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Tupac - Strictly 4 My N.I.G.G.A.Z... Album Lyrics



Tupac - Strictly 4 My N.I.G.G.A.Z... Lyrics






Holler If Ya Hear Me

[ Featuring Live Squad ]

Aww yeah, uhh, uhh holla if ya hear me, yeah

Here we go, turn it up, let it start
From block to block we snatching
Hearts and jacking marks
And the punk police can't fade me and maybe
We can have peace someday, G
But right now I got my mind set up
Lookin' down the barrel of my nine, get up
'Cause it's time to make the payback fat
Tell my brothers on the
Block-better stay strapped, black
And accept no substitutes
I bring truth to the youth tear
The roof off the whole school
Oh no, I won't turn the other cheek
In case ya can't see when
We burned the other week
Now we got 'em in a smash, blast
How long will it last 'til
The po' get mo' cash until then, raise up!
Tell my young black males, blaze up!
Life's a mess don't stress, test
I'm givin' but be thankful
That you're livin', blessed
Much love to my brothers in the pen'
See ya when I free ya if
Not when they shove me in
Once again it's an all out strapped
Keep ya hands on ya gat
Now your boys watch ya back
'Cause in the alleys out in Cali I'ma tell ya
Mess with the best and the
Vest couldn't help ya
Scream, if ya feel me see it clearly?
You're too near me

Holler if ya hear me! "Hard"
"Tellin' you to hear it" "The rebel"

Pump ya fists like this holla if ya hear me
PUMP PUMP if you're pissed
To the sell-outs, livin' it up
One way or another you'll be givin' it up
Huh i guess 'cause I'm black born
I'm supposed to say peace, sing songs
And get capped on
But it's time for a new plan, BAM!
I'll be swingin' like a one man clan
Here we go, turn it up, don't stop
To my homies on the block
Gettin dropped by cops
I'm still around for ya
Keepin my sound underground for ya
And I'ma throw a change up
Quayle ain't do nothing but blow my name up!
Now my homies in the backstreets
The blackstreets
They feel me when they rollin'
In they fat jeeps
This ain't just a rap song, a black song
Tellin' all my brothers, get they strap on
And look for me in the struggle
Hustlin 'til other brothers bubble

Holler if ya hear me! "Hard"
"Tellin' you to hear it" "The rebel"

Will I quit, will I quit?
They claim that I'm violent, but still I keep
Representin', never give up on a good thing
Wouldn't stop it if we could
It's a hood thing
And now I'm like a major threat
'Cause I remind you of the things
You were made to forget
Bring the noise to all my boys
Know the real from the bustas and the decoys
And if ya hustle like a real G
Pump ya fist if ya feel me
Holla if ya hear me
Learn to survive in the nine-tre'
I make rhyme pay, others make crime pay
Whatever it takes to live and stand
'Cause nobody else'll give a damn
So we live like caged beasts
Waitin' for the day to let the rage free
Still me 'til they kill me
I love it when they fear me

Holler if ya hear me! "Hard"
"Tellin' you to hear it" "The rebel"
You're too near me, to see it clearly
Holler if ya hear me! "Hard"
"Tellin' you to hear it" "The rebel"
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Tupac Amaru Shakur, Kevin Rhames, Randy Walker, Christopher Walker, Barrett Strong, Norman Jesse Whitfield, George Jr. Clinton, Garry Marshall Shider, David Chung Spradley
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Word Collections Publishing




Pacs Theme

I was raised in this society so there's no way
You can expect me to be a
Perfect person cuz I'm a do what I'm a do.
(I am still thirsty) - Arrested
Development
(There is absolutly no reason for a record like this to be
Published.
It has no place in our society.) - Dan Quayle
(They gotta
Understand me)
(Withdraw on this record) - Dan Quayle
That's how I feel
I'm a do whatever I like. I am not a role model
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BUDDY GUY, DEON EVANS, JUNIOR WELLS, TUPAC AMARU SHAKUR
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG Rights Management, COHEN AND COHEN




Point The Finga

[1] "You could get the finger.. the middle!"
[2]"Come and get some!"

[Tupac]
Ahh yeah, they love to point the finger
[1] [2]

Boom boom boom on your black ass, bitch
[1] [2] Niggaz love to point the finga
Boom boom boom on your black ass, bitch
[1] [2]

[Tupac]
I thought I hit rock bottom, they ban my album, point the finga
I guess nobody loves a real nigga-slash-rap singer
I thought I'd bring a little truth to the young troops
I brought proof that the niggaz need guns too
It's not to be a racist, but let's face this:
wouldn't you if we could trade places?
I got lynched by some crooked cops, and to this day
them same motherf*ckers on the beat gettin major paid
But when I get my check they takin tax out
So, we payin for these pigs to knock the blacks out
Ain't that a bitch, some officers are gettin rich
Whoopin on thugs and robbin drug dealers for they shit
As far as jealousy, bein a celebrity
No matter who committed the crime, they all yell at me
And the media is greedier than most
You could sell em your soul or they'll be on ya til a niggaz ghost
And everyday I read the paper there's another lie
They show my picture for the crimes of another guy
Now how's that for the life of a big shot
A dead cop, a law suit, a little kid shot
I play them nuttin ass marks in the park
for tryin to earn they stripes in the dark
Just cause I come there, don't mean I from there, peep:
only jealous motherf*ckers beef, and point the finga

[Chorus: repeat 4X]

Boom boom boom on your black ass, bitch
[1] [2]

[Tupac]
As I run up on em madman, a nutcase with a screw loose
A zoot troupe full of foolies with toolies
Niggaz run to me don't come to me with beef
Take your jewels and your jeep, boom boom! Let that ass sleep
It's gettin hectic, niggaz run, quick
Buckshots are the payback for dumb shit
All you niggaz on the block tryin to test me
Best wear a vest or get open like, sesame
I'll run up on you mad deep; while you're tryin to sleep
I'm steady pumpin bullets in your sheets
Wake up, motherf*cker, don't stutter
Point blank by a nigga from the gutter, yeah!
Gimme mine, gimme mine, gimme, mine
Ban my rhymes, now I'm back to bustin, nines
And bustaz can't get none, hell no
A quick flurry and he's buried with a swelled jaw
I came up from the amateurs to pro hits
at 5-0, so you know I take no shit
And everybody wants to kill a bringer
of bad news, so they choose, to point the finga

[Chorus]

[Tupac]
One two three, peace to the real G's
Still me, til these motherf*ckers kill me
I bring skills and I build, kill at will
Smoke sess til I'm ill, still feel me?
I say one two three, peace to the real G's
Still me, til these motherf*ckers kill me
Pick it up, pick it up, give it up
Best to duck or get f*cked for your bucks
Scream one two three, peace to the real G's
Still me, til these motherf*ckers kill me
I can't give up, it's a black thang
And I ain't goin back to the crack game
(You can do it son; be a man and stand up or run)
Bitches, let em point the finga
(You can do it son; be a man and stand up or run)
Snitches, let em point the finga
Yo, one two three, peace to the real G's
Still me, til these motherf*ckers kill me
I guess nobody loves a rap singer
That's why these motherf*ckers.. (hahaha!) point the finga

[Chorus]

[Chorus]

[Chorus 3/4]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: WILLIAM EARL COLLINS, GEORGE CLINTON, DEON EVANS, TUPAC AMARU SHAKUR, GARRY MARSHALL SHIDER
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Something 2 Die 4

[laughter echoed]

I've changed...
You mothaf*ckas kill
Me
I've changed...

It ain't that i've changed
But it's strange how
You mothaf*ckas rearrange
When I found fame
Point ya finger at tha bad
Guy

You know what my momma usta tell me
If ya can't find something ta
Live 4

Then you BEST, find something ta die 4

(eazy saying 'if
There's hell below, we're all gonna
Go'--this is all through out tha
Interlude)

Deep deep

La'tasha Hardings
Remember that
Name...
Cause a bottle of juice...
Ain't something 2 die 4

Young
Quaid
Remember that name...
Cause all you mothaf*ckas
That go to your
Grave with that name on your brain
Cause jelousy and recklousness
Is NOT,
Something 2 die 4

All you Niggas out there
[echoed
Laughter]
Got a crack that crumbles
When I say all you Niggas (all you
Niggas)
Unite
One nigga, teach 2 niggas
4 niggas teach more
Niggas
All tha poor niggas
Tha penn niggas
Tha rich niggas
Tha
Strong niggas
UNITE

There's more of us than there is of them
Look
Around...
Check your strip

Deep deep

That's something 2 die
4

Black

That's something 2 live 4

What do I know?
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CURTIS MAYFIELD, DEON EVANS, TUPAC AMARU SHAKUR
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Last Wordz

(feat. Ice Cube, Ice-T)

Ice cube's in the mutha-f*ckin' house
the nigga you love to hate
Ice cube's in the mutha-f*ckin' house
the nigga you love to hate
Ice cube's in the mutha-f*ckin' house
the nigga you love to hate
Ice cube's in the mutha-f*ckin' house
the nigga you love to hate

[ICE CUBE]
Yo, here comes the nigga with the ruff, terror
the paranoid, gots to get the boy
Get your steel cuz I feel like a headbanger
Yah, I got a gang of shits, styles guns
my uzzie wieghts a mutha-f*ckin' ton
bucking down one, bucking down two,
bucking down your crew, mutha f*ck you
Pigs were blue, I where black, nothing but black
Cause god damn its a brand new payback
F*ck Pat Sajak, never did nothing for a nigga
on tha trigga the zigga the zag the nickel the bag
the nigga the sag the forty five mag. got you runnin' like a fag
So, keep your mutha-f*ckin' jokes
Cuz, I'm that nigga with a fresh pair of locs
No yokes but smokes
Crakers and them dirty mackers friends aren't jackers
get yah for your drawers, young niggas out to kill for cars

Ice T in the mutha f*ckin' house
Ice T in the mutha f*ckin' house
Ice T in the mutha f*ckin' house
Ice T in the mutha f*ckin' house
Ice T in the mutha f*ckin' house
Ice T in the mutha f*ckin' house

[Ice T]
O to the mutha f*ckin G I break crazy
a lot of niggas hate me but they can't fade me
Stop me clock me cops wanna glock me
mutha f*ck mutha f*ck pigs can't stop me
UHH, am I a G, I got proof
Banged in my youth, keep niggas on the roof
with a scope, dough, Cube keep the rope Tupac string a nigga up
(?Hit the mob dope?)
So whats up Punk
You want what I got step to me wrong f*ck around and get shot
Your moms crying f*ck her bust her
Bitch start screaming to me and I'll dust her
Pops got the LP phat, track on hit
Laid by the mutha f*ckin' Bobcat
Ninety three suckas want me to go out
Throw the hoe out, bitch mutha f*cker I'm rich

Tupac's in the mutha f*ckin' house
Tupac's in the mutha f*ckin' house
Tupac's in the mutha f*ckin' house
Tupac's in the mutha f*ckin' house
Tupac's in the mutha f*ckin' house

Got any last wordz

[Tupac]
Now they're after me, why? cuz a niggas black
Sit back
Ain't afraid to pull a triggar back
Let 'em come step to a real mutha-f*cker
[Boom, Boom] Mama ain't raised no suckers
Dan Quayle, don't you know you need to get your ass kicked
Where was you when there was niggas in the caskets?
Mutha-f*cker rednecks all the same
Feel a real nigga if he ain't balled and chained
That's why we burn shit and wreck
Cause the punk police ain't learned shit yet
You mutha-f*ckas gonna pay the price
Can't make a Black life, don't take a Black life
It's on, the next real nigga fall dead
Dred, jheri curl, process, or bald head
Be prepared for the smoke to bust
What niggas need to do is start loc'in up
United we stand divided we fall
They can shoot one nigga
But they can't take us alll
Let's get along with the Mexicans
And we can all have peace on the sets again
Imagine that if it took place [ha ha ha]
Keeping the smile off their white fakes
I ain't racist but lets trade places
Trace the hate 'n face it
One nigga teach two niggas
three teach four niggas
And them niggas teach more niggas
And when we blast
That'll be the biggest blast you've heard
And them is my last wordz
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: TUPAC AMARU SHAKUR, O'SHEA JACKSON, JAMES BANKS, EDDIE MARION, HENDERSON JR. THIGPEN, BOBBY F. ERVIN, TRACY LAUREN MARROW
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group, REACH MUSIC PUBLISHING




Souljahs Revenge

[dorky sounding white guy]
Mr. Shakur, can you please explain the meaning
behind your violent lyrics?

[Tupac]
Explain the meaning?
The f*ck these niggaz talkin bout?

[sounds of running and sirens in background]

[Kid]
Damn...
[Cop]
Police, FREEZE!
[Kid]
Can't get shit off!
[Cop]
I said FREEZE you miserable black son of a bitch!
[Kid]
What, come on, come on!

[gun shot]

[Pac]
Tupac Shakur as himself
[Soul]
Tupac Shakur as 'Souljah'

[Soul]
My attitude is shitty
My message to the censorship committee
Who's the biggest gang of niggaz in the city?
[Pac]
The critics or the cops?
[Soul]
The courts or the crooks, don't look so confused
Take a closer look
[Pac]
Niggaz get they neck broke daily
Tryin to stay jail free
[Soul]
What the f*ck does Quayle know
of young black males?
[both]
Please tell me
[Soul]
Message to the censorship committee
Who's the biggest gang of niggaz in the city?
[Pac]
Huh, I pack a nine millimeter cause I got em livin hotter
than the 4th of July, if I gotta die, I gotta
[Soul]
Momma told me, "Don't let em fade me..
.. nigga don't let em make you crazy!"
Game is what she gave me
[Pac]
Gotta watch your back, strapped
[Soul]
Real niggaz rat-pack
[Pac]
If you get your ass taxed, bring a gat back
That's not the way we made it
[Soul]
That's just the way it is
[both]
Slangin rocks, in front of niggaz kids
[Pac]
I came up
My message to the censorship committee
Who's the biggest gang of niggaz in the city?
Cops pull me over, check my plates, but I'm legal
[Soul]
You couldn't get me, figure, "F*ck with a niggaz people"
[Pac]
They got me trapped, gat with the motherf*ckin hammer back
[Soul]
Cops on my back, just cause I'm black, SNAP
[Pac]
Now I'm guilty?
Message to the censorship committee
Who's the biggest gang of niggaz in the city?
[both]
All you punk police will never find peace
on the streets til the niggaz get a piece, f*ck em!
[Soul]
They kill you to control ya
(PAY) top dollar for your soul
[both]
Real niggaz don't fold, straight souljah!
[Pac]
Can't find peace on the streets
til the niggaz get a piece, f*ck police, hear them screamin
F*ck em! Can't find peace on the streets
til the niggaz get a piece, f*ck police, hear them screamin
(I hear ya!)
F*ck em! Can't find peace on the streets
til the niggaz get a piece, f*ck police, screamin
(I hear ya!)
F*ck em! Can't find peace on the streets
til the niggaz get a piece, f*ck police, screamin
(I hear ya!)
F*ck em! Can't find peace on the streets
til the niggaz get a piece, f*ck police (I hear ya!)
F*ck em! Can't find peace on the streets
til the niggaz get a piece, f*ck police (I hear ya!)
F*ck em! Can't find peace on the streets
til the niggaz get a piece, f*ck police (I hear ya!)
The niggaz scream f*ck em!
[Soul]
Motherf*ckin punk police (I hear ya!)
Thinkin they run the motherf*ckin streets
It's mo' niggaz than it's police
Think (I hear ya!)
One nigga, teach two niggaz
teach three niggaz, teach fo' niggaz (I hear ya!)
teach mo' niggaz, and we could run this shit!
[both]
I hear ya!

"They finally pulled me over and I laughed
Remember Rodney King and I blast on his punk ass" (I hear ya!)
[repeat 10 X with snips and scratches]
[Soul]
Souljah!
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: RAY CHARLES, BOBBY ERVIN, BOBBY F ERVIN, TUPAC AMARU SHAKUR
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group




Peep Game

(feat. Threat)

So what the f*ck you talkin about?! Aw, shit.
Goody, goody, gumdrops.
Nigaa, get your hoodie and your gun cocked.
Rock it till the drum stops.
Hip hop.
Even if my shit flip flop
It probably wouldn't stop.
Talk shit and get socked.
How ya hang em?
Know a realer nigga? You could bring him.
If I don't represent the shit,
I'll kick it.
We could sway him.
Huh. As if I know ya.
Then I could show ya.
But if I don't know, I gotta fo' fo' fo' ya.
So, so peep game
At point blank range.
The fame can't change what the game maintains.
Strange. Wind against the grain.
Aw shit. Flick or no flick I trips for no bitch.
Catch up on your pimpin.
I ain't simpin. I'm a dis her.
Couldn't be my sister if she actin like I missed her.
Tell me why they, tell me why they, tell me why they play me.
Don't these niggas know that neiter one of y'all can fade me.
I ain't big, I ain't buff, I ain't deisel.
But f*ck wit Tupac and pop goes the weisel.
Me and Threat made a bet on how many fellas
Would jack a motha f*ckin real nigga cuz they jealous.
They do it for the fame.
Explain. Insane. What's in a name? What's in a name?
Peep game.

[Chorus repeats]
Punk bitch, how ya like me now?
Can't f*ck around wit the funky style.
Put it together like a puzzle builder.
If Trenton don't get cha, pops gon' kill ya.

Killa Cali.
The state where they kill.
Down wit Oaktown? What's up homie, can I chill?
The bitches lookin funny.
Feel em at me. Feel em at me wit they minds on they heaven
Wit they .357.
-Where you at?
-On the freeway, deep in LA.
-OK, see you when get here loc.
-OK.
-Here I am. Here I am.
-Goddamn that was quick.
-Told ya I was comin. Who is that? Is that your woman?
-Na, that's just a hoochie looking for some juice.
-What's up my nigga? What ya know? A nigga got a little bigger.
That's all folks know.
Fat gold ropes.
Gotta keep a low key for my attack.
When I approach, I want the diamonds, the pearls.
The round the way girls.
Cuz baby got, baby got back out this world.
Would you give a fee? Never.
Fly like a feather.
Make more money than your father and your mother put together.
The game is to be sold, not to be told.
So buy it.
Can't afford it?
Low budget hoes gotta brother.
Peep game.

[Chorus repeats]

Don't sell out.
Get the hell out.
Cuz here I come.
Hit em with my bop gun.
They came and they blast.
We got witt they ass.
And oh, pop this vest and all the rest of that mess.
Comin through like Terminater 2.
Boost your crew cuz we ain't afraid of you.
You know what time it is wit me once the clock stike 3.
We goin coo-coo like Cocoa Puffs. Whooo eeii!!!

[Chorus repeats]

Time to get paid, time to get paid. Check.
Time to represent the west. On me: nuttin but a vest.
Got my hands on my glock, eyes on the prize.
First sucka jump, first sucka die.
Gimme mine, gimme mine, gimme mine like I told ya.
Hard as a boulder.
Motha f*ckin souja.
Boom bam boom!! It's a stick up.
Vice president Dan Quayle eat a dick up.
Peep game.

[Chorus repeats]

[Spoken by Tupac]
Punk motha f*cka.
F*ck all those motha f*ckas, they all can eat a motha f*ckin dick up.
Word up. F*ck the police. I don't give a f*ck.
Bobcat in this motha f*cka boy.
Big up! Big up! To the criminals.
F*ck em.

this is serious business.

Yeah, microphone mafia.
Tupac, Threat, Bobcat.
93 shot.
Yeah nigga, bitch.
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BOBBY F ERVIN, COREY D LLOYD, CURTIS MAYEFIELD, TUPAC AMARU SHAKUR
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group




Strugglin

(feat. Live Squad)

(Eat a dick up)
[Rakim] "Stick up, stick up, stick up kids...
still don't nothin move but the money"

[Verse One: Live Squad]

Strugglin, jugglin, got it to the black man
Eatin the scams like I was motherf*ckin Pac Man
Cops step off, you know the flavor
They fear the ruffneck niggaz with the lunatic behavior
And now we gotta eat, gotta make ends meet
Stabbin for a fee, it gets hard on the f*ckin streets
It's like a madness, f*ck making gravy
I rhyme and do crimes, cuz either way pays me
A little rough with a hardcore... theme
Couldn't rough something rougher in your... dreams
Mad rugged so you know we're gonna... rip
With that roughneck nigga named 2Pacalypse
Representing YG'z yo
Flip Stretch Homicide and my nigga Gambino
Seek and Po can't forget Money Bags
Stickin up spots and jumpin in Jags
Gotta get ahead and always stay bumblin
And always keep a hand on the gat
Cuz a niggaz straight strugglin

[Verse Two: Live Squad]

I used to be on tour, but now I'm sick of strugglin
I thought about bumpin, but mother-f*ck jugglin
I know it lasts longer, gets my pockets thicker
But I'd rather use my gun cause I get the money quicker, so bust it
Look as I cut the records hard to eject
A quick clip threw my body down uhh! it's another hit
I got energy to blast now you want the task here
Cuz of the light a motherf*cker shot that ass up
But rugged and rough is how I'm steppin
Mac is the weapon, and it's always kept in
Eye on the Mac cause the dogg got it goin on
If you come up steppin you'll be lit like a hick
So you better chill, cause I got too much money to get
A street thug in the motherf*ckin house, I'm strugglin
Get drunk but I don't think
I'm just in it for the money, don't be a punk snitch
When I yank up my gun, don't run don't bitch
Cause ya know if you do, you'll be layin in a ditch
You'll get your stupid ass blown out the frame
Cause I'm playing to win, and survive in the game
I'm strugglin

[Verse Three: Tupac]

Big up, big up, got him in the frame, bang
Ain't nothin changed set it off I let the brains hang
Guess who's back, to put niggaz on they back
Till I call back, niggaz runnin free better fall back
I'm fifty niggaz deep beat sleep
with a Mossberg wrapped in my seats
three deep in my Jeep chief run with the Young Gunz
Strugglin and strivin, that's how the dough come
Now get gunned by the one with the gun for the low goal
Throw a bolo so low when I flow yo
Much too high to read the signs, I'm blind
Clickin on the nine, out to get mine
I go big up, big up, gotta make the room, boom
Blowin motherf*ckers to the moon
Niggaz need to feel me a real G, home from the bumblin
See me on the block, strugglin
And rollin with the roughnecks nuff checks cashed
I get in niggaz ass, blast
Straight strugglin
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CHRISTOPHER WALKER, KEVIN RHAMES, RANDY WALKER, TUPAC AMARU SHAKUR
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Guess Whos Back

Guess who's back?

[Tupac]
Drop the drums, here it comes, only got
two minutes to bounce, and every second counts
Better press, wreck on your tech, here we go, set pass the Moet
My trickery's more slippery when wet
Wicked as I flip, don't trip, get a grip
It'll kick, if the bass line's thick, it's a hit
Everybody's got a mic now, its like a hobby
But more like a job, cause bootleggers tryin to rob me
And little man wants to be a rap, star
Make papes, hit skins, drive a fat car
It ain't easy, sleazy even
Deceivin those we, believe in
No benefits, just tricks and chicks
Knock a pig to pick, so here's a stick to lick
I shoot a gift, til there ain't none left
And if I find that the track sound def
I catch wreck till I lose my breath
That's how it goes in the land of broke
I dispose of those, rock shows, and collect my dough
Now I suppose I'm the bad guy, why?
I say, "Hi," and try to stay high
Life's a mess don't stress, test.. of givin
but be thankful that you're livin.. blessed
Guess who's back, comin back with the track supplied
by Special Ed and Ak, comin right and exact
I'm fightin it back, now snap, where they at?
When it's time to go to combat, guess who's back

[Chorus: repeat 4X]

[Special Ed] "Yes I'm back"
"Tupac is" .. back!!

[Tupac]
Drop the drums, here it comes, only got
one minute to bounce, and every second counts
I went from hustlin dicks, to makin hits, bustin flicks
Now I'm sure to be rich for ninety-six
I pull my 'capes on tapes, and make, papes
Trace the bass, to the tape with the baddest bass to date
I try to shake it but the pace is hard to break
Good thoughts I wait, cause they hate my black take
Yeah, it's on, and it's packed in the rap race
But if ya got a black face, its a rat race
I struggle to be rugged and raw, Dukes
Tryin to survive in the trials and lawsuits
Everybody wants to test me, WHY ME?
No lie, nuckas cried when they try me
Givin up the roughness, justice
I'ma bust as I'm rippin up 'nuff hits
And guess who's back? No longer trapped
Cause I snapped on the ones that held me back, feel the contact
Ride the track, get I grip as I flip
Ghetto wickedness I kick, guess who's back?

[Chorus 1.5X]

[cut 'n' scratched] "Yes I'm back, cause I never did front"
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: TUPAC SHAKUR, EDWARD "SPECIAL ED" ARCHER, AKSHUN, AL JACKSON, JR., ALBERT KING
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group




Representin 93

I got a head, but ain't no screws in it.

Roll up and get swoll up.
Hold up.
How ya gonna play me like a sunkin dunkin donut?
I ain't came a long way to get checked
So give me respect when I get wreck or get your motha f*ckin chimp
check.
Once again, it's your friend outta Oakland.
Hoping I rock the shit to get ya open.
Say your looking for some real shit.
Then catch a funkdified batch.
Like that!!
Oakland's on the map.
Tupac is on the big screen strivin.
Gotta love a nigga for survivin.
I wear alot of old schools jewels.
Look how the fools ??. Ooohh.
Stop lookin at me hard cuz your buffer.
But I'll just buck then bigger motha f*ckas.
Turnin men to suckas.
Niggas wanna start a little ruckus.
Better duck cuz I'll be poundin them motha f*ckas.
They wanna throw their hands up. Thats tight.
Hit em wit my eight. Never had shit left, right.
Then hit em wit the uppercut. Duck quick.
Shit outta luck. F*cked and stuck with that rough shit.
F*ck a pop song, f*ck video, f*ck Arsenio, f*ck the radio.
Do you hear me though?
Give a holla to my niggas in the pen.
And my murderous parteners wit their Mac 10's.
I represent the real cuz I'm ill, G.
Glock cocked and then they kill me.
I'm representin'.

Peace to Redman, Tretch, Vin Rock, K-G the great one
Mary J. Blidge, Pete Rock and sure you're late son.
Heavy D, CL Smooth, and Queen Latifah.
Too Short, Tony Toni Tone,
And the Special motha f*cka, Ed Lover, the Tribe, A Tribe Called Quest,
and
Jungle Brothas. Das Efx, EPMD, and Ice Cube.
House of Pain: funky blunted ass white dudes
Cypress Hill, yeah, the ill niggas.
Digital Underground: my real niggas.
Raw Fusion, all in house confusion.
Wickeder than most men: Spice 1 and Pooh Man.
TLC, Eric B rockin, then Scarface.
Stretch, Mad K-Low, pumpin the scars bass.
Thorough Heads, Poonannynans, the Click.
Mmmm. ???, Richie Rich.
Young Guns in the house pumpin the flava.
DJ Ditch for their behavior.
Off the head, my freestyle flow.
Just a couple of motha f*ckas that I know.
I'm strictly representin

1 motha f*cka, 2 motha f*cka, 3 motha f*ckas,
Damn, who did I forget?

I'm a soulja.
Daddy was a soulja.
Strong in the struggle.
Must contend so it's on.
Raised in a house full of bad motha f*ckas.
Mad motha f*ckas.
Never had so we grab from the stacked motha f*ckas.
Now they know me, the homies.
Raised by some crazed ass well payed OG's.
Ah shit!
Pulled up in a benzy, snatch.
The wheel as I peel out. Catch a cop's tail.
Rock shells hit. Raise a fist so they know to make a hit.
Can I flip it? I may get wicked as I rip it.
To get specific: If the shoe fits, then kick it.
It's for the gifted. Pump your fist if you wit it.
Here's your ticket to see Mr. Wicked rip shit.
Now they wanna maime me.
(Told ya)
All I wanted to be was a soulja.
Bang bang boogy it's stick up.
Quit now nigga, eat a dick up.
I
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: DWIGHT WYATT, JOSEPH ANTHONY CARTER, JOSEPH RONALD JR. SAYLES, KEVIN DELANCE SCOTT, TRUMAN JEFFERSON, TUPAC AMARU SHAKUR
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Keep Ya Head Up

[ Featuring Dave Hollister ]

Little somethin' for my godson Elijah and a little girl named Corin

Some say the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice
I say the darker the flesh then the deeper the roots
I give a holler to my sisters on welfare
Tupac cares, if don't nobody else care
And uh, I know they like to beat ya down a lot
When you come around the block, brothas clown a lot
But please don't cry, dry your eyes, never let up
Forgive but don't forget, girl, keep your head up
And when he tells you you ain't nuttin' don't believe him
And if he can't learn to love you, you should leave him
'Cause sista you don't need him
And I ain't tryin' to gas ya up, I just call 'em how I see 'em (you don't need him)
You know me makes me unhappy? (What's that?)
When brothas make babies
And leave a young mother to be a pappy (oh, yeah, yeah, yeah)
And since we all came from a woman
Got our name from a woman and our game from a woman (yeah, yeah)
I wonder why we take from our women
Why we rape our women, do we hate our women? (Why? Why?)
I think it's time to kill for our women (why? Why? Why? Why?)
Time to heal our women, be real to our women
And if we don't we'll have a race of babies
That will hate the ladies, that make the babies (oh, yeah, baby)
And since a man can't make one
He has no right to tell a woman when and where to create one
So will the real men get up
I know you're fed up ladies, but keep your head up

Keep ya head up, ooh, child, things are gonna get easier
Keep-keep ya head up, ooh, child, things'll get brighter (ohh)

Keep ya head up, ooh, child, things are gonna get easier
Keep-keep ya head up, ooh, child, things'll get brighter

Ayo, I remember Marvin Gaye, used to sing to me
He had me feelin' like black was the thing to be
And suddenly the ghetto didn't seem so tough
And though we had it rough, we always had enough
I huffed and puffed about my curfew and broke the rules
Ran with the local crew, and had a smoke or two
And I realize momma really paid the price
She nearly gave her life, to raise me right (oh, yeah)
And all I had to give her was my pipe dream (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Of how I'd rock the mic, and make it to the bright screen
I'm tryin' to make a dollar out of fifteen cents
It's hard to be legit and still pay your rent
And in the end it seems I'm headin' for the pen
I try and find my friends, but they're blowin' in the wind
Last night my buddy lost his whole family
It's gonna take the man in me to conquer this insanity (no, no, no, no)
It seems the rain'll never let up
I try to keep my head up, and still keep from gettin' wet up
You know, it's funny when it rains it pours
They got money for wars, but can't feed the poor
Said it ain't no hope for the youth and the truth is
It ain't no hope for the future
And then they wonder why we crazy
I blame my mother for turning my brother into a crack baby
We ain't meant to survive, 'cause it's a setup
And even though you're fed up
Huh, ya got to keep your head up

Keep ya head up, ooh, child, things are gonna get easier
Keep-keep ya head up, ooh, child, things'll get brighter (oh)

Keep ya head up, ooh, child, things are gonna get easier
Keep-keep ya head up, ooh, child, things'll get brighter

And uh
To all the ladies havin' babies on they own
I know it's kinda rough and you're feelin' all alone
Daddy's long gone and he left you by ya lonesome
Thank the Lord for my kids, even if nobody else want 'em (left you all by yourself)
'Cause I think we can make it, in fact, I'm sure
And if you fall, stand tall and comeback for more
'Cause ain't nothin' worse than when your son
Wants to know why his daddy don't love him no mo'
You can't complain you was dealt this
Hell of a hand without a man, feelin' helpless
Because there's too many things for you to deal with
Dying inside, but outside you're looking fearless
While the tears is rollin' down your cheeks
Ya steady hopin' things don't all down this week
'Cause if it did, you couldn't take it, and don't blame me
I was given this world I didn't make it
And now my son's gettin' older and older and cold
From havin' the world on his shoulders
While the rich kids is drivin' Benz
I'm still tryin' to hold on to my survivin' friends
And it's crazy, it seems it'll never let up, but
Please, you got to keep your head up
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Tupac Amaru Shakur, Roger Troutman, Stan Vincent, Daryl L. Anderson
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave




Strictly 4 My N.I.G.G.A.Z.

['Pac speaking]
Yo 'Law!
Is it cool if a nigga just get f*cked up for this one?
Yeah! Mr. F*ck-a-Cop is BACK..
and I still don't give a f*ck, yaknahmsayin?
Puffin on this indo.. in the studio with my partners out here
Pacific Heights in the house, know what I mean

[Tupac]
I was framed, so don't make the same mistake, nigga
You gotta learn how to shake the snakes, nigga
Cause the police love to break a nigga
Send em upstate cause they straight-up hate the niggaz
So what I do is get a crew of zoo niggaz
Straight fools into rules and do niggaz
And one-time had enough of me
I'm still raw so the law can't f*ck with me
They wanna send me to the pen, punk picture that
I stay strapped motherf*ckers better get your gat
It ain't easy bein me I can't take it
Life as a celebrity ain't everything they make it
And ever since the movies, these hoes try to do me
If they can't screw me, they find a way to sue me
Now can you picture me coolin, at a night club?
Nothin but love, but motherf*ckers wanna mean mug
Since I wear a lot of gold, they plot
Don't know what I got, and get shot with the hot ones
And aww yeah, I wanna feel guilty
but you punk motherf*ckers tried to milk me
You'll get smacked behind the hill with my phone on my pager
It's beepin while I cut you with my razor
I'm not violent, I'm petrified and nervous
I got no mercy for these niggaz tryin to serve us
But if you catch me outta pocket, then I'm got
You love to shoot a nigga but you scared to pop a cop
Now drop it

[Chorus: Tupac]

Strictly for my - strictly for my - strictly for my niggaz
Strictly for my - strictly for my - strictly for my niggaz
Strictly for my - strictly for my - strictly for my niggaz
Strictly for my niggaz makin G's

[Tupac]
Reflected and disrespected, plus I'm rejected
You're just another rapper, who swears he's makin records
That's what they said - whenever I would walk by
I never tripped though - always kept my head up high
Eventually, I knew that I would find my way
After the darkest night, always comes a brighter day
And some would say, that turned away is all you'll get
I just said, "bet," and never let 'em see me sweat
Cause in the end, I knew that I would have it all
while non-believers, were prayin for my downfall
And some would call, and tell me that they wish me well
but in my heart, I'm knowin that they wish me hell
Yo get a real job, rappin doesn't pay the rent
I hate the studio cause that's where all my money went
Never surrender, it's all about the faith you've got
Don't ever stop, just push it til you hit the top
And if you drop, at least you know you gave your all
Be true to you, and that way you can never fall
But beware, these backstabbers ain't no joke
Just like a rope, they hang on you until you're broke
And when you're broke, they move onto the next dope
And there you are, can't even pay your car, nope
And when you reminisce, thinkin how you got dissed
remember how it felt, and then remember this
Be true to you, believe that there's no one bigger
Cause they can all suck dick - it's strictly for my niggaz

[Chorus]

[Tupac]
(This is) This is for the critics if you live up
Pick up my shit or I'll be back doin stickups
I better see five stars next to my picture
If not, Tupac will cop the glock and come knockin to getcha
I told you once motherf*cker I'm a nut
Play me like a butt and you'll be bleedin when you're f*cked
Niggaz know what's up but they be tryin to hold me down
I'm comin outta Oaktown, bitch f*ck around
And it ain't where you from that makes you hardcore
Nigga it's the way you throw them thangs in the war
And to the marks that be talkin all that shit
Screamin out the next nigga's name like a bitch
And the niggaz that I ran into recently
The motherf*ckers at the club that pulled the piece on me
You little bitches shoulda pulled the f*ckin trigga
Now you live in fear of a heartless-ass nigga
Mr. Troublesome; niggaz tried to play me with the gat
but like Terminator nigga, I'll be back
Yeah! And I'll be back with a f*ckin army
You tried to harm me -- ruh-ring the alarm G!
Cause most motherf*ckers love to act up
without they backup, when they get jacked up they crack up
It's strictly for my niggaz at the show
so they know, not to play me like a ho (ho!!!)
Strictly for my...

[Chorus 3X continues afterwards, breaking into ad libs]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: DERRICK MCDOWELL, LARRY D. GOODMAN, TUPAC AMARU SHAKUR
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




The Streetz R Deathrow

Growing up as an inner city brotha
where every other had a pops and a motha
I was tha product of a heated lover
Nobody knew how deep it screwed me
and since my pops never knew me
my family didn't know what ta do with me
was I somebody they despise
curious look in they eyes
as if they wonder if i'm dead or alive
poor momma can't control me
quit tryin' ta save my soul, I wanna roll with my homies
a ticken timebomb
can't nobody fade me
packin' a 380
and fiendin' for my mercedes
suckers scatter
but it don't matter i'm a cool shot
punks drop from all tha buckshots tha fools got
i'm tired of being a nice guy
i've been poor all my life, but don't know quite why
so they label me a lunatic
could care less
death or success
is what I quest
cause i'm fearless
now tha streetz R Deathrow

[Chorus]

(cause i'll beat you down, like it ain't nothin')
tha streetz R Deathrow
(cause i'll beat you down, like it ain't nothin')
tha streetz R Deathrow

I just murdered a man, i'm even more stressed
wearin' a vest
hopein' that their aimin' at my chest
much too young to bite tha bullet
hand on tha trigga
I see my life before my eyes each time I pull it
I hope I live to be a man
must be part of some big plan to keep a brotha in tha state
penn
counting pennys over tha years
I'd done stacked many
proven wrong those
who swore i'd wouldn't live till twenty
now they gotta cope
since it's tha only thing I know
it's difficult to let it go
i'm startin' to loose my hair cause I worry
hustlin' to keep from gettin' buried
but now I gotta move away now
cause these suckers wanna spray where I lay down
my homie lost his family and snapped
shot up half tha block to bring them back
tha streetz R Deathrow

[Chorus]

(cause i'll beat you down, like it ain't nothin')
tha streetz R Deathrow
(cause i'll beat you down, like it ain't nothin')
tha streetz R Deathrow
(cause i'll beat you down, like it ain't nothin')
tha streetz R Deathrow
(cause i'll beat you down, like it ain't nothin')
(like it ain't nothin')

i'm dangerous
when drunk I only drink beer
gin makes me sin
unable to think clear
heneesee, makes me think my enemy is getting close
BOOM BOOM BOOM
got me shooting at a ghost
some call me crazy
but this is what you gave me
amongst tha babies, who raised up from tha slavery
I sport a vest and hit tha sess to kill tha stress
moved out west and I invest in all tha best
those who test will find a bullet in they chest
put ta rest
by a brotha who was hopeless
grow up broke on tha rope of insanity
how many pistols smoking coming from a broken family
i'm sick of being tired
sick of tha sirens, body bags, and tha gun firing
tell bush to push tha button cause i'm fed
tired of hearin' these voices in my head
tha streetz R Deathrow

[Chorus]

(cause i'll beat you down, like it ain't nothin')
tha streetz R Deathrow
(cause i'll beat you down, like it ain't nothin')
tha streetz R Deathrow
(cause i'll beat you down, like it ain't nothin')
tha streetz R Deathrow
(cause i'll beat you down, like it ain't nothin')
tha streetz R Deathrow
(cause i'll beat you down, like it ain't nothin')
this goes out to my partners in tha Live Squad (like it
ain't nothin')
and all my partners involved in that 187
watch your back...
(cause i'll beat you down, like it ain't nothin')
There got to be a better way...
(cause i'll beat you down, like it ain't nothin')
There's too many of us in tha cemetary
(cause i'll beat you down, like it ain't nothin')
come on, what we gonna do now
(cause i'll beat you down, like it ain't nothin')
tha streetz R Deathrow
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: TUPAC AMARU SHAKUR, KEVIN RHAMES, CHRISTOPHER WALKER, RANDY WALKER, SMEAD GHOING HUDMAN, BARRY EUGENE WHITE
Copyright: Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group




I Get Around

(feat. Money B, Shock G)

Aw yeah, I get around
Still clown with the Underground, when we come around
Stronger than ever

[Tupac]
Back to get wreck
All respect to those who break their neck to keep their hoes in check
Cause oh they sweat a brother majorly
And I don't know why, your girl keeps paging me
She tell me that she needs me, cries when she leaves me
And every time she sees me, she squeeze me, lady take it easy!
Hate to sound sleazy, but tease me, I don't want it if it's that easy
Ayo bust it, baby got a problem saying bye bye
Just another hazard of a fly guy
You ask why, don't matter, my pockets got fatter
Now everybody's looking for the latter
And ain't no need in being greedy
If you wanna see me dial the beeper number baby when you need me
And I'll be there in a jiffy
Don't be picky, just be happy with this quickie
But when you learn, you can't tie me down
Baby doll, check it out, I get around

What you mean you don't know? I get around
The Underground just don't stop for hoes, I get around
Still down with the Underground, I get around
Yeah, ayo Shock, let them hoes know

[Shock G]
Now you can tell from my everday fits, I ain't rich
So cease and desist with them tricks (tricks)
I'm just another black man caught up in the mix (mix)
Trying to make a dollar out of fifteen cents (A dime and a nickel)
Just cause I'm a freak don't mean that we could hit the sheets
Baby I can see, that you don't recognize me
I'm Shock G, the one who put the satin on your panties
Never knew a hooker that could share me, I get around

[Money B]
What's up love, how you doing? (All right)
Well I've been hanging sanging, trying to do my thang
Oh, you heard that I was banging
Your home girl you went to school with, that's cool
But did she tell you about her sister and your cousin? Thought I wasn't
See, weekends were made for Michelob
But it's a Monday, my day, so just let me hit it, yo
And don't mistake my statement for a clown
We can keep in the down low long as you know, that I get around

[Tupac]
2Pacalypse Now don't stop for hoes, I get around
Why I ain't call you? Ha ha, please

Finger tips on the hips as I dip, gotta get a tight grip, don't slip
Loose lips sink ships, it's a trip
I love the way she licks her lips, see me jocking
Put a little twist in her hips cause I'm watching
Conversations on the phone til the break of dawn
Now we all alone, why the lights on?
Turn 'em off, time to set it off, get you wet and soft
Something's on your mind, let it off
You don't know me, you just met me, you won't let me
Well if I couldn't have it (silly rabbit) why you sweating me?
It's a lot of real G's doing time
Cause a groupy bit the truth and told a lie
You picked the wrong guy baby if you're too fly
You need to hit the door, search for a new guy
Cause I only got one night in town
Break out or be clown, baby doll are you down?
I get around

[Shock G]
Round and round, round we go [Repeat 8x]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Shirley J. Murdock, Larry Troutman, Roger Troutman, Tupac Shakur, Gregory Jacobs, Ronald R. Brooks
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG Rights Management




Papaz Song

(feat. Wycked)

Daddy's home...

[Tupac]
Heh, so?
You say that like that means somethin to me
You've been gone a mighty long motherf*ckin time
for you to be comin home talkin that "daddy's home" shit (nigga)
We been gettin along fine just without you
Me, my brother, and my mother
So if you don't mind, you can step the F*CK off, POPS.. f*ck you!

[Tupac]
Had to play catch by myself, what a sorry sight
A pitiful plight, so I pray for a starry night
Please send me a pops before puberty
the things I wouldn't do to see a piece of family unity
Moms always work, I barely see her
I'm startin to get worried without a pops I'll grow to be her
It's a wonder they don't understand kids today
so when I pray, I pray I'll never grow to be that way
And I hope that he answers me
I heard God don't like ugly well take a look at my family
A different father every weekend
Before we get to meet him they break up before the week ends
I'm gettin sick of all the friendships
As soon as we kick it he done split and the whole shit ends quick
How can I be a man if there's no role model?
Strivin to save my soul I stay cold drinkin a forty bottle
I'm so sorry...

[Chorus]
I'm so sorry
for all this time (I'm so sorry)
for all this time
for all this time (don't lie)
I'm so sorry
for all this time (so, sorry)
for all this time
for all this time, so sorry baby!

[Wycked]
Moms had to entertain many men
Didn't wanna do it but it's time to pay the rent again
I'm gettin a bit older and I'm startin to be a bother
Moms can't stand me cause I'm lookin like my father
Should I stay or run away, tell me the answer
Moms ignores me and avoids me like cancer
Grow up rough and it's hard to understand stuff
Moms was tough cause his poppa wasn't man enough
Couldn't stand up to his own responsibilities
Instead of takin care of me, he'd rather live lavishly
That's why I'll never be a father;
unless you got the time it's a crime don't even bother
(That's when I started hatin the phony smiles
Said I was an only child)
Look at mama's lonely smile
It's hard for a son to see his mother cry
She only loves you, but has to f*ck with these other guys
I'm so sorry...

[Chorus]
I'm so sorry
for all this time
for all this time
for all this time
I'm so sorry
for all this time
for all this time (so sorry)
for all this time, so sorry baby!

[Tupac]
Man child in the promised land couldn't afford many heroes
Moms was the only one there my pops was a no-show
And ohh -I guess ya didn't know
that I would grow to be so strong
Lookin kinda pale, was it the ale oh pops was wrong
Where was the money that you said, you would send me
talked on the phone and you sounded so friendly
Ask about school and my welfare
but it's clear, you ain't sincere hey who the hell cares
You think I'm blind but this time I see you comin, Jack
You grabbed your coat, left us broke, now ain't no runnin back
Ask about my moms like you loved her from the start
Left her in the dark, she fell apart from a broken heart
So don't even start with that "wanna be your father" shit
Don't even bother with your dollars I don't need it
I'll bury moms like you left me all alone G
Now that that I finally found you, stay the F*ck away from me
You're so sorry..

[Chorus]
I'm so sorry (so sorry)
for all this time (so, so sorry)
for all this time (I'm so so sorry)
for all this time (f*ck that!)
I'm so sorry
for all this time (no)
for all this time (so sorry)
for all this time, so sorry baby!

[Tupac - impersonating his father]
I never meant to leave but I was wanted
Crossed too many people every house I'd touch was haunted
Had to watch the strangers every brother was in danger
If I was to keep you breathin, had to be out of range-a
Had to move, one to lost my name and pick the number
Made me watch my back I had no happy home to run to
Maybe it's my fault for being a father livin fast
But livin slow, mean half the dough, and you won't get no ass
Hindsight shows me it was wrong all along
I wanted to make some dough so you would grow to be so strong
It took a little longer than I thought
I slipped, got caught, and sent to jail by the courts
Now I'm doin time and I wish you'd understand
all I ever wanted was for you to be a man
and grow to be the type you was meant to be
Keep the war fightin by the writings that you sent to me
I'm so sorry...

[Chorus w/ variations til end]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: DEON EVANS, WILL JENNINGS, JOE SAMPLE, TUPAC AMARU SHAKUR
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG Rights Management




5 Deadly Venomz

(feat. Live Squad, Treach, Apache)

(Yeah hehehahaha, we goin platinum nigga! Plaahahatinum.)

Yeah, you got the Live Squad in this motherf*cker
We got my nigga Treach from Naughty by Nature in this motherf*cker
My nigga Apache up in this motherf*cker

[Verse One: Tupac]

My Mossberg goes boom, gimme room, can I catch it
Talkin quick and then I vic just tryin to keep from gettin blasted
I had enough I put a hit upon them bastards
Boo-yaa! Turned a snitch into a casket
Now they after me, prowling for a niggaz bucks
Time to see, who's the G, with the bigger nuts
Buck buck, big up and livin reckless
Niggaz with a death wish step in with a Tec and I'll wet this
Yeah this shit is hyper
Two to one I'm writing representing and I'm striking like a viper
Huh, I got my mind made up, I got my nine
Ring the alarm, and strong arm must run
Some niggaz need to feel me with a passion
I'm old fashioned, run up on me nigga and get blasted
With five deadly venomz

(Yeah 'Pac, f*ck that, still hittin em up with
that old deadly shit. Aiyyo Treach where you at?
Step up and hit they ass up with the wickedness.)

[Verse Two: Treach]

We come to hit you with a sock full of Brooklyn
to the Onyx of your nose, punk is funky like skunk blunts
Stunk like funk c*nt
I come to take you on a war rough and rugged route
And if another doubts I blow your f*ckin mother out
And that's the street scarred style
I shout I'm-de-MC-wit-de-nasty-mouf, and kick the bitch out
Sue me? I pay the lawyer for ya oh boy yeah
Plus my style's ten to twenty f*ckin pounds more
I take you quicker than a picture of a punk ya pickin shit
pickin pockets with a razor stoppin Russian rockets
Not shoplift, I'm liftin shop
Once you sound hot, cause if you ain't a perfect ten
my sign is stop!
It's twenty mother-crooked-f*ckin styles in em
Like women I did em I'm in for deadly ready venom

[Verse Three: Live Squad]

Yeah, as I take a puff I get rough, Big Mad
To put it on, can't none come tougher see
I'm down with the sound of the Squad hard, boom!
Breakin em down, I make em see their doom
Coming straight from the dome where I roam it's a job to
rob and steal and runnin from the coppers
Who hold a, boulder, turn the gun controller
Started from a punk now to be a high roller
Youngest, reckless, crazy, disaster
Mac-11 blaster, and I run faster
Than a lot of cops I can't be stopped till my head gets popped
A lot of f*ckin bodies will drop
It's a disaster, I'm coming for the blood splatter
I make you scatter, leavin trails of brains and bladders
Blowin em out the frame with no shame
Game tight, drop a body then get out of sight
Count my loot after I shoot, leave my kicks up and it's
something I don't wanna do, somethin that I never did
I try to get him, I think I hit em, I lit him
He's out! A poison, a deadly venom

(Yeah Mad, f*ck that! You know how we do.
KnowhatI'msayin? Squad in effect, YG'z in effect.
Now you know a nigga like me gotta represent)

[Verse Four: Live Squad]

Once again, back to rip shit, quick on the flip tip
The psycho, represent the real to take the mic flow
Deadly, rock a head G, check the melody
Niggaz can't touch me when I wreckin G you better flee
Cause I'm gifted with a jab and a forty-four Mag
So nigga flip or take a trip in a body bag
Uhh, boom you slipped up, now you're zipped up
Yeah one more statistic, fronted and got ripped up
No joke, you be yolk, no matter how it sound
We're taking over eight niggaz back to the stomping grounds
Line em up single file, dome runnin in em
A nigga hit em with the venom, the fourth deadly venom

(Nigga, yaknowhatI'msayin? F*ck that!
I told you, we takin over, yo 'Pac.)

[Verse Five: Tupac]

Five deadly venomz verse five be the livest
Strugglin and strive, keep a nine in my waistline
Take mine, you better bury me, G
Punk ass niggaz don't even worry me, see
I got a glock that say 'Pac run the block
F*ck the cops cause my gauge gets me... PAID
As I sit and reminesce about the old days
Hugging on my AK, f*ck getting played, hey
I say niggaz need to get they mind right
Until they do I pop a clip and grip my nine tight
Now it's on everday could be my last day
That's why I blast on they ass as I past let the glass spray
First you had a mouth full of fronts
Now you're mouth's full of chunks, Pac's out puffin blunts
Deadly venomz

(Hahaha, yeah pass that shit over here.
Apache bout to clean shit up.)

[Verse Six: Apache]

Throw up your middle finger! Start the track for the maniac
Only thing I'm givin out is black donuts and dirty backs
Let me tell how you rough I get
I pop shit behind your back get in your face and pop the same shit
You can't get in because my gate's bigger I'ma snake nigga
My act guards me so hard I pull the f*ckin trigger
I'm a section to clinch your porch is like a pinch
Test a rhyme I'll knock your hairline back an inch
F*ckin up pooh-butts, cut em like cold cuts
Choke em with my boot lace, then leave em hangin like old nuts
Clip up and move out, time to get em
That's the results of f*ckin with the fifth venom in denim

(Yeah, yaknowhatI'msayin?
Five motherf*ckin deadly venomz, in effect for ninety-three
ninety-four ninety-five all that other shit.
We takin this motherf*cker over this larger hit.
YaknowhatI'msayin? Follow us, come along. YaknowhatI'msayin?
We takin this motherf*cker over. TRUST. We out.)
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: APACHE, TREACH, CHRISTOPHER WALKER, KEVIN RHAMES, RANDY WALKER, TUPAC AMARU SHAKUR
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Back to: Tupac


Strictly 4 My N.I.G.G.A.Z... is the second solo studio album by American rapper 2Pac. It was released on February 16, 1993, via TNT Recordings and Interscope Records and distributed by Atlantic Records (CD edition) and Restless Records (LP). The recording sessions took place at Starlight Sound Studio in Richmond, Echo Sound Studio in Los Angeles and Unique Recording Studios in New York. The album was produced by the Underground Railroad and D-Flow Production Squad, as well as Live Squad, DJ Bobcat, DJ Daryl, Akshun, Laylaw, Special Ed, and Truman Jefferson. It features contributions from Live Squad, Apache, Dave Hollister, Deadly Threat, Digital Underground, Ice Cube, Ice-T, Poppi, Treach, and 2Pac's stepbrother Wycked among others.

Similar to 2Pacalypse Now, the album contains many tracks emphasising 2Pac's political and social views. Peaking at number 24 on the Billboard 200, this album saw more commercial success than its predecessor, and there are many noticeable differences in production. While 2Pac's first effort included a more underground or indie rap-oriented sound, this album was considered his breakout.

The album was supported with four singles: "Holler If Ya Hear Me", "I Get Around", "Keep Ya Head Up" and "Papa'z Song" with accompanying music videos.

In 1998 and 2003, the album was reissued through Amaru/Jive Records. In 2023, Interscope Records digitally reissued the album with six additional tracks subtitled 'Expanded Edition'.
Performed By: Tupac
Genre(s): Political hip hop, conscious rap
Length: 64:05
Released: February 16th, 1993
Year: 1993

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