let them niggas know it's on for life\n[00:45.53] Don't let the Westside ride tonight (hahaha)\n[00:48.38] Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n[00:50.71] Fuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n[00:53.06] See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[00:56.35] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[00:58.86] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:00.82] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:02.65] Nigga, I hit 'em up! (Yeah)\n[01:03.74] Check this out (take money), you motherfuckers know what time it is\n[01:06.12] I don't even know why I'm on this track (take money)\n[01:07.54] Y'all niggas ain't even on my level\n[01:09.00] I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you, bitch-made ass (take money)\n[01:11.40] Bad Boy bitches, feel it! (Take money)\n[01:13.11] Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n[01:15.93] Biggie Smalls just got dropped\n[01:17.84] Little Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back\n[01:20.99] Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n[01:23.68] Little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya\n[01:26.17] Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n[01:28.75] Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n[01:31.00] Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint\n[01:33.63] Puffy weaker than the fuckin' block I'm runnin' through, nigga\n[01:36.04] And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga\n[01:38.46] With the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n[01:41.19] Your clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour; I hit 'em up!\n[01:44.18] Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[01:46.70] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[01:49.09] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:51.16] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:53.24] Nigga, we hit 'em up!\n[01:54.09] Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n[01:56.79] This ain't no freestyle battle\n[01:58.03] All you niggas gettin' killed with your mouths open\n[02:00.60] Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n[02:02.96] Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high, niggas think they learned to fly\n[02:06.39] But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die\n[02:08.87] Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n[02:11.50] All you niggas livin' bummy while you fuckin' with me\n[02:13.74] I'm a self-made millionaire\n[02:15.70] Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (haha)\n[02:18.61] Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n[02:21.39] And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n[02:23.61] Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n[02:26.52] Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n[02:28.90] Now I'm back to set the record straight\n[02:30.84] With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n[02:33.25] Mothafucker, I hit 'em up!\n[02:33.91] I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n[02:36.82] No points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs\n[02:39.12] Now go check the scenario, Little Cease\n[02:41.35] I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n[02:44.52] Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n[02:46.36] Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n[02:48.50] What the fuck, is you stupid?\n[02:49.89] I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n[02:52.45] With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n[02:54.78] With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n[02:56.89] Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n[02:59.45] And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n[03:01.64] All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n[03:04.34] You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n[03:07.14] I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit but a faker\n[03:09.54] Softer than Alizé with a chaser\n[03:11.38] 'Bout to get murdered for the paper\n[03:13.04] E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n[03:15.31] Like a loc, with Lil Caesar in a choke\n[03:17.37] Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n[03:19.92] Thug Life, niggas better be knowin'\n[03:21.72] We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n[03:24.24] No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n[03:26.16] I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n[03:29.07] Nigga, I hit 'em up!\n[03:30.99] Now you tell me who won\n[03:32.58] I see them, they run, hahahaha\n[03:35.22] They don't wanna see us (take money)\n[03:36.42] Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressin' up tryna be us (take money)\n[03:39.18] How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job? (Take money)\n[03:41.58] We millionaires\n[03:42.70] Killin' ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it (take money)\n[03:44.50] Oh yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us? (Take money)\n[03:47.66] You little young-ass motherfuckers (take money)\n[03:48.93] Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or somethin'? (Take money)\n[03:50.97] You're fuckin' with me, nigga\n[03:52.02] You fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack (take money)\n[03:54.05] You better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up\n[03:56.65] This is how we do it on our side\n[03:58.28] Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it!\n[04:00.37] But we ain't singin', we bringin' drama\n[04:02.36] Fuck you and yo' motherfuckin' mama!\n[04:04.47] We gon' kill all you motherfuckers!\n[04:05.96] Now, when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie\n[04:08.42] Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfuckin' opinion\n[04:11.11] Well, this is how we gonna do this, Fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!\n[04:15.05] Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfuckin' crew!\n[04:18.74] And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too!\n[04:21.68] Chino XL, fuck you too!\n[04:24.25] All you motherfuckers, fuck you too! (Take money, take money)\n[04:29.00] All of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow!\n[04:31.42] Motherfucker, my .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!\n[04:35.08] You motherfuckers can't be us or see us\n[04:37.23] We motherfuckin' Thug Life riders, Westside 'til we die!\n[04:40.39] Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya\n[04:42.45] We'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!\n[04:45.23] You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfuckin' mob!\n[04:47.87] Ain't nothin' but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us\n[04:51.17] Our shit goes triple and four-quadruple (take money)\n[04:55.45] You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns under they motherfuckers belts\n[04:59.16] You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt\n[05:01.76] You niggas can't feel it, we the realest\n[05:03.95] Fuck 'em, we Bad Boy killers!\n[05:08.66] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: 12 - 2Pac - Hit 'Em Up\n artist: 2Pac, The Outlawz\n album: 2Pac Greatest Hits\n duration_ms: 313000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends (sucka ass)\n start_ms: 170\n end_ms: 1620\n- text: That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker\n start_ms: 1620\n end_ms: 3920\n- text: (Take money) Westside, Bad Boy killers (take money) (you know)\n start_ms: 3920\n end_ms: 7670\n- text: You know who the realest is niggas we bring it to you (take money)\n start_ms: 7670\n end_ms: 10260\n- text: That's a'ight (take money), ha-ha\n start_ms: 10260\n end_ms: 12740\n- text: First off, fuck yo' bitch and the clique you claim\n start_ms: 12740\n end_ms: 15460\n- text: Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n start_ms: 15460\n end_ms: 17910\n- text: You claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife\n start_ms: 17910\n end_ms: 20270\n- text: We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life\n start_ms: 20270\n end_ms: 23080\n- text: Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n start_ms: 23080\n end_ms: 25260\n- text: Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A., some mark-ass bitches\n start_ms: 25260\n end_ms: 28250\n- text: We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n start_ms: 28250\n end_ms: 30430\n- text: Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n start_ms: 30430\n end_ms: 33540\n- text: Lil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n start_ms: 33540\n end_ms: 35510\n- text: Cut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n start_ms: 35510\n end_ms: 38490\n- text: Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's\n start_ms: 38490\n end_ms: 40450\n- text: Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace!\n start_ms: 40450\n end_ms: 43590\n- text: I'll let them niggas know it's on for life\n start_ms: 43590\n end_ms: 45530\n- text: Don't let the Westside ride tonight (hahaha)\n start_ms: 45530\n end_ms: 48380\n- text: Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n start_ms: 48380\n end_ms: 50710\n- text: Fuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n start_ms: 50710\n end_ms: 53060\n- text: See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 53060\n end_ms: 56350\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 56350\n end_ms: 58860\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 58860\n end_ms: 60820\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 60820\n end_ms: 62650\n- text: Nigga, I hit 'em up! (Yeah)\n start_ms: 62650\n end_ms: 63740\n- text: Check this out (take money), you motherfuckers know what time it is\n start_ms: 63740\n end_ms: 66120\n- text: I don't even know why I'm on this track (take money)\n start_ms: 66120\n end_ms: 67540\n- text: Y'all niggas ain't even on my level\n start_ms: 67540\n end_ms: 69000\n- text: I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you, bitch-made ass (take money)\n start_ms: 69000\n end_ms: 71400\n- text: Bad Boy bitches, feel it! (Take money)\n start_ms: 71400\n end_ms: 73110\n- text: Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n start_ms: 73110\n end_ms: 75930\n- text: Biggie Smalls just got dropped\n start_ms: 75930\n end_ms: 77840\n- text: Little Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back\n start_ms: 77840\n end_ms: 80990\n- text: Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n start_ms: 80990\n end_ms: 83680\n- text: Little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya\n start_ms: 83680\n end_ms: 86170\n- text: Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n start_ms: 86170\n end_ms: 88750\n- text: Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n start_ms: 88750\n end_ms: 91000\n- text: Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint\n start_ms: 91000\n end_ms: 93630\n- text: Puffy weaker than the fuckin' block I'm runnin' through, nigga\n start_ms: 93630\n end_ms: 96040\n- text: And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga\n start_ms: 96040\n end_ms: 98460\n- text: With the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n start_ms: 98460\n end_ms: 101190\n- text: Your clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour; I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 101190\n end_ms: 104180\n- text: Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 104180\n end_ms: 106700\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 106700\n end_ms: 109090\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 109090\n end_ms: 111160\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 111160\n end_ms: 113240\n- text: Nigga, we hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 113240\n end_ms: 114090\n- text: Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n start_ms: 114090\n end_ms: 116790\n- text: This ain't no freestyle battle\n start_ms: 116790\n end_ms: 118030\n- text: All you niggas gettin' killed with your mouths open\n start_ms: 118030\n end_ms: 120600\n- text: Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n start_ms: 120600\n end_ms: 122960\n- text: Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high, niggas think they learned to fly\n start_ms: 122960\n end_ms: 126390\n- text: But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die\n start_ms: 126390\n end_ms: 128870\n- text: Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n start_ms: 128870\n end_ms: 131500\n- text: All you niggas livin' bummy while you fuckin' with me\n start_ms: 131500\n end_ms: 133740\n- text: I'm a self-made millionaire\n start_ms: 133740\n end_ms: 135700\n- text: Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (haha)\n start_ms: 135700\n end_ms: 138610\n- text: Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n start_ms: 138610\n end_ms: 141390\n- text: And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n start_ms: 141390\n end_ms: 143610\n- text: Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n start_ms: 143610\n end_ms: 146520\n- text: Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n start_ms: 146520\n end_ms: 148900\n- text: Now I'm back to set the record straight\n start_ms: 148900\n end_ms: 150840\n- text: With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n start_ms: 150840\n end_ms: 153250\n- text: Mothafucker, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 153250\n end_ms: 153910\n- text: I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n start_ms: 153910\n end_ms: 156820\n- text: No points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs\n start_ms: 156820\n end_ms: 159120\n- text: Now go check the scenario, Little Cease\n start_ms: 159120\n end_ms: 161350\n- text: I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n start_ms: 161350\n end_ms: 164520\n- text: Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n start_ms: 164520\n end_ms: 166360\n- text: Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n start_ms: 166360\n end_ms: 168500\n- text: What the fuck, is you stupid?\n start_ms: 168500\n end_ms: 169890\n- text: I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n start_ms: 169890\n end_ms: 172450\n- text: With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n start_ms: 172450\n end_ms: 174780\n- text: With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n start_ms: 174780\n end_ms: 176890\n- text: Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n start_ms: 176890\n end_ms: 179450\n- text: And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n start_ms: 179450\n end_ms: 181640\n- text: All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n start_ms: 181640\n end_ms: 184340\n- text: You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n start_ms: 184340\n end_ms: 187140\n- text: I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit but a faker\n start_ms: 187140\n end_ms: 189540\n- text: Softer than Alizé with a chaser\n start_ms: 189540\n end_ms: 191380\n- text: '''Bout to get murdered for the paper'\n start_ms: 191380\n end_ms: 193040\n- text: E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n start_ms: 193040\n end_ms: 195310\n- text: Like a loc, with Lil Caesar in a choke\n start_ms: 195310\n end_ms: 197370\n- text: Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n start_ms: 197370\n end_ms: 199920\n- text: Thug Life, niggas better be knowin'\n start_ms: 199920\n end_ms: 201720\n- text: We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n start_ms: 201720\n end_ms: 204240\n- text: No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n start_ms: 204240\n end_ms: 206160\n- text: I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n start_ms: 206160\n end_ms: 209070\n- text: Nigga, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 209070\n end_ms: 210990\n- text: Now you tell me who won\n start_ms: 210990\n end_ms: 212580\n- text: I see them, they run, hahahaha\n start_ms: 212580\n end_ms: 215220\n- text: They don't wanna see us (take money)\n start_ms: 215220\n end_ms: 216420\n- text: Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressin' up tryna be us (take money)\n start_ms: 216420\n end_ms: 219180\n- text: How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job? (Take money)\n start_ms: 219180\n end_ms: 221580\n- text: We millionaires\n start_ms: 221580\n end_ms: 222700\n- text: Killin' ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it (take money)\n start_ms: 222700\n end_ms: 224500\n- text: Oh yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us? (Take money)\n start_ms: 224500\n end_ms: 227660\n- text: You little young-ass motherfuckers (take money)\n start_ms: 227660\n end_ms: 228930\n- text: Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or somethin'? (Take money)\n start_ms: 228930\n end_ms: 230970\n- text: You're fuckin' with me, nigga\n start_ms: 230970\n end_ms: 232020\n- text: You fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack (take money)\n start_ms: 232020\n end_ms: 234050\n- text: You better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up\n start_ms: 234050\n end_ms: 236650\n- text: This is how we do it on our side\n start_ms: 236650\n end_ms: 238280\n- text: Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it!\n start_ms: 238280\n end_ms: 240370\n- text: But we ain't singin', we bringin' drama\n start_ms: 240370\n end_ms: 242360\n- text: Fuck you and yo' motherfuckin' mama!\n start_ms: 242360\n end_ms: 244470\n- text: We gon' kill all you motherfuckers!\n start_ms: 244470\n end_ms: 245960\n- text: Now, when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie\n start_ms: 245960\n end_ms: 248420\n- text: Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfuckin' opinion\n start_ms: 248420\n end_ms: 251110\n- text: Well, this is how we gonna do this, Fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!\n start_ms: 251110\n end_ms: 255050\n- text: Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfuckin' crew!\n start_ms: 255050\n end_ms: 258740\n- text: And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too!\n start_ms: 258740\n end_ms: 261680\n- text: Chino XL, fuck you too!\n start_ms: 261680\n end_ms: 264250\n- text: All you motherfuckers, fuck you too! (Take money, take money)\n start_ms: 264250\n end_ms: 269000\n- text: All of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow!\n start_ms: 269000\n end_ms: 271420\n- text: Motherfucker, my .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!\n start_ms: 271420\n end_ms: 275080\n- text: You motherfuckers can't be us or see us\n start_ms: 275080\n end_ms: 277230\n- text: We motherfuckin' Thug Life riders, Westside 'til we die!\n start_ms: 277230\n end_ms: 280390\n- text: Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya\n start_ms: 280390\n end_ms: 282450\n- text: We'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!\n start_ms: 282450\n end_ms: 285230\n- text: You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfuckin' mob!\n start_ms: 285230\n end_ms: 287870\n- text: Ain't nothin' but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us\n start_ms: 287870\n end_ms: 291170\n- text: Our shit goes triple and four-quadruple (take money)\n start_ms: 291170\n end_ms: 295450\n- text: You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns under they motherfuckers belts\n start_ms: 295450\n end_ms: 299160\n- text: You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt\n start_ms: 299160\n end_ms: 301760\n- text: You niggas can't feel it, we the realest\n start_ms: 301760\n end_ms: 303950\n- text: Fuck 'em, we Bad Boy killers!\n start_ms: 303950\n end_ms: 308660\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 308660\nplain: |-\n I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends (sucka ass)\n That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker\n (Take money) Westside, Bad Boy killers (take money) (you know)\n You know who the realest is niggas we bring it to you (take money)\n That's a'ight (take money), ha-ha\n\n First off, fuck yo' bitch and the clique you claim\n Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n You claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife\n We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life\n Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A., some mark-ass bitches\n We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\n Lil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n Cut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's\n Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace!\n I'll let them niggas know it's on for life\n Don't let the Westside ride tonight (hahaha)\n Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n Fuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\n See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, I hit 'em up! (Yeah)\n\n Check this out (take money), you motherfuckers know what time it is\n I don't even know why I'm on this track (take money)\n Y'all niggas ain't even on my level\n I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you, bitch-made ass (take money)\n Bad Boy bitches, feel it! (Take money)\n\n Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n Biggie Smalls just got dropped\n Little Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back\n Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n Little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya\n Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\n Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint\n Puffy weaker than the fuckin' block I'm runnin' through, nigga\n And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga\n With the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n Your clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour; I hit 'em up!\n\n Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, we hit 'em up!\n\n Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n This ain't no freestyle battle\n All you niggas gettin' killed with your mouths open\n Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high, niggas think they learned to fly\n But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die\n Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n All you niggas livin' bummy while you fuckin' with me\n\n I'm a self-made millionaire\n Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (haha)\n Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n Now I'm back to set the record straight\n With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n Mothafucker, I hit 'em up!\n\n I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n No points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs\n Now go check the scenario, Little Cease\n I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n\n What the fuck, is you stupid?\n I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\n You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit but a faker\n Softer than Alizé with a chaser\n 'Bout to get murdered for the paper\n E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n Like a loc, with Lil Caesar in a choke\n\n Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n Thug Life, niggas better be knowin'\n We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n Nigga, I hit 'em up!\n\n Now you tell me who won\n I see them, they run, hahahaha\n They don't wanna see us (take money)\n Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressin' up tryna be us (take money)\n How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job? (Take money)\n We millionaires\n Killin' ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it (take money)\n\n Oh yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us? (Take money)\n You little young-ass motherfuckers (take money)\n Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or somethin'? (Take money)\n You're fuckin' with me, nigga\n You fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack (take money)\n You better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up\n This is how we do it on our side\n Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it!\n But we ain't singin', we bringin' drama\n Fuck you and yo' motherfuckin' mama!\n\n We gon' kill all you motherfuckers!\n Now, when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie\n Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfuckin' opinion\n Well, this is how we gonna do this, Fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!\n Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfuckin' crew!\n And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too!\n Chino XL, fuck you too!\n All you motherfuckers, fuck you too! (Take money, take money)\n\n All of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow!\n Motherfucker, my .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!\n You motherfuckers can't be us or see us\n We motherfuckin' Thug Life riders, Westside 'til we die!\n Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya\n We'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!\n You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfuckin' mob!\n Ain't nothin' but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us\n Our shit goes triple and four-quadruple (take money)\n\n You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns under they motherfuckers belts\n You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt\n You niggas can't feel it, we the realest\n Fuck 'em, we Bad Boy killers!\n"},{"id":4876674,"name":"Hit 'Em Up","trackName":"Hit 'Em Up","artistName":"2Pac","albumName":"2Pac Live","duration":257.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\nYeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\nHey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n(I think they do)\n\nWhen this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\nI want all the West Coast people to give up some love\nWhen this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\nThey tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\nThey don't wanna play my song\nBut they wanna play fat boy over here\nWhat? Come on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (What's up)\n\nFirst off, f- and the clique you claim\nWestside when we ride, come equipped with game\nYou claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\nWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\nPlus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\nBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\nWe keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\nSteady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\nLil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\nCut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\nLil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\nQuick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\nI'll let them n- know it's on for life\nDon't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\nBad Boy murdered on wax and killed\nF- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\nSee, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nN-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\nCheck this out\nWest Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\nGet out the way yo, get out the way yo\nBiggie Smalls just got shot\nLittle Moo', pass the MAC\nAnd let me hit him in his back\n\nFrank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\nLittle accident murderer\nAnd I ain't never heard of ya\nPoisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\nSpank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\nGuard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\nP- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\nAnd I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\nWith the ready power\nTucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\nI push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\nWhen you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, say what?\n\nPeep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\nThis ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\nWith your mouths open\nTryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\nSmokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\nN- think they learned to fly\nBut they burn, you deserve to die\nTalkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\nAll you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\nI'm a self-made millionaire\nThug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\nBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\nAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\nNow it's all about Versace, you copied my style\nFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\nNow I'm back to set the record straight\n\nWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\nI'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\nNo points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\nNow go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\nI'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\nLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\nGet your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\nWhat the, is you stupid\nI take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\nWith my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\nWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\nOutlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\nAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\nAll your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\nYou's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\nI'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\nSofter than Alize with a chaser\nAbout to get murdered for the paper\n\nE.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\nLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\nGun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\nBetter be knowin'\nWe approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\nNo need for hopin', it's a battle lost\nI got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\nI hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\nWe hit 'em up\nGrab your glocks when you see Tupac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nHit 'em up, that's right!\n\n(Take money, take money)","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.37] We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n[00:05.59] Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n[00:13.39] Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n[00:18.31] (I think they do)\n[00:19.63] When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n[00:22.07] I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n[00:23.86] When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n[00:25.27] They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n[00:28.41] They don't wanna play my song\n[00:30.34] But they wanna play fat boy over here\n[00:33.13] What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:35.68] Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:37.92] Come on, come on (What's up)\n[00:41.16] First off, f- and the clique you claim\n[00:43.38] Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n[00:46.13] You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n[00:48.70] We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n[00:51.36] Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n[00:53.96] Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n[00:57.01] We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n[00:58.89] Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n[01:01.87] Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n[01:04.70] Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n[01:06.71] Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n[01:08.91] Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n[01:11.93] I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n[01:14.09] Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n[01:17.06] Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n[01:18.82] F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n[01:22.04] See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[01:24.25] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[01:26.91] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:29.12] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:31.34] N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n[01:34.50] Check this out\n[01:37.54] West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n[01:42.43] Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n[01:44.08] Biggie Smalls just got shot\n[01:46.61] Little Moo', pass the MAC\n[01:48.14] And let me hit him in his back\n[01:49.83] Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n[01:52.04] Little accident murderer\n[01:53.92] And I ain't never heard of ya\n[01:55.14] Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n[01:57.08] Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n[01:59.60] Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n[02:01.58] P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n[02:05.68] And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n[02:07.55] With the ready power\n[02:09.05] Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n[02:10.30] I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n[02:12.54] When you see 2Pac\n[02:14.62] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[02:17.49] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[02:19.55] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[02:20.72] Nigga, say what?\n[02:22.73] Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n[02:25.55] This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n[02:27.78] With your mouths open\n[02:29.14] Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n[02:31.78] Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n[02:33.54] N- think they learned to fly\n[02:34.84] But they burn, you deserve to die\n[02:36.39] Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n[02:39.39] All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n[02:41.75] I'm a self-made millionaire\n[02:43.54] Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n[02:45.71] Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n[02:50.13] And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n[02:52.06] Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n[02:54.76] Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n[02:57.25] Now I'm back to set the record straight\n[02:59.41] With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n[03:02.17] I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n[03:05.41] No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n[03:07.69] Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n[03:09.87] I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n[03:12.78] Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n[03:15.67] Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n[03:17.73] What the, is you stupid\n[03:19.13] I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n[03:21.57] With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n[03:23.46] With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n[03:25.54] Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n[03:27.56] And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n[03:29.91] All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n[03:32.77] You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n[03:35.19] I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n[03:38.06] Softer than Alize with a chaser\n[03:40.16] About to get murdered for the paper\n[03:41.74] E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n[03:43.84] Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n[03:46.01] Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n[03:47.99] Better be knowin'\n[03:50.45] We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n[03:52.40] No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n[03:54.44] I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n[03:57.09] I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n[04:02.62] We hit 'em up\n[04:03.87] Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n[04:05.86] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[04:08.17] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[04:10.43] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[04:12.95] Hit 'em up, that's right!\n[04:14.54] (Take money, take money)\n[04:15.52] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Hit 'Em Up\n artist: 2Pac\n album: 2Pac Live\n duration_ms: 257000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n start_ms: 1370\n end_ms: 5590\n- text: Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n start_ms: 5590\n end_ms: 13390\n- text: Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n start_ms: 13390\n end_ms: 18310\n- text: (I think they do)\n start_ms: 18310\n end_ms: 19630\n- text: When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n start_ms: 19630\n end_ms: 22070\n- text: I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n start_ms: 22070\n end_ms: 23860\n- text: When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n start_ms: 23860\n end_ms: 25270\n- text: They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n start_ms: 25270\n end_ms: 28410\n- text: They don't wanna play my song\n start_ms: 28410\n end_ms: 30340\n- text: But they wanna play fat boy over here\n start_ms: 30340\n end_ms: 33130\n- text: What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 33130\n end_ms: 35680\n- text: Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 35680\n end_ms: 37920\n- text: Come on, come on (What's up)\n start_ms: 37920\n end_ms: 41160\n- text: First off, f- and the clique you claim\n start_ms: 41160\n end_ms: 43380\n- text: Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n start_ms: 43380\n end_ms: 46130\n- text: You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n start_ms: 46130\n end_ms: 48700\n- text: We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n start_ms: 48700\n end_ms: 51360\n- text: Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n start_ms: 51360\n end_ms: 53960\n- text: Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n start_ms: 53960\n end_ms: 57010\n- text: We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n start_ms: 57010\n end_ms: 58890\n- text: Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n start_ms: 58890\n end_ms: 61870\n- text: Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n start_ms: 61870\n end_ms: 64700\n- text: Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n start_ms: 64700\n end_ms: 66710\n- text: Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n start_ms: 66710\n end_ms: 68910\n- text: Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n start_ms: 68910\n end_ms: 71930\n- text: I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n start_ms: 71930\n end_ms: 74090\n- text: Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n start_ms: 74090\n end_ms: 77060\n- text: Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n start_ms: 77060\n end_ms: 78820\n- text: F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n start_ms: 78820\n end_ms: 82040\n- text: See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 82040\n end_ms: 84250\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 84250\n end_ms: 86910\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 86910\n end_ms: 89120\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 89120\n end_ms: 91340\n- text: N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n start_ms: 91340\n end_ms: 94500\n- text: Check this out\n start_ms: 94500\n end_ms: 97540\n- text: West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n start_ms: 97540\n end_ms: 102430\n- text: Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n start_ms: 102430\n end_ms: 104080\n- text: Biggie Smalls just got shot\n start_ms: 104080\n end_ms: 106610\n- text: Little Moo', pass the MAC\n start_ms: 106610\n end_ms: 108140\n- text: And let me hit him in his back\n start_ms: 108140\n end_ms: 109830\n- text: Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n start_ms: 109830\n end_ms: 112040\n- text: Little accident murderer\n start_ms: 112040\n end_ms: 113920\n- text: And I ain't never heard of ya\n start_ms: 113920\n end_ms: 115140\n- text: Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n start_ms: 115140\n end_ms: 117080\n- text: Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n start_ms: 117080\n end_ms: 119600\n- text: Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n start_ms: 119600\n end_ms: 121580\n- text: P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n start_ms: 121580\n end_ms: 125680\n- text: And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n start_ms: 125680\n end_ms: 127550\n- text: With the ready power\n start_ms: 127550\n end_ms: 129050\n- text: Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n start_ms: 129050\n end_ms: 130300\n- text: I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 130300\n end_ms: 132540\n- text: When you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 132540\n end_ms: 134620\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 134620\n end_ms: 137490\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 137490\n end_ms: 139550\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 139550\n end_ms: 140720\n- text: Nigga, say what?\n start_ms: 140720\n end_ms: 142730\n- text: Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n start_ms: 142730\n end_ms: 145550\n- text: This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n start_ms: 145550\n end_ms: 147780\n- text: With your mouths open\n start_ms: 147780\n end_ms: 149140\n- text: Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n start_ms: 149140\n end_ms: 151780\n- text: Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n start_ms: 151780\n end_ms: 153540\n- text: N- think they learned to fly\n start_ms: 153540\n end_ms: 154840\n- text: But they burn, you deserve to die\n start_ms: 154840\n end_ms: 156390\n- text: Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n start_ms: 156390\n end_ms: 159390\n- text: All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n start_ms: 159390\n end_ms: 161750\n- text: I'm a self-made millionaire\n start_ms: 161750\n end_ms: 163540\n- text: Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n start_ms: 163540\n end_ms: 165710\n- text: Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n start_ms: 165710\n end_ms: 170130\n- text: And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n start_ms: 170130\n end_ms: 172060\n- text: Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n start_ms: 172060\n end_ms: 174760\n- text: Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n start_ms: 174760\n end_ms: 177250\n- text: Now I'm back to set the record straight\n start_ms: 177250\n end_ms: 179410\n- text: With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n start_ms: 179410\n end_ms: 182170\n- text: I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n start_ms: 182170\n end_ms: 185410\n- text: No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n start_ms: 185410\n end_ms: 187690\n- text: 'Now go check the scenario: Lil'' Cease'\n start_ms: 187690\n end_ms: 189870\n- text: I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n start_ms: 189870\n end_ms: 192780\n- text: Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n start_ms: 192780\n end_ms: 195670\n- text: Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n start_ms: 195670\n end_ms: 197730\n- text: What the, is you stupid\n start_ms: 197730\n end_ms: 199130\n- text: I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n start_ms: 199130\n end_ms: 201570\n- text: With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n start_ms: 201570\n end_ms: 203460\n- text: With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n start_ms: 203460\n end_ms: 205540\n- text: Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n start_ms: 205540\n end_ms: 207560\n- text: And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n start_ms: 207560\n end_ms: 209910\n- text: All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n start_ms: 209910\n end_ms: 212770\n- text: You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n start_ms: 212770\n end_ms: 215190\n- text: I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n start_ms: 215190\n end_ms: 218060\n- text: Softer than Alize with a chaser\n start_ms: 218060\n end_ms: 220160\n- text: About to get murdered for the paper\n start_ms: 220160\n end_ms: 221740\n- text: E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n start_ms: 221740\n end_ms: 223840\n- text: Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n start_ms: 223840\n end_ms: 226010\n- text: Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n start_ms: 226010\n end_ms: 227990\n- text: Better be knowin'\n start_ms: 227990\n end_ms: 230450\n- text: We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n start_ms: 230450\n end_ms: 232400\n- text: No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n start_ms: 232400\n end_ms: 234440\n- text: I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n start_ms: 234440\n end_ms: 237090\n- text: I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n start_ms: 237090\n end_ms: 242620\n- text: We hit 'em up\n start_ms: 242620\n end_ms: 243870\n- text: Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n start_ms: 243870\n end_ms: 245860\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 245860\n end_ms: 248170\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 248170\n end_ms: 250430\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 250430\n end_ms: 252950\n- text: Hit 'em up, that's right!\n start_ms: 252950\n end_ms: 254540\n- text: (Take money, take money)\n start_ms: 254540\n end_ms: 255520\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 255520\nplain: |-\n We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n (I think they do)\n\n When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\n They don't wanna play my song\n But they wanna play fat boy over here\n What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (What's up)\n\n First off, f- and the clique you claim\n Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\n Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\n Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\n I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\n See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\n Check this out\n West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\n Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n Biggie Smalls just got shot\n Little Moo', pass the MAC\n And let me hit him in his back\n\n Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n Little accident murderer\n And I ain't never heard of ya\n Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\n Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\n With the ready power\n Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\n When you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, say what?\n\n Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n With your mouths open\n Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\n Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n N- think they learned to fly\n But they burn, you deserve to die\n Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\n All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n I'm a self-made millionaire\n Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\n And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n Now I'm back to set the record straight\n\n With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\n I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\n Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n What the, is you stupid\n I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\n With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\n You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n Softer than Alize with a chaser\n About to get murdered for the paper\n\n E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n Better be knowin'\n We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\n No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n We hit 'em up\n Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Hit 'em up, that's right!\n\n (Take money, take money)\n"},{"id":9163730,"name":"Hit Em Up","trackName":"Hit Em Up","artistName":"2Pac","albumName":"2Pac Songs","duration":323.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\nYeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\nHey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n(I think they do)\n\nWhen this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\nI want all the West Coast people to give up some love\nWhen this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\nThey tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\nThey don't wanna play my song\nBut they wanna play fat boy over here\nWhat? Come on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (What's up)\n\nFirst off, f- and the clique you claim\nWestside when we ride, come equipped with game\nYou claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\nWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\nPlus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\nBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\nWe keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\nSteady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\nLil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\nCut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\nLil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\nQuick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\nI'll let them n- know it's on for life\nDon't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\nBad Boy murdered on wax and killed\nF- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\nSee, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nN-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\nCheck this out\nWest Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\nGet out the way yo, get out the way yo\nBiggie Smalls just got shot\nLittle Moo', pass the MAC\nAnd let me hit him in his back\n\nFrank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\nLittle accident murderer\nAnd I ain't never heard of ya\nPoisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\nSpank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\nGuard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\nP- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\nAnd I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\nWith the ready power\nTucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\nI push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\nWhen you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, say what?\n\nPeep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\nThis ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\nWith your mouths open\nTryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\nSmokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\nN- think they learned to fly\nBut they burn, you deserve to die\nTalkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\nAll you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\nI'm a self-made millionaire\nThug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\nBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\nAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\nNow it's all about Versace, you copied my style\nFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\nNow I'm back to set the record straight\n\nWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\nI'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\nNo points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\nNow go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\nI'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\nLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\nGet your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\nWhat the, is you stupid\nI take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\nWith my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\nWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\nOutlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\nAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\nAll your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\nYou's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\nI'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\nSofter than Alize with a chaser\nAbout to get murdered for the paper\n\nE.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\nLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\nGun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\nBetter be knowin'\nWe approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\nNo need for hopin', it's a battle lost\nI got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\nI hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\nWe hit 'em up\nGrab your glocks when you see Tupac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nHit 'em up, that's right!\n\n(Take money, take money)","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.49] We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n[00:03.73] Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n[00:04.97] Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n[00:05.96] (I think they do)\n[00:06.95] When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n[00:07.73] I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n[00:08.55] When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n[00:09.14] They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n[00:09.90] They don't wanna play my song\n[00:10.36] But they wanna play fat boy over here\n[00:10.67] What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:11.11] Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:11.68] Come on, come on (What's up)\n[00:12.85] First off, f- and the clique you claim\n[00:15.11] Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n[00:17.83] You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n[00:20.11] We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n[00:22.57] Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n[00:25.19] Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n[00:28.19] We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n[00:30.59] Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n[00:33.42] Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n[00:35.53] Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n[00:38.18] Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n[00:40.55] Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n[00:43.54] I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n[00:45.60] Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n[00:48.39] Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n[00:50.52] F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n[00:53.08] See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[00:55.75] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[00:58.42] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:00.71] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:02.72] N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n[01:04.29] Check this out\n[01:05.27] West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n[01:07.87] \n[01:13.25] Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n[01:16.25] Biggie Smalls just got shot\n[01:17.81] Little Moo', pass the MAC\n[01:19.36] And let me hit him in his back\n[01:20.81] Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n[01:23.78] Little accident murderer\n[01:24.86] And I ain't never heard of ya\n[01:26.28] Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n[01:28.74] Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n[01:30.88] Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n[01:33.62] P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n[01:36.15] And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n[01:38.56] With the ready power\n[01:39.61] Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n[01:41.65] I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n[01:44.45] When you see 2Pac\n[01:47.13] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[01:49.58] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:51.64] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:53.69] Nigga, say what?\n[01:55.02] Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n[01:56.64] This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n[01:59.28] With your mouths open\n[02:00.45] Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n[02:03.03] Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n[02:05.03] N- think they learned to fly\n[02:06.18] But they burn, you deserve to die\n[02:08.85] Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n[02:11.15] All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n[02:13.67] I'm a self-made millionaire\n[02:15.82] Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n[02:18.41] Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n[02:20.71] And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n[02:23.44] Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n[02:27.06] Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n[02:29.02] Now I'm back to set the record straight\n[02:31.42] With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n[02:34.73] I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n[02:37.12] No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n[02:39.77] Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n[02:41.92] I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n[02:44.73] Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n[02:46.73] Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n[02:49.58] What the, is you stupid\n[02:50.55] I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n[02:52.99] With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n[02:55.54] With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n[02:57.49] Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n[02:59.87] And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n[03:02.48] All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n[03:04.78] You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n[03:06.70] I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n[03:09.53] Softer than Alize with a chaser\n[03:11.67] About to get murdered for the paper\n[03:13.26] E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n[03:15.26] Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n[03:17.71] Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n[03:21.34] Better be knowin'\n[03:22.12] We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n[03:24.47] No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n[03:26.11] I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n[03:28.75] I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n[03:31.31] \n[03:34.08] We hit 'em up\n[03:36.73] Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n[03:38.89] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[03:41.05] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[03:42.96] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[03:44.61] Hit 'em up, that's right!\n[03:46.08] (Take money, take money)\n[03:46.61] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Hit Em Up\n artist: 2Pac\n album: 2Pac Songs\n duration_ms: 323000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n start_ms: 2490\n end_ms: 3730\n- text: Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n start_ms: 3730\n end_ms: 4970\n- text: Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n start_ms: 4970\n end_ms: 5960\n- text: (I think they do)\n start_ms: 5960\n end_ms: 6950\n- text: When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n start_ms: 6950\n end_ms: 7730\n- text: I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n start_ms: 7730\n end_ms: 8550\n- text: When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n start_ms: 8550\n end_ms: 9140\n- text: They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n start_ms: 9140\n end_ms: 9900\n- text: They don't wanna play my song\n start_ms: 9900\n end_ms: 10360\n- text: But they wanna play fat boy over here\n start_ms: 10360\n end_ms: 10670\n- text: What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 10670\n end_ms: 11110\n- text: Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 11110\n end_ms: 11680\n- text: Come on, come on (What's up)\n start_ms: 11680\n end_ms: 12850\n- text: First off, f- and the clique you claim\n start_ms: 12850\n end_ms: 15110\n- text: Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n start_ms: 15110\n end_ms: 17830\n- text: You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n start_ms: 17830\n end_ms: 20110\n- text: We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n start_ms: 20110\n end_ms: 22570\n- text: Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n start_ms: 22570\n end_ms: 25190\n- text: Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n start_ms: 25190\n end_ms: 28190\n- text: We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n start_ms: 28190\n end_ms: 30590\n- text: Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n start_ms: 30590\n end_ms: 33420\n- text: Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n start_ms: 33420\n end_ms: 35530\n- text: Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n start_ms: 35530\n end_ms: 38180\n- text: Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n start_ms: 38180\n end_ms: 40550\n- text: Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n start_ms: 40550\n end_ms: 43540\n- text: I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n start_ms: 43540\n end_ms: 45600\n- text: Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n start_ms: 45600\n end_ms: 48390\n- text: Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n start_ms: 48390\n end_ms: 50520\n- text: F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n start_ms: 50520\n end_ms: 53080\n- text: See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 53080\n end_ms: 55750\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 55750\n end_ms: 58420\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 58420\n end_ms: 60710\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 60710\n end_ms: 62720\n- text: N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n start_ms: 62720\n end_ms: 64290\n- text: Check this out\n start_ms: 64290\n end_ms: 65270\n- text: West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n start_ms: 65270\n end_ms: 67870\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 67870\n end_ms: 73250\n- text: Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n start_ms: 73250\n end_ms: 76250\n- text: Biggie Smalls just got shot\n start_ms: 76250\n end_ms: 77810\n- text: Little Moo', pass the MAC\n start_ms: 77810\n end_ms: 79360\n- text: And let me hit him in his back\n start_ms: 79360\n end_ms: 80810\n- text: Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n start_ms: 80810\n end_ms: 83780\n- text: Little accident murderer\n start_ms: 83780\n end_ms: 84860\n- text: And I ain't never heard of ya\n start_ms: 84860\n end_ms: 86280\n- text: Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n start_ms: 86280\n end_ms: 88740\n- text: Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n start_ms: 88740\n end_ms: 90880\n- text: Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n start_ms: 90880\n end_ms: 93620\n- text: P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n start_ms: 93620\n end_ms: 96150\n- text: And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n start_ms: 96150\n end_ms: 98560\n- text: With the ready power\n start_ms: 98560\n end_ms: 99610\n- text: Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n start_ms: 99610\n end_ms: 101650\n- text: I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 101650\n end_ms: 104450\n- text: When you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 104450\n end_ms: 107130\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 107130\n end_ms: 109580\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 109580\n end_ms: 111640\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 111640\n end_ms: 113690\n- text: Nigga, say what?\n start_ms: 113690\n end_ms: 115020\n- text: Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n start_ms: 115020\n end_ms: 116640\n- text: This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n start_ms: 116640\n end_ms: 119280\n- text: With your mouths open\n start_ms: 119280\n end_ms: 120450\n- text: Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n start_ms: 120450\n end_ms: 123030\n- text: Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n start_ms: 123030\n end_ms: 125030\n- text: N- think they learned to fly\n start_ms: 125030\n end_ms: 126180\n- text: But they burn, you deserve to die\n start_ms: 126180\n end_ms: 128850\n- text: Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n start_ms: 128850\n end_ms: 131150\n- text: All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n start_ms: 131150\n end_ms: 133670\n- text: I'm a self-made millionaire\n start_ms: 133670\n end_ms: 135820\n- text: Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n start_ms: 135820\n end_ms: 138410\n- text: Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n start_ms: 138410\n end_ms: 140710\n- text: And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n start_ms: 140710\n end_ms: 143440\n- text: Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n start_ms: 143440\n end_ms: 147060\n- text: Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n start_ms: 147060\n end_ms: 149020\n- text: Now I'm back to set the record straight\n start_ms: 149020\n end_ms: 151420\n- text: With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n start_ms: 151420\n end_ms: 154730\n- text: I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n start_ms: 154730\n end_ms: 157120\n- text: No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n start_ms: 157120\n end_ms: 159770\n- text: 'Now go check the scenario: Lil'' Cease'\n start_ms: 159770\n end_ms: 161920\n- text: I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n start_ms: 161920\n end_ms: 164730\n- text: Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n start_ms: 164730\n end_ms: 166730\n- text: Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n start_ms: 166730\n end_ms: 169580\n- text: What the, is you stupid\n start_ms: 169580\n end_ms: 170550\n- text: I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n start_ms: 170550\n end_ms: 172990\n- text: With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n start_ms: 172990\n end_ms: 175540\n- text: With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n start_ms: 175540\n end_ms: 177490\n- text: Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n start_ms: 177490\n end_ms: 179870\n- text: And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n start_ms: 179870\n end_ms: 182480\n- text: All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n start_ms: 182480\n end_ms: 184780\n- text: You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n start_ms: 184780\n end_ms: 186700\n- text: I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n start_ms: 186700\n end_ms: 189530\n- text: Softer than Alize with a chaser\n start_ms: 189530\n end_ms: 191670\n- text: About to get murdered for the paper\n start_ms: 191670\n end_ms: 193260\n- text: E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n start_ms: 193260\n end_ms: 195260\n- text: Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n start_ms: 195260\n end_ms: 197710\n- text: Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n start_ms: 197710\n end_ms: 201340\n- text: Better be knowin'\n start_ms: 201340\n end_ms: 202120\n- text: We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n start_ms: 202120\n end_ms: 204470\n- text: No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n start_ms: 204470\n end_ms: 206110\n- text: I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n start_ms: 206110\n end_ms: 208750\n- text: I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n start_ms: 208750\n end_ms: 211310\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 211310\n end_ms: 214080\n- text: We hit 'em up\n start_ms: 214080\n end_ms: 216730\n- text: Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n start_ms: 216730\n end_ms: 218890\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 218890\n end_ms: 221050\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 221050\n end_ms: 222960\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 222960\n end_ms: 224610\n- text: Hit 'em up, that's right!\n start_ms: 224610\n end_ms: 226080\n- text: (Take money, take money)\n start_ms: 226080\n end_ms: 226610\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 226610\nplain: |-\n We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n (I think they do)\n\n When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\n They don't wanna play my song\n But they wanna play fat boy over here\n What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (What's up)\n\n First off, f- and the clique you claim\n Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\n Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\n Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\n I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\n See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\n Check this out\n West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\n Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n Biggie Smalls just got shot\n Little Moo', pass the MAC\n And let me hit him in his back\n\n Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n Little accident murderer\n And I ain't never heard of ya\n Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\n Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\n With the ready power\n Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\n When you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, say what?\n\n Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n With your mouths open\n Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\n Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n N- think they learned to fly\n But they burn, you deserve to die\n Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\n All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n I'm a self-made millionaire\n Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\n And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n Now I'm back to set the record straight\n\n With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\n I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\n Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n What the, is you stupid\n I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\n With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\n You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n Softer than Alize with a chaser\n About to get murdered for the paper\n\n E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n Better be knowin'\n We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\n No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n We hit 'em up\n Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Hit 'em up, that's right!\n\n (Take money, take money)\n"},{"id":31531750,"name":"Hit Em Up","trackName":"Hit Em Up","artistName":"2Pac","albumName":"2Pac Live","duration":313.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\nYeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\nHey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n(I think they do)\n\nWhen this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\nI want all the West Coast people to give up some love\nWhen this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\nThey tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\nThey don't wanna play my song\nBut they wanna play fat boy over here\nWhat? Come on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (What's up)\n\nFirst off, f- and the clique you claim\nWestside when we ride, come equipped with game\nYou claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\nWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\nPlus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\nBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\nWe keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\nSteady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\nLil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\nCut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\nLil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\nQuick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\nI'll let them n- know it's on for life\nDon't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\nBad Boy murdered on wax and killed\nF- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\nSee, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nN-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\nCheck this out\nWest Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\nGet out the way yo, get out the way yo\nBiggie Smalls just got shot\nLittle Moo', pass the MAC\nAnd let me hit him in his back\n\nFrank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\nLittle accident murderer\nAnd I ain't never heard of ya\nPoisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\nSpank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\nGuard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\nP- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\nAnd I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\nWith the ready power\nTucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\nI push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\nWhen you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, say what?\n\nPeep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\nThis ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\nWith your mouths open\nTryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\nSmokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\nN- think they learned to fly\nBut they burn, you deserve to die\nTalkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\nAll you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\nI'm a self-made millionaire\nThug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\nBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\nAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\nNow it's all about Versace, you copied my style\nFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\nNow I'm back to set the record straight\n\nWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\nI'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\nNo points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\nNow go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\nI'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\nLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\nGet your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\nWhat the, is you stupid\nI take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\nWith my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\nWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\nOutlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\nAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\nAll your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\nYou's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\nI'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\nSofter than Alize with a chaser\nAbout to get murdered for the paper\n\nE.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\nLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\nGun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\nBetter be knowin'\nWe approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\nNo need for hopin', it's a battle lost\nI got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\nI hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\nWe hit 'em up\nGrab your glocks when you see Tupac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nHit 'em up, that's right!\n\n(Take money, take money)","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.37] We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n[00:05.58] Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n[00:13.35] Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n[00:18.38] (I think they do)\n[00:19.67] When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n[00:22.08] I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n[00:23.83] When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n[00:25.23] They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n[00:28.48] They don't wanna play my song\n[00:30.36] But they wanna play fat boy over here\n[00:33.13] What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:35.68] Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:37.93] Come on, come on (What's up)\n[00:41.17] First off, f- and the clique you claim\n[00:43.30] Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n[00:46.17] You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n[00:48.64] We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n[00:51.37] Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n[00:53.96] Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n[00:57.01] We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n[00:58.90] Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n[01:01.83] Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n[01:04.63] Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n[01:06.77] Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n[01:08.93] Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n[01:11.94] I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n[01:14.04] Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n[01:17.03] Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n[01:18.89] F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n[01:22.10] See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[01:24.29] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[01:26.97] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:29.17] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:31.33] N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n[01:34.54] Check this out\n[01:37.54] West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n[01:42.43] Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n[01:44.08] Biggie Smalls just got shot\n[01:46.68] Little Moo', pass the MAC\n[01:48.11] And let me hit him in his back\n[01:49.85] Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n[01:52.01] Little accident murderer\n[01:53.98] And I ain't never heard of ya\n[01:55.16] Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n[01:57.07] Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n[01:59.67] Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n[02:01.53] P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n[02:05.60] And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n[02:07.53] With the ready power\n[02:09.01] Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n[02:10.23] I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n[02:12.53] When you see 2Pac\n[02:14.65] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[02:17.44] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[02:19.51] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[02:20.76] Nigga, say what?\n[02:22.79] Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n[02:25.57] This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n[02:27.79] With your mouths open\n[02:29.17] Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n[02:31.75] Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n[02:33.58] N- think they learned to fly\n[02:34.84] But they burn, you deserve to die\n[02:36.32] Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n[02:39.32] All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n[02:41.78] I'm a self-made millionaire\n[02:43.57] Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n[02:45.74] Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n[02:50.16] And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n[02:52.05] Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n[02:54.75] Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n[02:57.20] Now I'm back to set the record straight\n[02:59.47] With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n[03:02.12] I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n[03:05.48] No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n[03:07.63] Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n[03:09.89] I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n[03:12.71] Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n[03:15.64] Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n[03:17.73] What the, is you stupid\n[03:19.12] I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n[03:21.56] With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n[03:23.46] With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n[03:25.56] Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n[03:27.51] And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n[03:29.97] All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n[03:32.73] You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n[03:35.20] I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n[03:38.03] Softer than Alize with a chaser\n[03:40.13] About to get murdered for the paper\n[03:41.78] E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n[03:43.89] Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n[03:46.01] Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n[03:47.92] Better be knowin'\n[03:50.43] We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n[03:52.33] No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n[03:54.41] I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n[03:57.10] I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n[04:02.66] We hit 'em up\n[04:03.87] Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n[04:05.85] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[04:08.12] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[04:10.48] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[04:12.91] Hit 'em up, that's right!\n[04:14.53] (Take money, take money)\n[04:15.54] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Hit Em Up\n artist: 2Pac\n album: 2Pac Live\n duration_ms: 313000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n start_ms: 1370\n end_ms: 5580\n- text: Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n start_ms: 5580\n end_ms: 13350\n- text: Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n start_ms: 13350\n end_ms: 18380\n- text: (I think they do)\n start_ms: 18380\n end_ms: 19670\n- text: When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n start_ms: 19670\n end_ms: 22080\n- text: I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n start_ms: 22080\n end_ms: 23830\n- text: When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n start_ms: 23830\n end_ms: 25230\n- text: They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n start_ms: 25230\n end_ms: 28480\n- text: They don't wanna play my song\n start_ms: 28480\n end_ms: 30360\n- text: But they wanna play fat boy over here\n start_ms: 30360\n end_ms: 33130\n- text: What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 33130\n end_ms: 35680\n- text: Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 35680\n end_ms: 37930\n- text: Come on, come on (What's up)\n start_ms: 37930\n end_ms: 41170\n- text: First off, f- and the clique you claim\n start_ms: 41170\n end_ms: 43300\n- text: Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n start_ms: 43300\n end_ms: 46170\n- text: You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n start_ms: 46170\n end_ms: 48640\n- text: We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n start_ms: 48640\n end_ms: 51370\n- text: Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n start_ms: 51370\n end_ms: 53960\n- text: Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n start_ms: 53960\n end_ms: 57010\n- text: We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n start_ms: 57010\n end_ms: 58900\n- text: Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n start_ms: 58900\n end_ms: 61830\n- text: Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n start_ms: 61830\n end_ms: 64630\n- text: Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n start_ms: 64630\n end_ms: 66770\n- text: Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n start_ms: 66770\n end_ms: 68930\n- text: Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n start_ms: 68930\n end_ms: 71940\n- text: I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n start_ms: 71940\n end_ms: 74040\n- text: Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n start_ms: 74040\n end_ms: 77030\n- text: Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n start_ms: 77030\n end_ms: 78890\n- text: F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n start_ms: 78890\n end_ms: 82100\n- text: See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 82100\n end_ms: 84290\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 84290\n end_ms: 86970\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 86970\n end_ms: 89170\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 89170\n end_ms: 91330\n- text: N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n start_ms: 91330\n end_ms: 94540\n- text: Check this out\n start_ms: 94540\n end_ms: 97540\n- text: West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n start_ms: 97540\n end_ms: 102430\n- text: Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n start_ms: 102430\n end_ms: 104080\n- text: Biggie Smalls just got shot\n start_ms: 104080\n end_ms: 106680\n- text: Little Moo', pass the MAC\n start_ms: 106680\n end_ms: 108110\n- text: And let me hit him in his back\n start_ms: 108110\n end_ms: 109850\n- text: Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n start_ms: 109850\n end_ms: 112010\n- text: Little accident murderer\n start_ms: 112010\n end_ms: 113980\n- text: And I ain't never heard of ya\n start_ms: 113980\n end_ms: 115160\n- text: Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n start_ms: 115160\n end_ms: 117070\n- text: Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n start_ms: 117070\n end_ms: 119670\n- text: Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n start_ms: 119670\n end_ms: 121530\n- text: P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n start_ms: 121530\n end_ms: 125600\n- text: And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n start_ms: 125600\n end_ms: 127530\n- text: With the ready power\n start_ms: 127530\n end_ms: 129010\n- text: Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n start_ms: 129010\n end_ms: 130230\n- text: I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 130230\n end_ms: 132530\n- text: When you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 132530\n end_ms: 134650\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 134650\n end_ms: 137440\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 137440\n end_ms: 139510\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 139510\n end_ms: 140760\n- text: Nigga, say what?\n start_ms: 140760\n end_ms: 142790\n- text: Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n start_ms: 142790\n end_ms: 145570\n- text: This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n start_ms: 145570\n end_ms: 147790\n- text: With your mouths open\n start_ms: 147790\n end_ms: 149170\n- text: Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n start_ms: 149170\n end_ms: 151750\n- text: Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n start_ms: 151750\n end_ms: 153580\n- text: N- think they learned to fly\n start_ms: 153580\n end_ms: 154840\n- text: But they burn, you deserve to die\n start_ms: 154840\n end_ms: 156320\n- text: Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n start_ms: 156320\n end_ms: 159320\n- text: All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n start_ms: 159320\n end_ms: 161780\n- text: I'm a self-made millionaire\n start_ms: 161780\n end_ms: 163570\n- text: Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n start_ms: 163570\n end_ms: 165740\n- text: Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n start_ms: 165740\n end_ms: 170160\n- text: And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n start_ms: 170160\n end_ms: 172050\n- text: Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n start_ms: 172050\n end_ms: 174750\n- text: Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n start_ms: 174750\n end_ms: 177200\n- text: Now I'm back to set the record straight\n start_ms: 177200\n end_ms: 179470\n- text: With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n start_ms: 179470\n end_ms: 182120\n- text: I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n start_ms: 182120\n end_ms: 185480\n- text: No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n start_ms: 185480\n end_ms: 187630\n- text: 'Now go check the scenario: Lil'' Cease'\n start_ms: 187630\n end_ms: 189890\n- text: I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n start_ms: 189890\n end_ms: 192710\n- text: Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n start_ms: 192710\n end_ms: 195640\n- text: Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n start_ms: 195640\n end_ms: 197730\n- text: What the, is you stupid\n start_ms: 197730\n end_ms: 199120\n- text: I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n start_ms: 199120\n end_ms: 201560\n- text: With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n start_ms: 201560\n end_ms: 203460\n- text: With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n start_ms: 203460\n end_ms: 205560\n- text: Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n start_ms: 205560\n end_ms: 207510\n- text: And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n start_ms: 207510\n end_ms: 209970\n- text: All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n start_ms: 209970\n end_ms: 212730\n- text: You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n start_ms: 212730\n end_ms: 215200\n- text: I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n start_ms: 215200\n end_ms: 218030\n- text: Softer than Alize with a chaser\n start_ms: 218030\n end_ms: 220130\n- text: About to get murdered for the paper\n start_ms: 220130\n end_ms: 221780\n- text: E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n start_ms: 221780\n end_ms: 223890\n- text: Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n start_ms: 223890\n end_ms: 226010\n- text: Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n start_ms: 226010\n end_ms: 227920\n- text: Better be knowin'\n start_ms: 227920\n end_ms: 230430\n- text: We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n start_ms: 230430\n end_ms: 232330\n- text: No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n start_ms: 232330\n end_ms: 234410\n- text: I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n start_ms: 234410\n end_ms: 237100\n- text: I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n start_ms: 237100\n end_ms: 242660\n- text: We hit 'em up\n start_ms: 242660\n end_ms: 243870\n- text: Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n start_ms: 243870\n end_ms: 245850\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 245850\n end_ms: 248120\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 248120\n end_ms: 250480\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 250480\n end_ms: 252910\n- text: Hit 'em up, that's right!\n start_ms: 252910\n end_ms: 254530\n- text: (Take money, take money)\n start_ms: 254530\n end_ms: 255540\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 255540\nplain: |-\n We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n (I think they do)\n\n When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\n They don't wanna play my song\n But they wanna play fat boy over here\n What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (What's up)\n\n First off, f- and the clique you claim\n Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\n Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\n Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\n I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\n See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\n Check this out\n West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\n Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n Biggie Smalls just got shot\n Little Moo', pass the MAC\n And let me hit him in his back\n\n Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n Little accident murderer\n And I ain't never heard of ya\n Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\n Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\n With the ready power\n Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\n When you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, say what?\n\n Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n With your mouths open\n Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\n Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n N- think they learned to fly\n But they burn, you deserve to die\n Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\n All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n I'm a self-made millionaire\n Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\n And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n Now I'm back to set the record straight\n\n With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\n I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\n Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n What the, is you stupid\n I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\n With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\n You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n Softer than Alize with a chaser\n About to get murdered for the paper\n\n E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n Better be knowin'\n We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\n No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n We hit 'em up\n Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Hit 'em up, that's right!\n\n (Take money, take money)\n"},{"id":9499833,"name":"Hit Em Up","trackName":"Hit Em Up","artistName":"2Pac","albumName":"2Pac Videos","duration":322.881,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\nYeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\nHey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n(I think they do)\n\nWhen this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\nI want all the West Coast people to give up some love\nWhen this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\nThey tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\nThey don't wanna play my song\nBut they wanna play fat boy over here\nWhat? Come on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (What's up)\n\nFirst off, f- and the clique you claim\nWestside when we ride, come equipped with game\nYou claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\nWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\nPlus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\nBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\nWe keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\nSteady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\nLil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\nCut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\nLil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\nQuick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\nI'll let them n- know it's on for life\nDon't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\nBad Boy murdered on wax and killed\nF- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\nSee, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nN-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\nCheck this out\nWest Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\nGet out the way yo, get out the way yo\nBiggie Smalls just got shot\nLittle Moo', pass the MAC\nAnd let me hit him in his back\n\nFrank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\nLittle accident murderer\nAnd I ain't never heard of ya\nPoisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\nSpank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\nGuard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\nP- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\nAnd I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\nWith the ready power\nTucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\nI push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\nWhen you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, say what?\n\nPeep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\nThis ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\nWith your mouths open\nTryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\nSmokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\nN- think they learned to fly\nBut they burn, you deserve to die\nTalkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\nAll you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\nI'm a self-made millionaire\nThug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\nBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\nAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\nNow it's all about Versace, you copied my style\nFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\nNow I'm back to set the record straight\n\nWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\nI'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\nNo points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\nNow go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\nI'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\nLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\nGet your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\nWhat the, is you stupid\nI take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\nWith my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\nWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\nOutlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\nAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\nAll your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\nYou's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\nI'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\nSofter than Alize with a chaser\nAbout to get murdered for the paper\n\nE.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\nLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\nGun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\nBetter be knowin'\nWe approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\nNo need for hopin', it's a battle lost\nI got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\nI hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\nWe hit 'em up\nGrab your glocks when you see Tupac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nHit 'em up, that's right!\n\n(Take money, take money)","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.49] We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n[00:03.73] Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n[00:04.97] Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n[00:05.96] (I think they do)\n[00:06.95] When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n[00:07.73] I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n[00:08.55] When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n[00:09.14] They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n[00:09.90] They don't wanna play my song\n[00:10.36] But they wanna play fat boy over here\n[00:10.67] What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:11.11] Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:11.68] Come on, come on (What's up)\n[00:12.85] First off, f- and the clique you claim\n[00:15.11] Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n[00:17.83] You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n[00:20.11] We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n[00:22.57] Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n[00:25.19] Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n[00:28.19] We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n[00:30.59] Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n[00:33.42] Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n[00:35.53] Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n[00:38.18] Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n[00:40.55] Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n[00:43.54] I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n[00:45.60] Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n[00:48.39] Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n[00:50.52] F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n[00:53.08] See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[00:55.75] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[00:58.42] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:00.71] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:02.72] N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n[01:04.29] Check this out\n[01:05.27] West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n[01:07.87] \n[01:13.25] Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n[01:16.25] Biggie Smalls just got shot\n[01:17.81] Little Moo', pass the MAC\n[01:19.36] And let me hit him in his back\n[01:20.81] Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n[01:23.78] Little accident murderer\n[01:24.86] And I ain't never heard of ya\n[01:26.28] Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n[01:28.74] Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n[01:30.88] Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n[01:33.62] P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n[01:36.15] And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n[01:38.56] With the ready power\n[01:39.61] Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n[01:41.65] I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n[01:44.45] When you see 2Pac\n[01:47.13] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[01:49.58] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:51.64] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:53.69] Nigga, say what?\n[01:55.02] Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n[01:56.64] This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n[01:59.28] With your mouths open\n[02:00.45] Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n[02:03.03] Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n[02:05.03] N- think they learned to fly\n[02:06.18] But they burn, you deserve to die\n[02:08.85] Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n[02:11.15] All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n[02:13.67] I'm a self-made millionaire\n[02:15.82] Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n[02:18.41] Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n[02:20.71] And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n[02:23.44] Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n[02:27.06] Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n[02:29.02] Now I'm back to set the record straight\n[02:31.42] With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n[02:34.73] I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n[02:37.12] No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n[02:39.77] Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n[02:41.92] I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n[02:44.73] Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n[02:46.73] Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n[02:49.58] What the, is you stupid\n[02:50.55] I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n[02:52.99] With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n[02:55.54] With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n[02:57.49] Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n[02:59.87] And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n[03:02.48] All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n[03:04.78] You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n[03:06.70] I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n[03:09.53] Softer than Alize with a chaser\n[03:11.67] About to get murdered for the paper\n[03:13.26] E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n[03:15.26] Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n[03:17.71] Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n[03:21.34] Better be knowin'\n[03:22.12] We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n[03:24.47] No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n[03:26.11] I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n[03:28.75] I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n[03:31.31] \n[03:34.08] We hit 'em up\n[03:36.73] Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n[03:38.89] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[03:41.05] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[03:42.96] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[03:44.61] Hit 'em up, that's right!\n[03:46.08] (Take money, take money)\n[03:46.61] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Hit Em Up\n artist: 2Pac\n album: 2Pac Videos\n duration_ms: 322881\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n start_ms: 2490\n end_ms: 3730\n- text: Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n start_ms: 3730\n end_ms: 4970\n- text: Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n start_ms: 4970\n end_ms: 5960\n- text: (I think they do)\n start_ms: 5960\n end_ms: 6950\n- text: When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n start_ms: 6950\n end_ms: 7730\n- text: I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n start_ms: 7730\n end_ms: 8550\n- text: When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n start_ms: 8550\n end_ms: 9140\n- text: They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n start_ms: 9140\n end_ms: 9900\n- text: They don't wanna play my song\n start_ms: 9900\n end_ms: 10360\n- text: But they wanna play fat boy over here\n start_ms: 10360\n end_ms: 10670\n- text: What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 10670\n end_ms: 11110\n- text: Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 11110\n end_ms: 11680\n- text: Come on, come on (What's up)\n start_ms: 11680\n end_ms: 12850\n- text: First off, f- and the clique you claim\n start_ms: 12850\n end_ms: 15110\n- text: Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n start_ms: 15110\n end_ms: 17830\n- text: You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n start_ms: 17830\n end_ms: 20110\n- text: We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n start_ms: 20110\n end_ms: 22570\n- text: Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n start_ms: 22570\n end_ms: 25190\n- text: Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n start_ms: 25190\n end_ms: 28190\n- text: We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n start_ms: 28190\n end_ms: 30590\n- text: Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n start_ms: 30590\n end_ms: 33420\n- text: Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n start_ms: 33420\n end_ms: 35530\n- text: Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n start_ms: 35530\n end_ms: 38180\n- text: Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n start_ms: 38180\n end_ms: 40550\n- text: Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n start_ms: 40550\n end_ms: 43540\n- text: I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n start_ms: 43540\n end_ms: 45600\n- text: Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n start_ms: 45600\n end_ms: 48390\n- text: Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n start_ms: 48390\n end_ms: 50520\n- text: F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n start_ms: 50520\n end_ms: 53080\n- text: See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 53080\n end_ms: 55750\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 55750\n end_ms: 58420\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 58420\n end_ms: 60710\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 60710\n end_ms: 62720\n- text: N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n start_ms: 62720\n end_ms: 64290\n- text: Check this out\n start_ms: 64290\n end_ms: 65270\n- text: West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n start_ms: 65270\n end_ms: 67870\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 67870\n end_ms: 73250\n- text: Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n start_ms: 73250\n end_ms: 76250\n- text: Biggie Smalls just got shot\n start_ms: 76250\n end_ms: 77810\n- text: Little Moo', pass the MAC\n start_ms: 77810\n end_ms: 79360\n- text: And let me hit him in his back\n start_ms: 79360\n end_ms: 80810\n- text: Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n start_ms: 80810\n end_ms: 83780\n- text: Little accident murderer\n start_ms: 83780\n end_ms: 84860\n- text: And I ain't never heard of ya\n start_ms: 84860\n end_ms: 86280\n- text: Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n start_ms: 86280\n end_ms: 88740\n- text: Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n start_ms: 88740\n end_ms: 90880\n- text: Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n start_ms: 90880\n end_ms: 93620\n- text: P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n start_ms: 93620\n end_ms: 96150\n- text: And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n start_ms: 96150\n end_ms: 98560\n- text: With the ready power\n start_ms: 98560\n end_ms: 99610\n- text: Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n start_ms: 99610\n end_ms: 101650\n- text: I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 101650\n end_ms: 104450\n- text: When you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 104450\n end_ms: 107130\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 107130\n end_ms: 109580\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 109580\n end_ms: 111640\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 111640\n end_ms: 113690\n- text: Nigga, say what?\n start_ms: 113690\n end_ms: 115020\n- text: Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n start_ms: 115020\n end_ms: 116640\n- text: This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n start_ms: 116640\n end_ms: 119280\n- text: With your mouths open\n start_ms: 119280\n end_ms: 120450\n- text: Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n start_ms: 120450\n end_ms: 123030\n- text: Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n start_ms: 123030\n end_ms: 125030\n- text: N- think they learned to fly\n start_ms: 125030\n end_ms: 126180\n- text: But they burn, you deserve to die\n start_ms: 126180\n end_ms: 128850\n- text: Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n start_ms: 128850\n end_ms: 131150\n- text: All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n start_ms: 131150\n end_ms: 133670\n- text: I'm a self-made millionaire\n start_ms: 133670\n end_ms: 135820\n- text: Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n start_ms: 135820\n end_ms: 138410\n- text: Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n start_ms: 138410\n end_ms: 140710\n- text: And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n start_ms: 140710\n end_ms: 143440\n- text: Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n start_ms: 143440\n end_ms: 147060\n- text: Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n start_ms: 147060\n end_ms: 149020\n- text: Now I'm back to set the record straight\n start_ms: 149020\n end_ms: 151420\n- text: With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n start_ms: 151420\n end_ms: 154730\n- text: I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n start_ms: 154730\n end_ms: 157120\n- text: No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n start_ms: 157120\n end_ms: 159770\n- text: 'Now go check the scenario: Lil'' Cease'\n start_ms: 159770\n end_ms: 161920\n- text: I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n start_ms: 161920\n end_ms: 164730\n- text: Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n start_ms: 164730\n end_ms: 166730\n- text: Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n start_ms: 166730\n end_ms: 169580\n- text: What the, is you stupid\n start_ms: 169580\n end_ms: 170550\n- text: I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n start_ms: 170550\n end_ms: 172990\n- text: With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n start_ms: 172990\n end_ms: 175540\n- text: With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n start_ms: 175540\n end_ms: 177490\n- text: Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n start_ms: 177490\n end_ms: 179870\n- text: And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n start_ms: 179870\n end_ms: 182480\n- text: All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n start_ms: 182480\n end_ms: 184780\n- text: You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n start_ms: 184780\n end_ms: 186700\n- text: I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n start_ms: 186700\n end_ms: 189530\n- text: Softer than Alize with a chaser\n start_ms: 189530\n end_ms: 191670\n- text: About to get murdered for the paper\n start_ms: 191670\n end_ms: 193260\n- text: E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n start_ms: 193260\n end_ms: 195260\n- text: Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n start_ms: 195260\n end_ms: 197710\n- text: Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n start_ms: 197710\n end_ms: 201340\n- text: Better be knowin'\n start_ms: 201340\n end_ms: 202120\n- text: We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n start_ms: 202120\n end_ms: 204470\n- text: No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n start_ms: 204470\n end_ms: 206110\n- text: I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n start_ms: 206110\n end_ms: 208750\n- text: I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n start_ms: 208750\n end_ms: 211310\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 211310\n end_ms: 214080\n- text: We hit 'em up\n start_ms: 214080\n end_ms: 216730\n- text: Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n start_ms: 216730\n end_ms: 218890\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 218890\n end_ms: 221050\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 221050\n end_ms: 222960\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 222960\n end_ms: 224610\n- text: Hit 'em up, that's right!\n start_ms: 224610\n end_ms: 226080\n- text: (Take money, take money)\n start_ms: 226080\n end_ms: 226610\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 226610\nplain: |-\n We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n (I think they do)\n\n When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\n They don't wanna play my song\n But they wanna play fat boy over here\n What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (What's up)\n\n First off, f- and the clique you claim\n Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\n Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\n Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\n I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\n See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\n Check this out\n West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\n Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n Biggie Smalls just got shot\n Little Moo', pass the MAC\n And let me hit him in his back\n\n Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n Little accident murderer\n And I ain't never heard of ya\n Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\n Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\n With the ready power\n Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\n When you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, say what?\n\n Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n With your mouths open\n Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\n Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n N- think they learned to fly\n But they burn, you deserve to die\n Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\n All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n I'm a self-made millionaire\n Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\n And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n Now I'm back to set the record straight\n\n With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\n I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\n Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n What the, is you stupid\n I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\n With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\n You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n Softer than Alize with a chaser\n About to get murdered for the paper\n\n E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n Better be knowin'\n We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\n No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n We hit 'em up\n Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Hit 'em up, that's right!\n\n (Take money, take money)\n"},{"id":33755219,"name":"Hit 'Em Up","trackName":"Hit 'Em Up","artistName":"2Pac","albumName":"2Pac Videos","duration":313.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\nYeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\nHey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n(I think they do)\n\nWhen this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\nI want all the West Coast people to give up some love\nWhen this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\nThey tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\nThey don't wanna play my song\nBut they wanna play fat boy over here\nWhat? Come on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (Take money)\nCome on, come on (What's up)\n\nFirst off, f- and the clique you claim\nWestside when we ride, come equipped with game\nYou claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\nWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\nPlus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\nBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\nWe keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\nSteady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\nLil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\nCut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\nLil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\nQuick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\nI'll let them n- know it's on for life\nDon't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\nBad Boy murdered on wax and killed\nF- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\nSee, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nN-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\nCheck this out\nWest Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\nGet out the way yo, get out the way yo\nBiggie Smalls just got shot\nLittle Moo', pass the MAC\nAnd let me hit him in his back\n\nFrank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\nLittle accident murderer\nAnd I ain't never heard of ya\nPoisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\nSpank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\nGuard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\nP- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\nAnd I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\nWith the ready power\nTucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\nI push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\nWhen you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, say what?\n\nPeep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\nThis ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\nWith your mouths open\nTryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\nSmokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\nN- think they learned to fly\nBut they burn, you deserve to die\nTalkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\nAll you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\nI'm a self-made millionaire\nThug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\nBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\nAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\nNow it's all about Versace, you copied my style\nFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\nNow I'm back to set the record straight\n\nWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\nI'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\nNo points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\nNow go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\nI'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\nLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\nGet your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\nWhat the, is you stupid\nI take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\nWith my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\nWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\nOutlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\nAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\nAll your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\nYou's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\nI'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\nSofter than Alize with a chaser\nAbout to get murdered for the paper\n\nE.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\nLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\nGun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\nBetter be knowin'\nWe approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\nNo need for hopin', it's a battle lost\nI got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\nI hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\nWe hit 'em up\nGrab your glocks when you see Tupac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nHit 'em up, that's right!\n\n(Take money, take money)","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.37] We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n[00:05.58] Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n[00:13.35] Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n[00:18.38] (I think they do)\n[00:19.67] When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n[00:22.08] I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n[00:23.83] When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n[00:25.23] They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n[00:28.48] They don't wanna play my song\n[00:30.36] But they wanna play fat boy over here\n[00:33.13] What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:35.68] Come on, come on (Take money)\n[00:37.93] Come on, come on (What's up)\n[00:41.17] First off, f- and the clique you claim\n[00:43.30] Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n[00:46.17] You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n[00:48.64] We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n[00:51.37] Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n[00:53.96] Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n[00:57.01] We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n[00:58.90] Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n[01:01.83] Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n[01:04.63] Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n[01:06.77] Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n[01:08.93] Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n[01:11.94] I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n[01:14.04] Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n[01:17.03] Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n[01:18.89] F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n[01:22.10] See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[01:24.29] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[01:26.97] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:29.17] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:31.33] N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n[01:34.54] Check this out\n[01:37.54] West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n[01:42.43] Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n[01:44.08] Biggie Smalls just got shot\n[01:46.68] Little Moo', pass the MAC\n[01:48.11] And let me hit him in his back\n[01:49.85] Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n[01:52.01] Little accident murderer\n[01:53.98] And I ain't never heard of ya\n[01:55.16] Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n[01:57.07] Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n[01:59.67] Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n[02:01.53] P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n[02:05.60] And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n[02:07.53] With the ready power\n[02:09.01] Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n[02:10.23] I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n[02:12.53] When you see 2Pac\n[02:14.65] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[02:17.44] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[02:19.51] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[02:20.76] Nigga, say what?\n[02:22.79] Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n[02:25.57] This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n[02:27.79] With your mouths open\n[02:29.17] Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n[02:31.75] Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n[02:33.58] N- think they learned to fly\n[02:34.84] But they burn, you deserve to die\n[02:36.32] Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n[02:39.32] All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n[02:41.78] I'm a self-made millionaire\n[02:43.57] Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n[02:45.74] Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n[02:50.16] And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n[02:52.05] Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n[02:54.75] Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n[02:57.20] Now I'm back to set the record straight\n[02:59.47] With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n[03:02.12] I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n[03:05.48] No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n[03:07.63] Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n[03:09.89] I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n[03:12.71] Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n[03:15.64] Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n[03:17.73] What the, is you stupid\n[03:19.12] I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n[03:21.56] With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n[03:23.46] With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n[03:25.56] Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n[03:27.51] And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n[03:29.97] All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n[03:32.73] You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n[03:35.20] I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n[03:38.03] Softer than Alize with a chaser\n[03:40.13] About to get murdered for the paper\n[03:41.78] E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n[03:43.89] Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n[03:46.01] Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n[03:47.92] Better be knowin'\n[03:50.43] We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n[03:52.33] No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n[03:54.41] I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n[03:57.10] I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n[04:02.66] We hit 'em up\n[04:03.87] Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n[04:05.85] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[04:08.12] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[04:10.48] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[04:12.91] Hit 'em up, that's right!\n[04:14.53] (Take money, take money)\n[04:15.54] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Hit 'Em Up\n artist: 2Pac\n album: 2Pac Videos\n duration_ms: 313000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n start_ms: 1370\n end_ms: 5580\n- text: Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n start_ms: 5580\n end_ms: 13350\n- text: Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n start_ms: 13350\n end_ms: 18380\n- text: (I think they do)\n start_ms: 18380\n end_ms: 19670\n- text: When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n start_ms: 19670\n end_ms: 22080\n- text: I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n start_ms: 22080\n end_ms: 23830\n- text: When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n start_ms: 23830\n end_ms: 25230\n- text: They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n start_ms: 25230\n end_ms: 28480\n- text: They don't wanna play my song\n start_ms: 28480\n end_ms: 30360\n- text: But they wanna play fat boy over here\n start_ms: 30360\n end_ms: 33130\n- text: What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 33130\n end_ms: 35680\n- text: Come on, come on (Take money)\n start_ms: 35680\n end_ms: 37930\n- text: Come on, come on (What's up)\n start_ms: 37930\n end_ms: 41170\n- text: First off, f- and the clique you claim\n start_ms: 41170\n end_ms: 43300\n- text: Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n start_ms: 43300\n end_ms: 46170\n- text: You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n start_ms: 46170\n end_ms: 48640\n- text: We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n start_ms: 48640\n end_ms: 51370\n- text: Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n start_ms: 51370\n end_ms: 53960\n- text: Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n start_ms: 53960\n end_ms: 57010\n- text: We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n start_ms: 57010\n end_ms: 58900\n- text: Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n start_ms: 58900\n end_ms: 61830\n- text: Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n start_ms: 61830\n end_ms: 64630\n- text: Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n start_ms: 64630\n end_ms: 66770\n- text: Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n start_ms: 66770\n end_ms: 68930\n- text: Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n start_ms: 68930\n end_ms: 71940\n- text: I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n start_ms: 71940\n end_ms: 74040\n- text: Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n start_ms: 74040\n end_ms: 77030\n- text: Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n start_ms: 77030\n end_ms: 78890\n- text: F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n start_ms: 78890\n end_ms: 82100\n- text: See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 82100\n end_ms: 84290\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 84290\n end_ms: 86970\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 86970\n end_ms: 89170\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 89170\n end_ms: 91330\n- text: N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n start_ms: 91330\n end_ms: 94540\n- text: Check this out\n start_ms: 94540\n end_ms: 97540\n- text: West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n start_ms: 97540\n end_ms: 102430\n- text: Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n start_ms: 102430\n end_ms: 104080\n- text: Biggie Smalls just got shot\n start_ms: 104080\n end_ms: 106680\n- text: Little Moo', pass the MAC\n start_ms: 106680\n end_ms: 108110\n- text: And let me hit him in his back\n start_ms: 108110\n end_ms: 109850\n- text: Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n start_ms: 109850\n end_ms: 112010\n- text: Little accident murderer\n start_ms: 112010\n end_ms: 113980\n- text: And I ain't never heard of ya\n start_ms: 113980\n end_ms: 115160\n- text: Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n start_ms: 115160\n end_ms: 117070\n- text: Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n start_ms: 117070\n end_ms: 119670\n- text: Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n start_ms: 119670\n end_ms: 121530\n- text: P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n start_ms: 121530\n end_ms: 125600\n- text: And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n start_ms: 125600\n end_ms: 127530\n- text: With the ready power\n start_ms: 127530\n end_ms: 129010\n- text: Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n start_ms: 129010\n end_ms: 130230\n- text: I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 130230\n end_ms: 132530\n- text: When you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 132530\n end_ms: 134650\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 134650\n end_ms: 137440\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 137440\n end_ms: 139510\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 139510\n end_ms: 140760\n- text: Nigga, say what?\n start_ms: 140760\n end_ms: 142790\n- text: Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n start_ms: 142790\n end_ms: 145570\n- text: This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n start_ms: 145570\n end_ms: 147790\n- text: With your mouths open\n start_ms: 147790\n end_ms: 149170\n- text: Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n start_ms: 149170\n end_ms: 151750\n- text: Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n start_ms: 151750\n end_ms: 153580\n- text: N- think they learned to fly\n start_ms: 153580\n end_ms: 154840\n- text: But they burn, you deserve to die\n start_ms: 154840\n end_ms: 156320\n- text: Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n start_ms: 156320\n end_ms: 159320\n- text: All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n start_ms: 159320\n end_ms: 161780\n- text: I'm a self-made millionaire\n start_ms: 161780\n end_ms: 163570\n- text: Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n start_ms: 163570\n end_ms: 165740\n- text: Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n start_ms: 165740\n end_ms: 170160\n- text: And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n start_ms: 170160\n end_ms: 172050\n- text: Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n start_ms: 172050\n end_ms: 174750\n- text: Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n start_ms: 174750\n end_ms: 177200\n- text: Now I'm back to set the record straight\n start_ms: 177200\n end_ms: 179470\n- text: With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n start_ms: 179470\n end_ms: 182120\n- text: I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n start_ms: 182120\n end_ms: 185480\n- text: No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n start_ms: 185480\n end_ms: 187630\n- text: 'Now go check the scenario: Lil'' Cease'\n start_ms: 187630\n end_ms: 189890\n- text: I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n start_ms: 189890\n end_ms: 192710\n- text: Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n start_ms: 192710\n end_ms: 195640\n- text: Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n start_ms: 195640\n end_ms: 197730\n- text: What the, is you stupid\n start_ms: 197730\n end_ms: 199120\n- text: I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n start_ms: 199120\n end_ms: 201560\n- text: With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n start_ms: 201560\n end_ms: 203460\n- text: With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n start_ms: 203460\n end_ms: 205560\n- text: Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n start_ms: 205560\n end_ms: 207510\n- text: And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n start_ms: 207510\n end_ms: 209970\n- text: All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n start_ms: 209970\n end_ms: 212730\n- text: You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n start_ms: 212730\n end_ms: 215200\n- text: I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n start_ms: 215200\n end_ms: 218030\n- text: Softer than Alize with a chaser\n start_ms: 218030\n end_ms: 220130\n- text: About to get murdered for the paper\n start_ms: 220130\n end_ms: 221780\n- text: E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n start_ms: 221780\n end_ms: 223890\n- text: Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n start_ms: 223890\n end_ms: 226010\n- text: Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n start_ms: 226010\n end_ms: 227920\n- text: Better be knowin'\n start_ms: 227920\n end_ms: 230430\n- text: We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n start_ms: 230430\n end_ms: 232330\n- text: No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n start_ms: 232330\n end_ms: 234410\n- text: I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n start_ms: 234410\n end_ms: 237100\n- text: I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n start_ms: 237100\n end_ms: 242660\n- text: We hit 'em up\n start_ms: 242660\n end_ms: 243870\n- text: Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n start_ms: 243870\n end_ms: 245850\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 245850\n end_ms: 248120\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 248120\n end_ms: 250480\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 250480\n end_ms: 252910\n- text: Hit 'em up, that's right!\n start_ms: 252910\n end_ms: 254530\n- text: (Take money, take money)\n start_ms: 254530\n end_ms: 255540\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 255540\nplain: |-\n We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America)\n Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again)\n Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song\n (I think they do)\n\n When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy\n I want all the West Coast people to give up some love\n When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy)\n They tried to ban this song (Everybody)\n\n They don't wanna play my song\n But they wanna play fat boy over here\n What? Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (Take money)\n Come on, come on (What's up)\n\n First off, f- and the clique you claim\n Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife\n We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- for life\n\n Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n We keep on comin' while we runnin' for your jewels\n Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules\n\n Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's\n Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace\n\n I'll let them n- know it's on for life\n Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha)\n Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n F- with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\n See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey\n\n Check this out\n West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me\n\n Get out the way yo, get out the way yo\n Biggie Smalls just got shot\n Little Moo', pass the MAC\n And let me hit him in his back\n\n Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps\n Little accident murderer\n And I ain't never heard of ya\n Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya\n\n Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint\n P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n-\n And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n-\n\n With the ready power\n Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\n When you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, say what?\n\n Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed\n With your mouths open\n Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin'\n\n Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high\n N- think they learned to fly\n But they burn, you deserve to die\n Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me\n\n All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me?\n I'm a self-made millionaire\n Thug livin', out of prison, pistols in the air (ha ha)\n Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n\n And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n Now I'm back to set the record straight\n\n With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n\n I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs\n Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease\n I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro\n\n Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up\n What the, is you stupid\n I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n\n With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block\n With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch\n And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\n You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker\n Softer than Alize with a chaser\n About to get murdered for the paper\n\n E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke\n Better be knowin'\n We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'\n\n No need for hopin', it's a battle lost\n I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off\n I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah\n We hit 'em up\n Grab your glocks when you see Tupac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Hit 'em up, that's right!\n\n (Take money, take money)\n"},{"id":34988756,"name":"Hit 'Em Up - Single Version","trackName":"Hit 'Em Up - Single Version","artistName":"2Pac/Outlawz","albumName":"Hit 'Em Up - Single Version","duration":313.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Sucka-ass, I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends\nThat's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker\n(Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas\n(Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is\n(Take money) niggas, we bring it too\nThat's 'ight, ha-ha\n(Take money) ha-ha\n\nFirst off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claim\nWestside when we ride, come equipped with game\nYou claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife\nWe bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life\n\nPlus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\nBiggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\nWe keep on coming while we running for your jewels\nSteady gunning, keep on busting at them fools, you know the rules\n\nLil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\nCut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\nLil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's\nQuick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace\n\nI'll let them niggas know it's on for life\nDon't let the Westside ride tonight, ha-ha\nBad Boy murdered on wax and killed\nFuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\nSee, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace (uh)\nNigga, I hit 'em up\n\nCheck this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is\nI don't even know why I'm on this track\nY'all niggas ain't even on my level\nI'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it!\n\nGet out the way, yo, get out the way, yo\nBiggie Smalls just got dropped\nLittle Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back\nFrank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps\n\nLittle accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya\nPoisonous gats attack when I'm serving ya\nSpank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\nGuard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint\n\nPuffy weaker than the fucking block I'm running through, nigga\nAnd I'm smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga\nWith the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\nYour clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\nGrab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\nCall the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\nWho shot me? But you punks didn't finish\nNow you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\nNigga, we hit 'em up\n\nPeep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\nThis ain't no freestyle battle\nAll you niggas getting killed with your mouths open\nTryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping\nSmoking dope, it's like a sherm high\nNiggas think they learned to fly\nBut they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die\nTalking about you getting money, but it's funny to me\nAll you niggas living bummy while you fucking with me\n\nI'm a self-made millionaire\nThug living, out of prison, pistols in the air, ha-ha\nBiggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\nAnd beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\nNow it's all about Versace, you copied my style\nFive shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\nNow I'm back to set the record straight\nWith my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\nMotherfucker, I hit 'em up!\n\nI'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\nNo points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs\nNow go check the scenario, Lil Cease\nI'll bring you fake G's to your knees, copping pleas in de Janeiro\n\nLittle Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\nGet your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up\nWhat the fuck? Is you stupid?\nI take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\nWith my clique looting, shooting and polluting your block\n\nWith a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\nOutlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch\nAnd your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\nAll your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\nYou's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\nI'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit, but a faker\nSofter than Alizé with a chaser\nAbout to get murdered for the paper\nE.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n\nLike a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\nGun toting smoke, we ain't no motherfucking joke\nThug Life, niggas better be knowing\nWe approaching in the wide open, gun smoking\nNo need for hoping, it's a battle lost\nI got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off\nNigga, I hit 'em up\n\nNow you tell me who won\nI see them, they run, hahahaha\nThey don't wanna see us\nWhole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up tryna be us\nHow the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job?\nWe millionaires\nKilling ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it\n\nOh-yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us?\nYou little young-ass motherfuckers\nDon't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something?\nYou're fucking with me, nigga\nYou fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack\nYou better back the fuck up, 'fore you get smacked the fuck up\nThis is how we do it on our side\n\nAny of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it\nBut we ain't singing, we bringing drama\nFuck you and yo' motherfucking mama!\nWe gon' kill all you motherfuckers!\nNow when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie\nThen everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfucking opinion\n\nWell, this is how we gonna do this, fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!\nFuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfucking crew\nAnd if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too\nChino XL, fuck you too\nAll you motherfuckers, fuck you too\n(Take money, take money)\n\nAll of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow motherfucker\nMy .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!\nYou motherfuckers can't be us or see us\nWe motherfucking Thug Life ridas, Westside 'til we die!\nOut here in California, nigga, we warned ya\nWe'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!\n\nYou think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfucking mob!\nAin't nothing but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us\nOur shit goes triple and four-quadruple\nYou niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns in they motherfuckers belts\nYou know how it is, when we drop records, they felt\nYou niggas can't feel it, we the realest\nFuck 'em! We Bad Boy killas","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.06] Sucka-ass, I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends\n[00:01.76] That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker\n[00:03.95] (Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas\n[00:07.06] (Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is\n[00:08.92] (Take money) niggas, we bring it too\n[00:10.39] That's 'ight, ha-ha\n[00:11.73] (Take money) ha-ha\n[00:12.55] First off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claim\n[00:15.44] Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n[00:17.88] You claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife\n[00:20.53] We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life\n[00:23.02] Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n[00:25.34] Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n[00:28.40] We keep on coming while we running for your jewels\n[00:30.58] Steady gunning, keep on busting at them fools, you know the rules\n[00:33.37] Lil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n[00:35.42] Cut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n[00:38.53] Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's\n[00:40.52] Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace\n[00:43.41] I'll let them niggas know it's on for life\n[00:45.49] Don't let the Westside ride tonight, ha-ha\n[00:48.21] Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n[00:50.63] Fuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n[00:53.07] See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[00:56.15] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[00:58.82] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:00.72] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace (uh)\n[01:02.78] Nigga, I hit 'em up\n[01:03.99] Check this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is\n[01:06.00] I don't even know why I'm on this track\n[01:07.63] Y'all niggas ain't even on my level\n[01:09.06] I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it!\n[01:13.06] Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo\n[01:16.09] Biggie Smalls just got dropped\n[01:17.72] Little Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back\n[01:20.89] Frank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps\n[01:23.28] Little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya\n[01:26.16] Poisonous gats attack when I'm serving ya\n[01:28.43] Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n[01:31.13] Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint\n[01:33.54] Puffy weaker than the fucking block I'm running through, nigga\n[01:36.07] And I'm smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga\n[01:38.55] With the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n[01:41.29] Your clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n[01:44.08] Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n[01:46.73] Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n[01:49.16] Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n[01:51.10] Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n[01:53.17] Nigga, we hit 'em up\n[01:53.98] Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n[01:56.71] This ain't no freestyle battle\n[01:57.77] All you niggas getting killed with your mouths open\n[02:00.50] Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping\n[02:03.15] Smoking dope, it's like a sherm high\n[02:04.64] Niggas think they learned to fly\n[02:06.15] But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die\n[02:08.77] Talking about you getting money, but it's funny to me\n[02:11.27] All you niggas living bummy while you fucking with me\n[02:13.54] I'm a self-made millionaire\n[02:15.48] Thug living, out of prison, pistols in the air, ha-ha\n[02:18.68] Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n[02:21.28] And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n[02:23.93] Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n[02:26.33] Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n[02:28.88] Now I'm back to set the record straight\n[02:30.76] With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n[02:33.02] Motherfucker, I hit 'em up!\n[02:34.07] I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n[02:36.82] No points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs\n[02:39.17] Now go check the scenario, Lil Cease\n[02:41.00] I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, copping pleas in de Janeiro\n[02:44.17] Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n[02:46.33] Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up\n[02:48.46] What the fuck? Is you stupid?\n[02:49.86] I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n[02:52.11] With my clique looting, shooting and polluting your block\n[02:54.69] With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n[02:56.73] Outlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch\n[02:59.32] And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n[03:01.67] All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n[03:04.22] You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n[03:07.03] I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit, but a faker\n[03:09.54] Softer than Alizé with a chaser\n[03:11.23] About to get murdered for the paper\n[03:13.09] E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n[03:15.39] Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n[03:17.59] Gun toting smoke, we ain't no motherfucking joke\n[03:19.96] Thug Life, niggas better be knowing\n[03:21.86] We approaching in the wide open, gun smoking\n[03:24.23] No need for hoping, it's a battle lost\n[03:26.24] I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off\n[03:28.94] Nigga, I hit 'em up\n[03:30.92] Now you tell me who won\n[03:32.47] I see them, they run, hahahaha\n[03:34.78] They don't wanna see us\n[03:36.20] Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up tryna be us\n[03:39.24] How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job?\n[03:41.30] We millionaires\n[03:42.57] Killing ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it\n[03:44.56] Oh-yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us?\n[03:47.27] You little young-ass motherfuckers\n[03:48.97] Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something?\n[03:51.13] You're fucking with me, nigga\n[03:51.90] You fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack\n[03:53.83] You better back the fuck up, 'fore you get smacked the fuck up\n[03:56.40] This is how we do it on our side\n[03:58.12] Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it\n[04:00.23] But we ain't singing, we bringing drama\n[04:02.34] Fuck you and yo' motherfucking mama!\n[04:04.34] We gon' kill all you motherfuckers!\n[04:06.11] Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie\n[04:08.46] Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfucking opinion\n[04:11.28] Well, this is how we gonna do this, fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!\n[04:15.06] Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfucking crew\n[04:18.79] And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too\n[04:21.87] Chino XL, fuck you too\n[04:24.15] All you motherfuckers, fuck you too\n[04:26.38] (Take money, take money)\n[04:29.14] All of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow motherfucker\n[04:32.02] My .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!\n[04:34.82] You motherfuckers can't be us or see us\n[04:37.19] We motherfucking Thug Life ridas, Westside 'til we die!\n[04:40.57] Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya\n[04:42.64] We'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!\n[04:45.56] You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfucking mob!\n[04:47.85] Ain't nothing but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us\n[04:51.24] Our shit goes triple and four-quadruple\n[04:55.70] You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns in they motherfuckers belts\n[04:59.56] You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt\n[05:01.71] You niggas can't feel it, we the realest\n[05:03.77] Fuck 'em! We Bad Boy killas\n[05:05.06] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Hit 'Em Up - Single Version\n artist: 2Pac/Outlawz\n album: Hit 'Em Up - Single Version\n duration_ms: 313000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Sucka-ass, I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends\n start_ms: 60\n end_ms: 1760\n- text: That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker\n start_ms: 1760\n end_ms: 3950\n- text: (Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas\n start_ms: 3950\n end_ms: 7060\n- text: (Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is\n start_ms: 7060\n end_ms: 8920\n- text: (Take money) niggas, we bring it too\n start_ms: 8920\n end_ms: 10390\n- text: That's 'ight, ha-ha\n start_ms: 10390\n end_ms: 11730\n- text: (Take money) ha-ha\n start_ms: 11730\n end_ms: 12550\n- text: First off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claim\n start_ms: 12550\n end_ms: 15440\n- text: Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n start_ms: 15440\n end_ms: 17880\n- text: You claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife\n start_ms: 17880\n end_ms: 20530\n- text: We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life\n start_ms: 20530\n end_ms: 23020\n- text: Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n start_ms: 23020\n end_ms: 25340\n- text: Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n start_ms: 25340\n end_ms: 28400\n- text: We keep on coming while we running for your jewels\n start_ms: 28400\n end_ms: 30580\n- text: Steady gunning, keep on busting at them fools, you know the rules\n start_ms: 30580\n end_ms: 33370\n- text: Lil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n start_ms: 33370\n end_ms: 35420\n- text: Cut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n start_ms: 35420\n end_ms: 38530\n- text: Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's\n start_ms: 38530\n end_ms: 40520\n- text: Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace\n start_ms: 40520\n end_ms: 43410\n- text: I'll let them niggas know it's on for life\n start_ms: 43410\n end_ms: 45490\n- text: Don't let the Westside ride tonight, ha-ha\n start_ms: 45490\n end_ms: 48210\n- text: Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n start_ms: 48210\n end_ms: 50630\n- text: Fuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n start_ms: 50630\n end_ms: 53070\n- text: See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 53070\n end_ms: 56150\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 56150\n end_ms: 58820\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 58820\n end_ms: 60720\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace (uh)\n start_ms: 60720\n end_ms: 62780\n- text: Nigga, I hit 'em up\n start_ms: 62780\n end_ms: 63990\n- text: Check this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is\n start_ms: 63990\n end_ms: 66000\n- text: I don't even know why I'm on this track\n start_ms: 66000\n end_ms: 67630\n- text: Y'all niggas ain't even on my level\n start_ms: 67630\n end_ms: 69060\n- text: I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it!\n start_ms: 69060\n end_ms: 73060\n- text: Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo\n start_ms: 73060\n end_ms: 76090\n- text: Biggie Smalls just got dropped\n start_ms: 76090\n end_ms: 77720\n- text: Little Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back\n start_ms: 77720\n end_ms: 80890\n- text: Frank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps\n start_ms: 80890\n end_ms: 83280\n- text: Little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya\n start_ms: 83280\n end_ms: 86160\n- text: Poisonous gats attack when I'm serving ya\n start_ms: 86160\n end_ms: 88430\n- text: Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n start_ms: 88430\n end_ms: 91130\n- text: Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint\n start_ms: 91130\n end_ms: 93540\n- text: Puffy weaker than the fucking block I'm running through, nigga\n start_ms: 93540\n end_ms: 96070\n- text: And I'm smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga\n start_ms: 96070\n end_ms: 98550\n- text: With the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n start_ms: 98550\n end_ms: 101290\n- text: Your clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 101290\n end_ms: 104080\n- text: Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n start_ms: 104080\n end_ms: 106730\n- text: Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n start_ms: 106730\n end_ms: 109160\n- text: Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n start_ms: 109160\n end_ms: 111100\n- text: Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n start_ms: 111100\n end_ms: 113170\n- text: Nigga, we hit 'em up\n start_ms: 113170\n end_ms: 113980\n- text: Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n start_ms: 113980\n end_ms: 116710\n- text: This ain't no freestyle battle\n start_ms: 116710\n end_ms: 117770\n- text: All you niggas getting killed with your mouths open\n start_ms: 117770\n end_ms: 120500\n- text: Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping\n start_ms: 120500\n end_ms: 123150\n- text: Smoking dope, it's like a sherm high\n start_ms: 123150\n end_ms: 124640\n- text: Niggas think they learned to fly\n start_ms: 124640\n end_ms: 126150\n- text: But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die\n start_ms: 126150\n end_ms: 128770\n- text: Talking about you getting money, but it's funny to me\n start_ms: 128770\n end_ms: 131270\n- text: All you niggas living bummy while you fucking with me\n start_ms: 131270\n end_ms: 133540\n- text: I'm a self-made millionaire\n start_ms: 133540\n end_ms: 135480\n- text: Thug living, out of prison, pistols in the air, ha-ha\n start_ms: 135480\n end_ms: 138680\n- text: Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n start_ms: 138680\n end_ms: 141280\n- text: And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n start_ms: 141280\n end_ms: 143930\n- text: Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n start_ms: 143930\n end_ms: 146330\n- text: Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n start_ms: 146330\n end_ms: 148880\n- text: Now I'm back to set the record straight\n start_ms: 148880\n end_ms: 150760\n- text: With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n start_ms: 150760\n end_ms: 153020\n- text: Motherfucker, I hit 'em up!\n start_ms: 153020\n end_ms: 154070\n- text: I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n start_ms: 154070\n end_ms: 156820\n- text: No points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs\n start_ms: 156820\n end_ms: 159170\n- text: Now go check the scenario, Lil Cease\n start_ms: 159170\n end_ms: 161000\n- text: I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, copping pleas in de Janeiro\n start_ms: 161000\n end_ms: 164170\n- text: Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n start_ms: 164170\n end_ms: 166330\n- text: Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up\n start_ms: 166330\n end_ms: 168460\n- text: What the fuck? Is you stupid?\n start_ms: 168460\n end_ms: 169860\n- text: I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n start_ms: 169860\n end_ms: 172110\n- text: With my clique looting, shooting and polluting your block\n start_ms: 172110\n end_ms: 174690\n- text: With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n start_ms: 174690\n end_ms: 176730\n- text: Outlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch\n start_ms: 176730\n end_ms: 179320\n- text: And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n start_ms: 179320\n end_ms: 181670\n- text: All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n start_ms: 181670\n end_ms: 184220\n- text: You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n start_ms: 184220\n end_ms: 187030\n- text: I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit, but a faker\n start_ms: 187030\n end_ms: 189540\n- text: Softer than Alizé with a chaser\n start_ms: 189540\n end_ms: 191230\n- text: About to get murdered for the paper\n start_ms: 191230\n end_ms: 193090\n- text: E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n start_ms: 193090\n end_ms: 195390\n- text: Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n start_ms: 195390\n end_ms: 197590\n- text: Gun toting smoke, we ain't no motherfucking joke\n start_ms: 197590\n end_ms: 199960\n- text: Thug Life, niggas better be knowing\n start_ms: 199960\n end_ms: 201860\n- text: We approaching in the wide open, gun smoking\n start_ms: 201860\n end_ms: 204230\n- text: No need for hoping, it's a battle lost\n start_ms: 204230\n end_ms: 206240\n- text: I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off\n start_ms: 206240\n end_ms: 208940\n- text: Nigga, I hit 'em up\n start_ms: 208940\n end_ms: 210920\n- text: Now you tell me who won\n start_ms: 210920\n end_ms: 212470\n- text: I see them, they run, hahahaha\n start_ms: 212470\n end_ms: 214780\n- text: They don't wanna see us\n start_ms: 214780\n end_ms: 216200\n- text: Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up tryna be us\n start_ms: 216200\n end_ms: 219240\n- text: How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job?\n start_ms: 219240\n end_ms: 221300\n- text: We millionaires\n start_ms: 221300\n end_ms: 222570\n- text: Killing ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it\n start_ms: 222570\n end_ms: 224560\n- text: Oh-yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us?\n start_ms: 224560\n end_ms: 227270\n- text: You little young-ass motherfuckers\n start_ms: 227270\n end_ms: 228970\n- text: Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something?\n start_ms: 228970\n end_ms: 231130\n- text: You're fucking with me, nigga\n start_ms: 231130\n end_ms: 231900\n- text: You fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack\n start_ms: 231900\n end_ms: 233830\n- text: You better back the fuck up, 'fore you get smacked the fuck up\n start_ms: 233830\n end_ms: 236400\n- text: This is how we do it on our side\n start_ms: 236400\n end_ms: 238120\n- text: Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it\n start_ms: 238120\n end_ms: 240230\n- text: But we ain't singing, we bringing drama\n start_ms: 240230\n end_ms: 242340\n- text: Fuck you and yo' motherfucking mama!\n start_ms: 242340\n end_ms: 244340\n- text: We gon' kill all you motherfuckers!\n start_ms: 244340\n end_ms: 246110\n- text: Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie\n start_ms: 246110\n end_ms: 248460\n- text: Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfucking opinion\n start_ms: 248460\n end_ms: 251280\n- text: Well, this is how we gonna do this, fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!\n start_ms: 251280\n end_ms: 255060\n- text: Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfucking crew\n start_ms: 255060\n end_ms: 258790\n- text: And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too\n start_ms: 258790\n end_ms: 261870\n- text: Chino XL, fuck you too\n start_ms: 261870\n end_ms: 264150\n- text: All you motherfuckers, fuck you too\n start_ms: 264150\n end_ms: 266380\n- text: (Take money, take money)\n start_ms: 266380\n end_ms: 269140\n- text: All of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow motherfucker\n start_ms: 269140\n end_ms: 272020\n- text: My .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!\n start_ms: 272020\n end_ms: 274820\n- text: You motherfuckers can't be us or see us\n start_ms: 274820\n end_ms: 277190\n- text: We motherfucking Thug Life ridas, Westside 'til we die!\n start_ms: 277190\n end_ms: 280570\n- text: Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya\n start_ms: 280570\n end_ms: 282640\n- text: We'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!\n start_ms: 282640\n end_ms: 285560\n- text: You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfucking mob!\n start_ms: 285560\n end_ms: 287850\n- text: Ain't nothing but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us\n start_ms: 287850\n end_ms: 291240\n- text: Our shit goes triple and four-quadruple\n start_ms: 291240\n end_ms: 295700\n- text: You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns in they motherfuckers belts\n start_ms: 295700\n end_ms: 299560\n- text: You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt\n start_ms: 299560\n end_ms: 301710\n- text: You niggas can't feel it, we the realest\n start_ms: 301710\n end_ms: 303770\n- text: Fuck 'em! We Bad Boy killas\n start_ms: 303770\n end_ms: 305060\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 305060\nplain: |-\n Sucka-ass, I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends\n That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker\n (Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas\n (Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is\n (Take money) niggas, we bring it too\n That's 'ight, ha-ha\n (Take money) ha-ha\n\n First off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claim\n Westside when we ride, come equipped with game\n You claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife\n We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life\n\n Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip\n Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches\n We keep on coming while we running for your jewels\n Steady gunning, keep on busting at them fools, you know the rules\n\n Lil Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya\n Cut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased\n Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's\n Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace\n\n I'll let them niggas know it's on for life\n Don't let the Westside ride tonight, ha-ha\n Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed\n Fuck with me and get yo' caps peeled, you know\n\n See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace (uh)\n Nigga, I hit 'em up\n\n Check this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is\n I don't even know why I'm on this track\n Y'all niggas ain't even on my level\n I'ma let my lil' homies ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it!\n\n Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo\n Biggie Smalls just got dropped\n Little Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back\n Frank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps\n\n Little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard of ya\n Poisonous gats attack when I'm serving ya\n Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank\n Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint\n\n Puffy weaker than the fucking block I'm running through, nigga\n And I'm smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga\n With the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer\n Your clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up!\n\n Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac\n Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh\n Who shot me? But you punks didn't finish\n Now you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace\n Nigga, we hit 'em up\n\n Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel\n This ain't no freestyle battle\n All you niggas getting killed with your mouths open\n Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping\n Smoking dope, it's like a sherm high\n Niggas think they learned to fly\n But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die\n Talking about you getting money, but it's funny to me\n All you niggas living bummy while you fucking with me\n\n I'm a self-made millionaire\n Thug living, out of prison, pistols in the air, ha-ha\n Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch\n And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?\n Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style\n Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled\n Now I'm back to set the record straight\n With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate\n Motherfucker, I hit 'em up!\n\n I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs\n No points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs\n Now go check the scenario, Lil Cease\n I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, copping pleas in de Janeiro\n\n Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?\n Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up\n What the fuck? Is you stupid?\n I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn\n With my clique looting, shooting and polluting your block\n\n With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot\n Outlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch\n And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped\n All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked\n\n You's a beat biter, a Pac style taker\n I'll tell you to your face, you ain't shit, but a faker\n Softer than Alizé with a chaser\n About to get murdered for the paper\n E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper\n\n Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke\n Gun toting smoke, we ain't no motherfucking joke\n Thug Life, niggas better be knowing\n We approaching in the wide open, gun smoking\n No need for hoping, it's a battle lost\n I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off\n Nigga, I hit 'em up\n\n Now you tell me who won\n I see them, they run, hahahaha\n They don't wanna see us\n Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up tryna be us\n How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job?\n We millionaires\n Killing ain't fair, but somebody gotta do it\n\n Oh-yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us?\n You little young-ass motherfuckers\n Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something?\n You're fucking with me, nigga\n You fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack\n You better back the fuck up, 'fore you get smacked the fuck up\n This is how we do it on our side\n\n Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it\n But we ain't singing, we bringing drama\n Fuck you and yo' motherfucking mama!\n We gon' kill all you motherfuckers!\n Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie\n Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfucking opinion\n\n Well, this is how we gonna do this, fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!\n Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfucking crew\n And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too\n Chino XL, fuck you too\n All you motherfuckers, fuck you too\n (Take money, take money)\n\n All of y'all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow motherfucker\n My .44 make sho' all y'all kids don't grow!\n You motherfuckers can't be us or see us\n We motherfucking Thug Life ridas, Westside 'til we die!\n Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya\n We'll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!\n\n You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfucking mob!\n Ain't nothing but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us\n Our shit goes triple and four-quadruple\n You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got guns in they motherfuckers belts\n You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt\n You niggas can't feel it, we the realest\n Fuck 'em! We Bad Boy killas\n"}]