Bizzy:
Well, it must be close to the Armageddon, Lord. Know that I won't fly by that lesson, you taught me to pull out my Wesson, you brought me, and I'm not stressin' it softly. Get ‘em up off me, ’cause all we wanted was harmony, been bombin' ‘em, yell up outta my ghetto, I won’t settle, get on my level. They can't stop me and pop me. Nigga, they got me? Fuck no. Little Pac gets schizophrenic, let's manage to damage all y'all. I'll talk about ‘em, and you don’t really want it, ‘cause they’re cornered, and I'm want ‘em to not jump. I’d rather say that we came to shut ‘em all down. So quick to test, bullet, yes, declare war. Roll, I’ll flow when I get the gun for the murda mo' horror, for why they did it all, pause for the cause, and I fin to pull a nine or pistol, a little nigga with mine. Fuck them niggas, it's on. All y'all fall. Bizzy gettin' bitches to test me, bless the floor, and any attempt to arrest me, stress me. Lord, lookin' at death, with the last of my breath. Follow, follow, my kids, no
w don't sin in my steps. Yet the weapon is kept with the best of my secrets, deep in the (leaves), I'm alone, nigga believe that I can see it, if needed, and if you really with me and well then let it be, get the greens and we runnin' up over Cleveland [Cleveland].
2Pac:
Ha, ha! What's poppin', nigga? Put your muthafuckin' hands on your strap, nigga. Thug luv, nigga. Yeah, we can do this like gangstas and slug it out, or do this like punks and punk it out. Pull your strap on me, nigga, you better kill me. Thug luv, nigga. Thug lfe, baby. Thug luv.
I probably be punished for hard livin', blind to the facts thugs is convicts in God's prison, hands on the strap. Prayin', so Father please forgive me. Police be rushin' when they see me. I flaunted America's Most Wanted live on T.V. Life: pleasure and pain, stuck in this game, holler my name. We all gon' die. We bleed through similar veins. Yous explain to me now. Don't panic when my guns burst. Heard the last jam, nigga? This one's worse. My nigga, Bone held the chrome ‘til I came home. Thug luv playas, tell these bitch niggas bring it on. I caught a plane out to Cleveland late last evenin’ to help my niggas clean up; some niggas no longer breathin'. Now, who do you believe in? Hit the weed and grieve. It's a cold ass world. Niggas kill you in your sleep. Watch me. Until they stop me, bury, murder me or drop me, I got thug luv for my nationwide posse. Feel me.
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