Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Tupac Joint, artist - Jim Jones. Date of issue: 22.08.2005
Song language: English
Tupac Joint |
| Rumors that were said, shot in cold blood |
| Two up in my head, can’t talk phone bugged |
| Somebody want me dead, but I’m still flossin' |
| I rock my jewelry through the scurriest streets |
| I keep my ears to the streets |
| And I ain’t scared of police |
| Lord knows that I got various beefs |
| So could you pray for the weak |
| You know the wolves prey on the sheep |
| So we hustle everyday of the week |
| That’s why we fuck up all the paper we see |
| We hit the clubs, fuckin ladies for free |
| Getting drunk, off and hazin' the V |
| And every couple days we get sweeped |
| Around the clock we bumpin' and clickin' |
| You gotta watch cause when they come they be blitzin' |
| Now this is for my homies and my thugs |
| One million in the truck, and the chrome full of slugs (Fully Automatic!) |
| You fuckin phonies you’ll get plugged (Boom!.. Bang!) |
| I’m a ghetto nigga for life |
| The streets is in my blood (DIPSET!) |
| Now this is for my homies and my thugs |
| One million in the truck, and the chrome full of sluts (Fully Automatic!) |
| You fuckin phonies you’ll get plugged (Boom!.. Bang!) |
| I’m a ghetto nigga for life |
| The streets is in my blood (BYRDGANG!) |
| Ya niggas dyin', while you other niggas is hidin' |
| Might be strapped, but you runnin' and ain’t ridin' |
| So I’m slidin' to the place down the hill |
| Where the homies is murda and when its poppin' down to kill |
| On the real |
| The only way a motherfucker try to survive |
| Is knowin' that he 'bout to die, and ride |
| I told Face he was the realest in the game |
| And he smiled and told me 'Pac was the realest that they came |
| In the jungle, I walk like I’m the king of the beasts |
| So when you duck huntin', keep movin' cause I’m swingin' the heat |
| I might go out of town, move fakin' is none of that |
| And never leave up out the hood, the way I can’t come back |
| Fuck that |
| Hussein in the street game frame |
| Life is a struggle, so with the heat take aim |
| I’m ghetto, don’t ever think I’m him its not me |
| Cuz I love this motherfucker like pills in a hot tea |
| Why ya act like I’m new to this? |
| Mack to the uzi clip |
| When it comes to beef, we all packed like Luis Rich |
| Battlin' is ludicrous, half of ya uterus |
| Matter fact, Jimmy, pass me the «Kufi List» |
| What you think niggas got goons for? |
| The mass menace at ya door like a costume ball (hello) |
| My flow is like when you throw a 'Pac tune on |
| The only time you get tax is when you cop new 'gords, dog |
| I make it happen with no sarcasm |
| So it ain’t the station wagon, when you see me dodge magnums (get it?) |
| If I don’t hit you when the clip fills |
| Like the show off the blind date, ya know the fifth will |
| Break niggas like big bills, when it peels |
| Sit still, shit’s real, listen you a kid’s meal |
| And I eat those, reload, heat blown |
| Keep those kilos, cause we go beast mode |