Tag: Death Row

2Pac – Die/Dumpin (Original Version) Lyrics

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[Intro]
Like this
Blastin’, dumpin’
Bitch

[Verse 1: Gonzoe]
I got my pistol cocked and my knife
‘Bout to slice this nigga windpipe
Throwin’ tops, swervin’ me on the dice
Nigga thought he was nice with the slickness
But the nigga I am, sham, just swift with the quickness (Mark ass bitch)
Respect the game, the lame niggas die slow
Hustlers fly straight like Frank feared Scarface
From the Glock, the lead waste
Diggin’ out your chest plate up straight
Trimmin’ you from your winge and hit the gate, I’m not waitin’
Thinking between and runnin’ on my escape
Hop on the 2-10 and wait for you to retaliate
The terrorist doin’ on niggas who we {​Glock cocked}​
Glock never miss, through your grill here goes my fist
When I slit yo’ wrist
With the the styles of ruckus south central
Los scandalous anybody get buckets uh (West side)
I’m doin’ niggas in the rap tussle
Rip out your backbone slow, you go to pieces like a puzzle
I’m hand on muzzles to you whack MC’s
Black fitted cap to the back with the Gap jeans to my knees
Niggas under siege, like Seagal they fall
To my tactics chin checkin’ in charge like chart, I want it all
The loot, the chronic, plus the dips
First nigga that flinches catch a bullet from my hip
In a rage, serving gauge with my Glock to your grill
Let the dump-dumps loose, now your brains is on the ceiling nigga

[Verse 2: 2Pac]
Murderous mindstate
Can’t keep my nine straight
Sippin’ on this hennessey
Waitin’ for the time to break
Show up and mothafuckas bow down, recognize
West Side, Death Row, outlaw riders
Untouchable mob of pistol packers
Well known felons labeled for drug sellin’ merciless jackers
Forever buzzed
Roll with thugs and dawgs
Commence to lettin’ off rounds
Then escape in the fog
Who wanna see me solo?
Catch Makaveli while he’s sleepin’
My mini-14 murderin’ niggas while they creepin’, Uhhh!
Duck or you ass out!
Drink ’til you pass out! (what)
Ain’t scared to die
Drunk drivin’ in my Glasshouse
Niggas is under me
They bitches come to me
They heard the stories nigga
Now they wanna really see
Bomb first, my motto, is fully guaranteed
Niggas is playahatas
Label them my enemies then dumpin’

[Refrain 1: 2Pac]
Look out young nigga!
‘Cause it’s time to dump
I’m versatile ,mothafuckas
What type of rhyme you want?
Niggas got me in they sight
Now I’m runnin’ for my life
Tell me!
What’s that, West Side like?
West side!

[Verse 3: Kurupt]
I’m all about the paper chase ’cause the paper makes life so great
Plus, haste makes waste
And I gots the whole spot lock down, concoct styles
Catch me rollin’ all the fuck around with the top down (Nigga, what?)
Realest with the microphone
Most murder masher verbal disaster
Creator, 38 stasher
In the inner zone where the hellraiser roam
There is not place like home, TEC-9s and chromes
Got the heater sequence for the heat to the disperse
Just in case worse come worst, I dumps first
So pump curt curse, it’s the curse of the pump pump
The one to dump last is the first to get slumped
It’s the mental temptation, mental assassination
My heart skips a beat for the heat sensation
I’m death-defying, bitches lyin’ sayin’ I ain’t cute
Now she wants an autograph (Hey, give me an autograph) Bitch, I ain’t Snoop (What?)

[Verse 4: Scarlo]
One bone bitch ready to go for broke
Hittin’ up your marks with my motherfuckin’ 4
I’m comin’ up about the Hills so feel I’m ready for the static
And niggas on my team is the full flesh automatic
Planting all you hoes in your motherfuckin’ place
A bitch named Scarlo is steppin’ up in your face
I’m dustin’ off you chumps with the .44 slugs
And livin’ from the lichter bro I’m ready to pull your plug
So, nigga, you wanna jump? You gotta jump little higher
Scarlo, nigga, the miss messiah
So bitch you better get a grip on gangs
You fuckin’ with the hillside, mentally insane
Point of no return and now my life is on the edge
Believin’ in my misery I fucked her in the yeah
Giuseppe called me up and told me so
I gotta do a mission on my ass I gotta go
‘Cause you can run, hide (Hide)
But I’m gonna getcha when tryna escape
You know my gat won’t letcha run, hide
But I’m gonna getcha when tryna escape
You know my gat won’t letcha
West side for life
Biaaaaaatch!

[Refrain 2: 2Pac]
I’m dumpin’
Empty my gun
It’s time to run
‘Cause here come the cops
I’ll be duckin’ ’em for blocks
Nigga I’m dumpin’
Empty my clip
Forever bustin’
East Coast nigga rushin’
Mothafucka, I’ll be dumpin’

[Verse 5: Nutt-So]
Killer!
Loaded them things, nigga, it’s time to dump
Sneakin’ on niggas that be sleepin’ when they ass in the trunk
You slipped, then got crept on, now it’s ride time
To the hills where niggas kill and peel your shit on skyline
It’s die time, and can’t any niggas save g
So kneel to your fuckin’ knees and feel this 45 fade you
Aimin’ for heads, pumpin’ lead ’til I bury you
Niggas be duckin’ but I swingin’ low like chariot
No love, pumpin’ slugs like I’m servin’ dogs
Buck buck, now tell your dead homies I said, “What’s up?”
Lullaby, rock-a-bye, nigga die
And rest in piece, eternal pain from this fire
My 45 smoked and broke ya
And nothin’ hurt like a dick with his liquid, in his eyes wide open
Gats smokin’ no jokin’, Bullets to me
Deleted soul from his core, as he lay, as I was dumpin’

2Pac – Secretz Of War (Original Rules Version) Lyrics

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[Intro: 2Pac]
Secrets of war
Get your pen and pads out, you lil’ young ass muthafuckas
Alright now, Fatal-n-Felony, you know what time it is
Kingpin Kurupt, with ‘Pac
Put your hands on ya, hands ya
Get y’all niggas up
Roll with the secrets now
Secrets of war
Put your hands on ya, hands on ya
Time to roll with the secrets now
Secrets of war
Put your hands on ya, hands on ya
Peep it
Check it

[Verse 1: 2Pac]
My melody is music that’s corrupt as a felony
Lethal weapon rebelling, so dope that niggas inhaling me, uh!
Like Sun Tzu or Machiavelli, the secrets of war
The art of combat, bustin’ will never fail me
Now Rule 1: Follow yo’ enemies and peep his weakness
Constitute while he’s asleep and make the game deeper
Rule 2: Locate his crew, and peep the things they do
Now get some infra-red beams and waste them niggas too
Rule 3: Let’s find a place where they rest they head
You jealous bastards make caskets out ya comfy beds
Rule 4: Now peep the secrets of war
I got surveillance on muthafuckas beware of my forty-four
Rule 5: Right before you bustas die
Let you look me inside my eyes say ya good-byees
Then Rule 6: Witness the death of a trick
He was a coward from day one, and died like a bitch, see BIIATCH
Hahahahahaha

[Hook: 2Pac]
We bust, if we must, plus we handle business
If you jealous niggas fuck with us
(you know what time it is)
Secrets of war
We bust if we must, plus we handle business
If you jealous niggas fuck with us
(Put your hands on ya, hands on ya)
Secrets of war

[Verse 2: Hussein Fatal]
I diffuse troops with interviews and they metabolism
Sure mad and I’m snappin on rappers actin’ they stacks is wit’ ’em
Expose you like spades, who the fuck out they heart
I pull your projects apart and find more ism than narcs
We play parks and side streets, keepin’ it 9 to 5 B
Last week plan is jump to 21 jump street
Poisonous led, spread ya legs on the rake
Or I’m gettin’ mine feel about 29 that’s sittin’ on the ledge
This ain’t the place to creep, so don’t be practicin’
How to get my niggas on the block, when you think we sleep
No I don’t think ya know our styles, you ain’t got shit I wreck
Mechanic will have ’em empty like them 7th ave projects
You half way crooks, ya guys are scared to step foot and look fast
On the strength they can get hit up quick or their shit took fast
I smile, and I’ll commitin’ murder, money live
Pager 325, on some shit you never fuckin’ heard of

[Hook: 2Pac]
Here we go, secrets of war
We bust if we must, plus, we handle business
If you jealous niggas fuck with us
Secrets of war (y’all know what time it is)
We bust if we must, plus, we handle business
If you jealous niggas fuck with us
(Put your hands on ya, hands on ya)

[Verse 3: Yaki Kadafi]
Nowadays with all these fast cash tendencies
Yo straight up, they got me lookin’ eye to eye, with all my enemies
Spottin’ almost plottin’, claimin’ to be a fuckin’ friend of me
Triple connections, Two TECs sittin’ shot gun up in the Lexus
Ready to release some ripples in a nigga mid-section
With bullets that’s hollow, rules to follow crews get swallowed down wit’ the clowns
Get drowned like deuce deuce bottles
We clique gettin’ major, clappin’ glasses, spittin’ razors
It’s insane how I live, it’s unexplained cross behavior
Streets of war

[Hook: 2Pac]
We bust if we must, plus, we handle business
If you jealous niggas fuck with us
Secrets of war (y’all know what time it is)
We bust if we must, plus, we handle business
If you jealous niggas fuck with us
(Hands on ya, hands on ya)

[Verse 4: Kurupt]
I’ve seen it over, and over, no win sit-yay-tions
The end, the end of gladiations so now they facin’ (uh)
They faced with metaphoric phrases hysteria (uh huh)
Engages the death toll to spread like malaria
What I can cock and stop thoughts from circulatin’ through ya head
In the form of writer’s block and spread like a plague (hm)
I break, batter and bruise neck, arms and legs
In my profession, my thoughts conceal weapons (uhh)
Gettin’ ready to drop the bomb like the B-1
Ya 145 pound rhymes and mines a 3 ton
Concoctions, mystic can spot the gator
Before ya get a dosage of the greatest rhyme creator
In this existence relax and explore the scene
I get this shit pumped the fuck up like morphine
And uh, and uh, and uh

[Outro: 2Pac]
Hahahahehehehe, be-itch
Secrets of muthafuckin’ war
(We bust, if we must, plus, jealous niggas fuck wit’ us)
Y’all don’t even understand it
(secrets of war, we bust if we must, plus, jealous niggas fuck wit’ us)
Secrets of war
And all you lil’ young ass souljahs
You play this shit back about 50 times
You’ll have enough game to roll up to the club or somethin’ (we thuggin’ be-itch)
Teach these bitches a lil’ somethin’, you know what I mean?
Secrets of muthafuckin’ war, live on Death Row, BITCH!
Hahahahahehehehehe
You niggas crazy
Well that was Kurupt
Fatal, Felony
And ‘Pac
That nigga Johnny J on the beat so
You know it’s thug life