two words chords and lyrics - HI-5

Lời & hợp âm

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