Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song All Out, artist - 2Pac. Album song Until The End Of Time, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2000
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Amaru Entertainment
Song language: English
All Out |
We goin all out, watch ya motherfuckin mouth niggaz |
(That's right, fuck these fag niggaz) |
Do it, do it, do it Come hell or high water, down to slaughter opposers |
Just another lost soul, stuck, callin Jehovah |
Outlaw 'til it’s over, brand as my strap |
Back like a cobra, I stay drunk, cause I’m a mad man |
Whenever sober, on a one man mission |
My ambition to hold up the rap game |
While I pluck holes in niggaz like donuts |
And still down to die for all my souljas |
Like hillbillies, they don’t fear me So refuse bringin war to the city |
With each breath, death before dishonor |
Never let you swallow me, no apologies, your honor |
A general in war, I’m the first to bomb |
With a squad of trusted killers, quick to move shit heavily armed |
I’m similar to Saddam, sometimes I question Hussein |
Like fiends frantic for that last vein, stuck in the game |
I hit the scene like sandstorms, then transform, watch me I take the figure of dirty niggaz, who all got me While bitches wonderin who shot me No love, keep a grudge, shootin sluggs like Muammar Quadaffi |
Murder my friends, build a new posse |
We takin shots at paparazzi, go and fly now, nigga like Rocky |
You got a lot of nerve to play me Another gay rapper, bustin caps to Jay-Z |
(buck buck buck buck buck buck) |
And still avoid capture, while y’all caught up in the rapture |
Still after me, I’m in Jamacia sippin daquiris, no doubt |
We used to havin nothin, then grabbin somethin and bustin |
Wanted to be the thug-nigga, that my old man wasn’t |
I came to a field, catchin cases, litigation |
Niggaz playa-hatin, got me crooked in all 50 states |
I’m screamin DEATH ROW, throw my WESTSIDE, ain’t no thang |
We was raised off drive-by's, brought up to bang |
We claim mob, M.O.B. |
if you be specific |
We control all cash from Atlantic-Pacific |
And get this, I’m hard to kill, when I peel with this live spot |
Father, how the hell did I survive, these five shots? |
Live it up, of give it up, and my demons |
Late night, hear them screamin; |
we goin all out! |
We goin all out, bomb first till they fall out |
Take them the war route, without a doubt |
Ball, which means we all ride if it’s on Each nigga handle ya own, bring it on strong |
If you got bills to pay, nigga go all out |
Bustas playin with ya peeps, betta go all out |
Try’na see the next day, nigga go all out |
Obstacles in ya way, you better go all out |
I’m on my land sled, walkin through the belly of the beats |
Feelin like I’m all out, drunk as can be It’s plain to see, that we mobb niggaz hidin’in bushes |
Claimin that they ride rough, but they soft as they cushion |
They softer than bitches in the worst way, drownin in blood |
Outlawz my blood brothers, I’d die for these thuggs |
Say hi to this slug, it’s a shame how some niggaz on the west coast |
was ridin with Pac, but when he died, they went pop |
I’m on the Jers to the fullest, like some west coast love |
But after Pac stopped rappin, it ain’t no west coast thug |
Just westcoast what? |
To my real niggaz stuck in the street game |
Cause rappers like Jay-Z be pumpin Kool-Aid through they veins |
Is it true what I’m sayin? |
Slap your soft ass to the floor |
And watch my fo-fo put peek holes through your door |
I ride or die, but these other fag niggaz be bitin this |
It’s all from my heart when I was writin this |
All out |
Now, we all ride, and down to die who wit us Speak up, or get treated like you comin to kill us Ain’t nothin but squealers, in this rap game, swearin they rough |
Tattooed up, and now them niggaz swearin they Pac |
Stop that, and watch ya back, we ain’t forgot bout cha |
These glocks hot, and when shot, it’ll bring the bitch up out cha |
It’s me, Kastro with the goattee |
Walkin’like a OG, cause all these fag motherfuckers owe me I pray to the thug lord, like that motherfuckers holy |
Frontline soulja, till the heavens call me I go all out, and if you real, you real |
Feel what I’m talkin’bout, cause this game is ill |
I live it, forbidden fruit, shoot, 'till they feel it Livin’proof, Pac breed niggaz, they can’t deal wit' |
Holla back, right back, and watch ya mouth |
Or get blood in it, WHAT, we goin’all out |
Nigga |
fool, you better go all out |
keep goin’all out |
all my niggaz goin’all out |
without a muthafuckin’doubt |
Ey, you niggaz just gon think that you gon be uhh |
talkin and slippin on all of these motherfuckin records |
and we ain’t gon say shit, now it’s 1999 |
It’s a different grind, don’t disrespect the Don |
It’s still war motherfuckers |
So let’s see you act like you know |