Wallflowers

”Do for Love” (versuri/lyrics)
Melodie de: 2Pac (feat. Eric Williams)

Turn it up loud
Hey man
You a little sucker for love, right?
Word up (I’m a sucka for love)
I shoulda seen you was trouble right from the start
Taught me so many lessons
How not to mess with broken hearts, so many questions
When this began we was the perfect match, perhaps
We had some problems but we workin’ at it, and now
The arguments are gettin’ loud, I wanna stay
But I can’t help from walkin’ out, just throw it away
Just take my hand and understand, if you could see
I never planned to be your man, it just wasn’t me
But now I’m searchin’ for commitment, in other arms
I wanna shelter you from harm, don’t be alarmed
Your attitude was the cause, you got me stressin’
Soon as I open up the door with your jealous questions
Like where can I be you’re killin’ me with your jealousy
Now my ambition’s to be free, I can’t breathe
‘Cause soon as I leave, it’s like a trap
I hear you callin’ me to come back, I’m a sucka for love
What you won’t do, do for love (I’m a sucka for love)
You tried everything, but you don’t give up (I’m a sucka for love)
What you won’t do (you won’t do), you won’t do for love (do for love)
You tried everything, but you don’t give up (no, baby)
Just when I thought I broke away, and I’m feelin’ happy
You try to trap me say you pregnant and guess who the daddy
Don’t wanna fall for it
But in this case what could I do? So now I’m back
To makin’ promises to you, tryin’ to keep it true
What if I’m wrong, a trick to keep me holdin’ on
Tryin’ to be strong and in the process, keep you goin’
I’m ‘bout to lose my composure, I’m gettin’ close
To packin’ up and leavin’ notes, and gettin’ ghost
Tell me who knows, a peaceful place where I can go
To clear my head I’m feelin’ low, losin’ control
My heart is sayin’ leave, oh, what a tangle web we weave
When we conspire to conceive, and now
You gettin’ calls at the house, guess you cheatin’
That’s all I need to hear ‘cause I’m leavin’, I’m out the door
Never no more will you see me, this is the end
‘Cause now I know you’ve been cheatin’, I’m a sucka for love
What you won’t do, do for love (I’m a sucka for love)
You tried everything, but you don’t give up (don’t give up, baby) (I’m a sucka for love)
What you won’t do, do for love (oh, yeah)
You tried everything, but you don’t give up (no, baby)
Now he left you with scars
Tears on your pillow and you still stay
As you sit and pray, hoping the beatings’ll go away
It wasn’t always a hit-and-run relationship
It used to be love, happiness and companionship
Remember when I treated you good
I moved you up to the hills, out the ills of the ghetto hood
Me and you a happy home, when it was on
I had a love to call my own (oh, yeah, yeah)
I shoulda seen you was trouble but I was lost
Trapped in your eyes
Preoccupied with gettin’ tossed, no need to lie
You had a man and I knew it, you told me
Don’t worry ‘bout it we can do it, now I’m under pressure (yeah)
Make a decision ‘cause I’m waitin’, when I’m alone
I’m on the phone havin’ secret conversations, huh
I wanna take your misery, replace it with happiness
But I need your faith in me, I’m a sucka for love
What you won’t do, do for love (what you won’t do for love) (I’m a sucka for love)
You tried everything, but you don’t give up (girl, you ain’t right, you know, I’m a sucka for love)
What you won’t do, do for love (you won’t do for love, my pretty baby)
You tried everything, but you don’t give up (no) (I’m a sucka for love)
What you won’t do, do for love (do for love)
You tried everything, but you don’t give up (I’m a sucka for love)
What you won’t do (oh, no), do for love (oh no) (I’m a sucka for love)
You tried everything, but you don’t give up
What you won’t do, do for love (do)
You tried everything, but you don’t give up (every little thing, baby, no, no, no)
What you won’t do, do for love (do for love)
You tried everything, but you don’t give up
Do for love
Yeah baby, yeah
Do for love
Do

Compozitori: Tupac Amaru Shakur, Kenneth Karlin, Carsten Schack, Robert E. Caldwell, Alfons Fernando Kettner.
Doar pentru utilizare non-comercială.
Date de la: Musixmatch

”Hit ‘Em Up” (versuri/lyrics)
Melodie de: 2Pac (feat. Outlawz)

Sucka-ass, I ain’t got no motherfuckin’ friends
That’s why I fucked yo’ bitch, you fat motherfucker
(Take money) West Side, Bad Boy killas
(Take money) (you know) you know who the realest is
(Take money) niggas, we bring it too
That’s ‘ight, ha-ha
(Take money) ha-ha
First off, fuck your bitch and the clique you claim
Westside when we ride, come equipped with game
You claim to be a player, but I fucked your wife
We bust on Bad Boys, niggas fucked for life
Plus, Puffy tryna see me, weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. is some mark-ass bitches
We keep on coming while we running for your jewels
Steady gunning, keep on busting at them fools, you know the rules
Lil Caesar, go ask your homie how I’ll leave ya
Cut your young-ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased
Lil Kim, don’t fuck around with real G’s
Quick to snatch yo’ ugly ass off the streets, so fuck peace
I’ll let them niggas know it’s on for life
Don’t let the Westside ride tonight, ha-ha
Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed
Fuck with me and get yo’ caps peeled, you know
See, grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac
Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh
Who shot me? But you punks didn’t finish
Now you ‘bout to feel the wrath of a menace (uh)
Nigga, I hit ‘em up
Check this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is
I don’t even know why I’m on this track
Y’all niggas ain’t even on my level
I’ma let my lil’ homies ride on you bitch-made ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it!
Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo
Biggie Smalls just got dropped
Little Mu’, pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back
Frank White needs to get spanked right for setting traps
Little accident murderer, and I ain’t never heard of ya
Poisonous gats attack when I’m serving ya
Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank
Guard your rank ‘cause I’ma slam your ass in the paint
Puffy weaker than the fucking block I’m running through, nigga
And I’m smoking Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga
With the ready power tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer
Your clout petty-sour, I push packages every hour, I hit ‘em up!
Grab your Glocks when you see 2Pac
Call the cops when you see 2Pac, uh
Who shot me? But you punks didn’t finish
Now you ‘bout to feel the wrath of a menace
Nigga, we hit ‘em up
Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel
This ain’t no freestyle battle
All you niggas getting killed with your mouths open
Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hoping
Smoking dope, it’s like a sherm high
Niggas think they learned to fly
But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die
Talking about you getting money, but it’s funny to me
All you niggas living bummy while you fucking with me
I’m a self-made millionaire
Thug living, out of prison, pistols in the air, ha-ha
Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch
And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?
Now it’s all about Versace, you copied my style
Five shots couldn’t drop me, I took it and smiled
Now I’m back to set the record straight
With my AK, I’m still the thug that you love to hate
Motherfucker, I hit ‘em up!
I’m from N-E-W Jers’ where plenty of murders occurs
No points or commas, we bring the drama to all you herbs
Now go check the scenario, Lil Cease
I’ll bring you fake G’s to your knees, copping pleas in de Janeiro
Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?
Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up
What the fuck? Is you stupid?
I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn
With my clique looting, shooting and polluting your block
With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot
Outlaw MAFIA clique moving up another notch
And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped
All your fake-ass East Coast props brainstormed and locked
You’s a beat biter, a Pac style taker
I’ll tell you to your face, you ain’t shit, but a faker
Softer than Alizé with a chaser
About to get murdered for the paper
E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper
Like a loc, with Little Ceas’ in a choke
Gun toting smoke, we ain’t no motherfucking joke
Thug Life, niggas better be knowing
We approaching in the wide open, gun smoking
No need for hoping, it’s a battle lost
I got ‘em crossed as soon as the funk is bopping off
Nigga, I hit ‘em up
Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run, hahahaha
They don’t wanna see us
Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique dressing up tryna be us
How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job?
We millionaires
Killing ain’t fair, but somebody gotta do it
Oh-yeah, Mobb Deep, huh, you wanna fuck with us?
You little young-ass motherfuckers
Don’t one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something?
You’re fucking with me, nigga
You fuck around and have a seizure or a heart attack
You better back the fuck up, ‘fore you get smacked the fuck up
This is how we do it on our side
Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it
But we ain’t singing, we bringing drama
Fuck you and yo’ motherfucking mama!
We gon’ kill all you motherfuckers!
Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie
Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfucking opinion
Well, this is how we gonna do this, fuck Mobb Deep! Fuck Biggie!
Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a motherfucking crew
And if you wanna be down with Bad Boy, then fuck you too
Chino XL, fuck you too
All you motherfuckers, fuck you too
(Take money, take money)
All of y’all motherfuckers, fuck you, die slow motherfucker
My .44 make sho’ all y’all kids don’t grow!
You motherfuckers can’t be us or see us
We motherfucking Thug Life ridas, Westside ‘til we die!
Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya
We’ll bomb on you motherfuckers! We do our job!
You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfucking mob!
Ain’t nothing but killas and the real niggas, all you motherfuckers feel us
Our shit goes triple and four-quadruple
You niggas laugh ‘cause our staff got guns in they motherfuckers belts
You know how it is, when we drop records, they felt
You niggas can’t feel it, we the realest
Fuck ‘em! We Bad Boy killas

Compozitori: Tupac Amaru Shakur, Bruce Washington, Johnny Lee Jackson, Dennis Lambert, Francine Vicki Golde, Duane S. Hitchings, Malcolm R. Greenidge, Yafeu A. Fula.
Doar pentru utilizare non-comercială.
Date de la: Musixmatch

”All Eyez On Me” (versuri/lyrics)
Melodie de: 2Pac feat. Big Syke

[Intro: 2Pac]
Big Syke, ‘Nook, Hank, Bogart, Big Sur (Yeah)
Y’all know how this shit go (You know)
All eyes on me
Motherfuckin’ OG
Roll up in the club and shit, is that right?
All eyes on me
All eyes on me
But you know what?

[Verse 1: 2Pac]
I bet you got it twisted, you don’t know who to trust
So many player-hatin’ niggas tryna sound like us
Say they ready for the funk, but I don’t think they knowin’
Straight to the depths of Hell is where those cowards goin’
Well, are you still down? Nigga, holla when you see me
And let these devils be sorry for the day they finally freed me
I got a caravan of niggas every time we ride
Hittin’ motherfuckers up when we pass by
Until I die, live the life of a boss player ‘cause even when I’m high
Fuck with me and get crossed later, the future’s in my eyes
‘cause all I want is cash and things
A five-double-0 Benz, flauntin’ flashy rings, uhh
Bitches pursue me like a dream
Been known to disappear before your eyes just like a dope fiend
It seems, my main thing was to be major paid
The game sharper than a motherfuckin’ razor blade
Say money bring bitches and bitches bring lies
One nigga’s gettin’ jealous and motherfuckers died
Depend on me like the first and fifteenth
They might hold me for a second, but these punks won’t get me
We got foe niggas and low riders in ski masks
Screamin’, „Thug Life!” every time they pass, all eyes on me

[Chorus: 2Pac]
Live the life of a thug nigga until the day I die
Live the life of a boss player (All eyes on me) ‘cause even gettin’ high
All eyes on me
Live the life of a thug nigga until the day I die
Live the life of a boss player ‘cause even gettin’ high

[Interlude: Big Syke]
Hey, to my nigga Pac

[Verse 2: Big Syke]
So much trouble in the world, nigga
Can’t nobody feel your pain
The world’s changin’ every day, time’s movin’ fast
My girl said I need a raise, how long will she last?
I’m caught between my woman and my pistol and my chips
Triple beam, got some smokers on, whistle as I dip
I’m lost in the land with no plan, livin’ life flawless
Crime boss, contraband, let me toss this
Mediocres got a lot of nerve, let my bucket swerve
I’m takin’ off from the curb
The nervousness neglect make me pack a TEC
Devoted to servin’ this Moët and pay checks
Like Akai satellite, nigga, I’m forever ballin’
It ain’t right: parasites, triggers, and fleas crawlin’
Sucker, duck and get busted, no emotion
My devotion is handlin’ my business, nigga, keep on coastin’
Where you goin’, I been there, came back as lonely, homie
Steady flowin’ against the grain, niggas still don’t know me
It’s about the money in this rap shit, this crap shit
It ain’t funny, niggas don’t even know how to act, shit
What can I do? What can I say? Is there another way?
Blunts and gin all day, 24 parlay
My little homie G, can’t you see I’m buster-free?
Niggas can’t stand me; all eyes on me

[Chorus: 2Pac]
Live the life of a thug nigga until the day I die
Live the life of a boss player ‘cause even gettin’ high
All eyes on me
All eyes on me
Live the life of a thug nigga until the day I die
Live the life of a boss player ‘cause even gettin’ high
All eyes on me

[Verse 3: 2Pac]
The feds is watchin’, niggas plottin’ to get me
Will I survive? Will I die? Come on, let’s picture the possibility
Givin’ me charges, lawyers makin’ a grip
I told the judge I was raised wrong and that’s why I blaze shit
Was hyper as a kid, cold as a teenager
On my mobile, callin’ big shots on the scene major
Packin’ hundreds in my drawers, fuck the law
Bitches, I fuck with a passion, I’m livin’ rough and raw
Catchin’ cases at a fast rate, ballin’ in the fast lane
Hustle ‘til the mornin’, never stopped until the cash came
Live my life as a thug nigga until the day I die
Live my life as a boss player, ‘cause even gettin’ high
These niggas got me tossin’ shit
I put the top down, now it’s time to floss my shit
Keep your head up, nigga, make these motherfuckers suffer
Up in the Benz, burnin’ rubber
The money is mandatory, the hoes is for the stress
This criminal lifestyle, equipped with the bulletproof vest
Make sure your eyes is on the meal ticket
Get your money, motherfucker, let’s get rich and we’ll kick it
All eyes on me
[Chorus: 2Pac]
Live the life as a thug nigga until the day I die
Live the life as a boss player ‘cause even gettin’ high
All eyes on me
All eyes on me
Live the life of a thug nigga until the day I die
Live the life of a boss player ‘cause even gettin’ high
All eyes on me

[Outro: 2Pac]
Pay attention, my niggas! See how that shit go?
Nigga walk up in this motherfucker and it be like, „Bing!”
Cops, bitches, every-motherfuckin’-body
(Live my life as a thug nigga until the day I die)
(Live my life as a boss playa, ‘cause even gettin’ high)
I got bustas, hoes, and police watchin’ a nigga, you know?
(I live my life as a thug nigga until the day I die)
(Livin’ life as a boss playa, ‘cause even gettin’ high)
He he he, it’s like what they think
I’m walkin’ around with some ki’s in my pocket or somethin’
They think I’m goin’ back to jail, they really on that dope
(Live my life as a thug nigga until the day I die)
(Live my life as a boss playa)
I know y’all watchin’, I know y’all got me in the scopes
(Live my life as a thug nigga until the day I die)
(Live my life as a boss playa, ‘cause even gettin’ high)
I know y’all know this is Thug Life, baby!
Y’all got me under surveillance, huh?
All eyes on me, but I’m knowin’

Date de la: genius.com
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