- Tupac All Songs Free Download
- 2pac Albums Download Free
- 2pac Songs Clean Version To Download Torrent Full
Tupac All Songs Free Download
An indispensable and definitive collection showcasing the passionate genius of the late rapper. The album's nonchronological sequence highlights the contradictory impulses that made Tupac's music so commanding; the 21 well-loved 'hits,' some slightly reedited for legal reasons, are accompanied by four previously unheard songs. Listen and Download California Love Clean mp3 - Up to date free California Love Clean songs by Mp3bearz.com. Dec 2, 2013 - Don't Stop The Music (Alternate Original Version). E.D.I Mean, Hussein. Don't Stop (Original Version). 2pac) DOWNLOAD.
2pac Albums Download Free
2pac Songs Clean Version To Download Torrent Full
(featuring Outlawz)
Intro: Tupac
I ain`t got no motherf**kin friends
That`s why I f**ked yo` b*tch, you fat motherf**ker
(take money) West side!!
Bad Boy killers
(take money) You know the realest is n*ggaz
(take money) We bring it to you
(take money)
Verse One: Tupac
First off, f**k your b*tch and the click you claim
West side when we ride come equipped with game
You claim to be a player but I f**ked your wife
We bust on Bad Boy n*ggaz f**ked for life
Plus Puffy tryin ta see me weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. some mark ass b*tches
We keep on comin` while we runnin for ya jewels
steady gunnin, keep on bustin at the fools, you know the rules
Little Ceaser, go ask ya homie how I leave ya
cut your young ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased
Lil Kim, don`t f**k around with real G`s
Quick to snatch yo` ugly ass off tha street, so f**k peace
I let them n*ggas know it`s on for life
Don`t let the West side ride tonight hahahah
Bad Boy murdered on wax, and killed
f**k wit` me and get ya caps peeled, you know ... see ...
Chorus:
Grab ya glocks, when you see Tupac
Call the cops, when you see Tupac, uhh
Who shot me, but ya punks didn`t finish
Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace
n*gga, I hit em` up...
Interlude: Tupac
Check this out, you muthaf**kas know what time it is
I don`t even know why I`m on this track
ya`ll nigguz ain`t even on my level
I`ma let my little homies ride on you
b*tch made-ass bad boy b*tches, feel it!
Verse Two:
Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
Biggie Smallz just got dropped
Little Moo, pass the Mac, and let me hit him in his back
Frank White need to get spanked right, for settin traps
little accident murderer, and I ain`t never heard-a ya
Poisinous gats attack when I`m servin ya
Spank the shank ya whole style when I gank
Guard your rank, cause I`ma slam you in the paint
Puffy weaker than a f**kin block i`m runnin through n*gga
and, I`m smokin ya junior mafia in front of you, n*gga
With the ready power tuckin my Guess under my Eddie Bauer
ya clout, pretty sour I get packages every hour
and hit em up
Chorus
Verse Three: Tupac
Peep how we do it, keep it real, it`s penitentiary steel
this aint no freestyle battle, all you n*ggaz gettin
killed with ya mouths open
tryin to come up offa me, you in the clouds OPEN`
smokin dope it`s like a sherm high
n*ggaz think they learned to fly
But they burned muthaf**ka, you deserve to die
Talkin bout you gettin money but its funny to me
all you n*ggaz living bummy why you f**kin with me?
I`m a self made milionare
Thug Livin out a prison, pistols in the air, hahaha
Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on THE couch
and beg the b*tch to let you sleep in the house, ahh
Now its all about Versacci, you copy my style
Five shots couldn`t drop me, I took it, and smiled
Now I`m bout to set the record straight, with my AK
I`m still the thug THAT you love to hate
Motherf**ker, I hit em up
Verse Four:
I`m from N-E-W Jerz, where plenty murders occur
No points to be calmer, we bringin drama to all you herbs
Knuckle check the scenario, Little Cease
I bring you fake G`s to your knees
Coppin pleas in De Janerio
Lil Kim, is you coked up, or doped up?
Get ya lil Junior Whopper click smoked up, what the f**k
is you STUPID?!?! I take money, crash and mashin through Brooklyn
with my click lootin, shootin and pollutin ya block
with 15 shots c*ck glock to your knot
Outlaw mafia click movin up another notch
And you bast stops squaws get mopped and dropped
All your fake-ass east coast props brainstormed and locked
Verse Four:
Youse a, beat biter, a Pac style taker
I`ll tell you to ya face you aint sh*t but a faker
Softer than Alize with a chaser
Bout to get murdered for the paper
Idi Amin approach the scene of da caper
Like a loc, with little ceaser in a choke hold
Totin smoke, we aint no muthaf**kin joke
Thug Life, n*ggaz betta be knowin, we approchin
in the wide open, guns smokin
no need for hopin its a battle lost, I got across
Soon as the funk was poppin off
n*gga I hit em up
Outro: Tupac
Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run
They don`t wanna see us
Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. click dressin up tryin ta be us
How the f**k they gonna be the mob when we always on our job
We millionaires, killin ain`t fair but somebody gotta do it
Oh yeah, Mobb Deep, you wanna f**k with us?
You little young ass motherf**kers
Don`t one of you n*ggaz got sickle cell or somethin?
You f**kin with me n*gga you f**k around
and have a seizure or a heart-attack
You better back the f**k up, fore you get smacked the f**k up
That`s how we do it on our side
Any of you n*ggaz from New York that wanna bring it bring it
But we ain`t singin, we bringin drama
f**k you and your motherf**kin mama
We gonna kill all you motherf**kers
Now when I came out I told you it was just about Biggie
Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherf**kin opinion
Well this how we gonna do this
f**k Mobb Deep
f**k Biggie
f**k Bad Boy as a staff record label
and as a motherf**kin crew
And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy
Then f**k you too
Chino XL, f**k you too
All you motherf**kers, f**k you too
(take money)
(take money)
Alla y`all motherf**kers, f**k you die slow motherf**ker
My fo`-fo` make sure all y`all kids don`t grow
You motherf**kers can`t be us or see us
We the motherf**kin Thug Life ridahs West side till we die!
Out here in California we warn ya we`ll bomb on you motherf**kers
We do our job
You think you mob, n*gga we the motherf**kin mob
Ain`t nuttin but killers and the real n*ggaz
All you motherf**kers feel us
Our sh*t`s going triple and four-quadruple
(take money)
You n*ggaz laugh cos our staff got guns in their
motherf**kers belts, you know how it is
When we drop records they felt
You n*ggaz can`t feel it
We the realist,f**k em we´re badboy killaz,killaz..