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We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America) | Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again) | Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song
We, the, Outlawz (Prison in America) Yeah, (If you think there's no justice, think again) Hey yo. I think ya'll gonna like this next song (I think they do) When this song drop, y'all gots to go crazy I want all the West Coast people to give up some love When this song come on (Ya'll got to go crazy) They tried to ban this song (Everybody) They don't wanna play my song But they wanna play fat boy over here What? Come on, come on (Take money) Come on, come on (Take money) Come on, come on (What's up) First off, f- and the clique you claim Westside when we ride, come equipped with game You claim to be a player, but I f- your wife We bust on Bad Boys, niggas f- 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 comin' while we runnin' for your jewels Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules Lil' Caesar, go ask your homie how I'll leave ya Cut your young up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased Lil' Kim, don't f- around with real G's Quick to snatch yo' off the streets, so f- peace I'll let them n- know it's on for life Don't let the Westside ride tonight (ha ha ha) Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed F- 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 N-, I hit 'em up! Yes, yo' aha, Outlawz ey Check this out West Coast, West fo' life, what's up, hit me Get out the way yo, get out the way yo Biggie Smalls just got shot Little Moo', pass the MAC And let me hit him in his back Frank White needs to get spanked right for settin' traps Little accident murderer And I ain't never heard of ya Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your a- in the paint P- weaker than the f- ' block I'm runnin' through, n- And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, n- With the ready power Tucked in my Guess under my Eddie Bauer I push packages every hour, I hit 'em up! 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, say what? Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel This ain't no freestyle battle, all you n- gettin' killed With your mouths open Tryna come up off of me, you in the clouds hopin' Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high N- think they learned to fly But they burn, you deserve to die Talkin' about you gettin' money, but it's funny to me All you n- livin' bummy, why you f- with me? I'm a self-made millionaire Thug livin', 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 I'm from N-E-W Jers' where plenty of murders occurs No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs Now go check the scenario: Lil' Cease I'll bring you fake G's to your knees, coppin' pleas in de Janeiro Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up? Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up What the, is you stupid I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn With my click lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' 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 Alize 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 totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke Better be knowin' We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin' No need for hopin', it's a battle lost I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off I hit 'em up, what, what? Huh, huh, yeah We hit 'em up Grab your glocks when you see Tupac 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 Hit 'em up, that's right! (Take money, take money)
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