2 Pac
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JM-Inglés :: English World :: Music videos :: Hip-hop & rap
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2pac - Dear Mama
You are appreciated
[Verse One: Tupac]
When I was young me and my mama had beef
Seventeen years old kicked out on the streets
Though back at the time, I never thought I'd see her face
Ain't a woman alive that could take my mama's place
Suspended from school; and scared to go home, I was a fool
with the big boys, breakin all the rules
I shed tears with my baby sister
Over the years we was poorer than the other little kids
And even though we had different daddy's, the same drama
When things went wrong we'd blame mama
I reminice on the stress I caused, it was hell
Huggin on my mama from a jail cell
And who'd think in elementary?
Heeey! I see the penitentiary, one day
And runnin from the police, that's right
Mama catch me, put a whoopin to my backside
And even as a crack fiend, mama
You always was a black queen, mama
I finally understand
for a woman it ain't easy tryin to raise a man
You always was committed
A poor single mother on welfare, tell me how ya did it
There's no way I can pay you back
But the plan is to show you that I understand
You are appreciated
[Chorus: Reggie Green & "Sweet Franklin" w/ Tupac]
Lady...
Don't cha know we love ya? Sweet lady
Dear mama
Place no one above ya, sweet lady
You are appreciated
Don't cha know we love ya?
[second and third chorus, "And dear mama" instead of "Dear mama"]
[Verse Two: Tupac]
Now ain't nobody tell us it was fair
No love from my daddy cause the coward wasn't there
He passed away and I didn't cry, cause my anger
wouldn't let me feel for a stranger
They say I'm wrong and I'm heartless, but all along
I was lookin for a father he was gone
I hung around with the Thugs, and even though they sold drugs
They showed a young brother love
I moved out and started really hangin
I needed money of my own so I started slangin
I ain't guilty cause, even though I sell rocks
It feels good puttin money in your mailbox
I love payin rent when the rent's due
I hope ya got the diamond necklace that I sent to you
Cause when I was low you was there for me
And never left me alone because you cared for me
And I could see you comin home after work late
You're in the kitchen tryin to fix us a hot plate
Ya just workin with the scraps you was given
And mama made miracles every Thanksgivin
But now the road got rough, you're alone
You're tryin to raise two bad kids on your own
And there's no way I can pay you back
But my plan is to show you that I understand
You are appreciated
[Chorus]
[Verse Three: Tupac]
Pour out some liquor and I reminsce, cause through the drama
I can always depend on my mama
And when it seems that I'm hopeless
You say the words that can get me back in focus
When I was sick as a little kid
To keep me happy there's no limit to the things you did
And all my childhood memories
Are full of all the sweet things you did for me
And even though I act craaazy
I gotta thank the Lord that you made me
There are no words that can express how I feel
You never kept a secret, always stayed real
And I appreciate, how you raised me
And all the extra love that you gave me
I wish I could take the pain away
If you can make it through the night there's a brighter day
Everything will be alright if ya hold on
It's a struggle everyday, gotta roll on
And there's no way I can pay you back
But my plan is to show you that I understand
You are appreciated
[Chorus]
Sweet lady
And dear mama
Dear mama
Lady [3X]
2pac - Hit Em Up
Old School Hip Hop is the best
Intro: zeb
I ain't got no motherfuckin friends
That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker
(take money) WEESSSSSSTTTTIIIIIDE!!
Bad Boy killers
(take money) You know the realest is niggaz
(take money) We bring it to you
(take money)
Verse One: Tupac
First off, fuck your bitch and the click 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 Boy niggas fuck for life
Plus Puffy tryna see me weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smallz and Junior M.A.F.I.A. some mark ass bitches
We keep on comin' while we runnin for ya jewels
steady gunnin, keep on bustin at them fools, you know the rules
Little Caeser, go ask ya homie how I leave ya
cut your young ass up, see you in pieces, now be deceased
Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's
Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off tha streetz, so fuck peace
I let them niggas know it's on for life
Don't let the West side ride the night (haha)
Bad Boys murdered on wax, and killed
Fuck wit' me and get ya caps peeled, you know, see...
Chorus:
Grab ya glocks, when you see Tupac
Call the cops, when you see Tupac, uhh
Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish
Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace
nigga, I hit em' up...
Interlude: Tupac
Check this out, you muthafuckas know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this track
ya'll niggaz ain't even on my level
I'ma let my lil homies ride on you
bitch made-ass bad boy bitches, deal with it!!
Verse Two: Fatal
Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
Biggie Smallz just got dropped
Little Moo, pass the Mac, and let me hit him in his back
Frank White need to get spanked right, for settin traps
little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard-a ya
Poiseless gats attack when I'm servin ya
spank the shank ya whole style when I gank
Guard your rank, cause I'ma slam ya ass in the pang
Puffy weaker than a fuckin block i'm running through nigga
and, I'll smoking junior mafia in front of you, nigga
With the ready power tuckin my Gats under my Eddie Bauer
ya clout, petty sour I push packages every hour
I hit em up
Chorus
Verse Three: Tupac
Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steel
this aint no freestyle battle, all you niggaz gettin
killed with ya mouths open
tryin to come up offa me, you in the clouds hoping
smokin dope it's like a shermine
Niggaz think they learned to fly
But they burn muthafucka, you deserve to die
Talkin bout you gettin money but its funny to me
all you niggaz livin bummy why you fuckin with me
I'm a self-made millionaire
Thug Livin outta prison, pistols in the air,(hahaha)
Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch
and beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house,(ha)
Now its all about Versace, you copied my style
Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it, and smiled
Now I'm bout to set the record straight, with my AK
I'm still the thug you love to hate
Motherfucker, I hit em up
Verse Four: Kadafi
I'm from N-E-W Jerz., where plenty murders occurz
No point to come, we bringin drama to all you heardz
Local check the scenario, Little Caes'
I bring you fake G's to your knees
Coppin pleas to 'De Janeiro'
Lil Kim, is you coked up, or doped up?
Get ya lil Junior Whopper click smoked up, what the fuck
is you STUPID?!?! I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn
with my click lootin, shootin and pollutin ya block
with 15 shots cock glock to your knot
Outlaw mafia click movin up another notch
And you popstars popped get dropped and mopped
All your fake-ass east coast props brainstormed and locked
Verse Five: Edi
Youse a, beat biter, a Pac style taker
I'll tell it to ya face u aint nuttin shit but a faker
Softer than Aliz-A with a chaser
Bout to get murdered for the paper
E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper
like a loc, with little ceaser in a choke hold
Totin smoke, we aint no muthafuckin joke
Thug Life, niggaz betta be knowin, we approchin
in the wide open, guns smokin
no need for hopin its a battle lost, I got across
Soon as the funk was bobbin off
Nigga I hit em up
Outro: Tupac ("take money" background riff")
Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run (haha)
They don't wanna see us
Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. click dressin up tryin ta be us
How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job
We millionaires, killin ain't fair but somebody gotta do it
Oh yeah, Mobb Deep, you wanna fuck with us?
You little young ass motherfuckers
Don't one of you niggaz got sickle cell or somethin?
You fuckin 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
Tha's how we do it on our side
Any of you niggaz from New York that wanna bring it, bring it
But we ain't singin, we bringin drama
Fuck you and your motherfuckin mama
We gonna kill all you motherfuckers
Now when I came out I told you it was just about Biggie
Then everybody had to open their mouth for the motherfucker opinion
Well this how we gonna do dis
Fuck Mobb Deep
Fuck Biggie
Fuck Bad Boy as a staff record, record label
and as a motherfuckin 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)
Alla y'all motherfuckers, fuck you die slow motherfucker
My fo'-fo' make sure all y'all kids don't grow
You motherfuckers can't be us or see us
We the motherfuckin Thug Life ridahs WEESSSSSSTSIIIIIDE till we die!
Out here in California Nigga we warn ya we'll bomb on you motherfuckers
We do our job
You think you mob, nigga we the motherfuckin mob
Ain't nuttin but killers and the real niggaz
All you motherfuckers feel us
Our shit's go triple and four-quadruple
(take money)
You niggaz laugh coz our staff got guns in they
motherfuckers belt, you know how it is
When we drop records they felt
You niggaz can't feel it
We the realest, FUCK EM, we Bad Boy killaz! (we killin)
Intro: zeb
I ain't got no motherfuckin friends
That's why I fucked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker
(take money) WEESSSSSSTTTTIIIIIDE!!
Bad Boy killers
(take money) You know the realest is niggaz
(take money) We bring it to you
(take money)
Verse One: Tupac
First off, fuck your bitch and the click 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 Boy niggas fuck for life
Plus Puffy tryna see me weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smallz and Junior M.A.F.I.A. some mark ass bitches
We keep on comin' while we runnin for ya jewels
steady gunnin, keep on bustin at them fools, you know the rules
Little Caeser, go ask ya homie how I leave ya
cut your young ass up, see you in pieces, now be deceased
Lil Kim, don't fuck around with real G's
Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off tha streetz, so fuck peace
I let them niggas know it's on for life
Don't let the West side ride the night (haha)
Bad Boys murdered on wax, and killed
Fuck wit' me and get ya caps peeled, you know, see...
Chorus:
Grab ya glocks, when you see Tupac
Call the cops, when you see Tupac, uhh
Who shot me, but ya punks didn't finish
Now ya bout to feel the wrath of a menace
nigga, I hit em' up...
Interlude: Tupac
Check this out, you muthafuckas know what time it is
I don't even know why I'm on this track
ya'll niggaz ain't even on my level
I'ma let my lil homies ride on you
bitch made-ass bad boy bitches, deal with it!!
Verse Two: Fatal
Get out the way yo, get out the way yo
Biggie Smallz just got dropped
Little Moo, pass the Mac, and let me hit him in his back
Frank White need to get spanked right, for settin traps
little accident murderer, and I ain't never heard-a ya
Poiseless gats attack when I'm servin ya
spank the shank ya whole style when I gank
Guard your rank, cause I'ma slam ya ass in the pang
Puffy weaker than a fuckin block i'm running through nigga
and, I'll smoking junior mafia in front of you, nigga
With the ready power tuckin my Gats under my Eddie Bauer
ya clout, petty sour I push packages every hour
I hit em up
Chorus
Verse Three: Tupac
Peep how we do it, keep it real, it's penitentiary steel
this aint no freestyle battle, all you niggaz gettin
killed with ya mouths open
tryin to come up offa me, you in the clouds hoping
smokin dope it's like a shermine
Niggaz think they learned to fly
But they burn muthafucka, you deserve to die
Talkin bout you gettin money but its funny to me
all you niggaz livin bummy why you fuckin with me
I'm a self-made millionaire
Thug Livin outta prison, pistols in the air,(hahaha)
Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch
and beg the bitch to let you sleep in the house,(ha)
Now its all about Versace, you copied my style
Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it, and smiled
Now I'm bout to set the record straight, with my AK
I'm still the thug you love to hate
Motherfucker, I hit em up
Verse Four: Kadafi
I'm from N-E-W Jerz., where plenty murders occurz
No point to come, we bringin drama to all you heardz
Local check the scenario, Little Caes'
I bring you fake G's to your knees
Coppin pleas to 'De Janeiro'
Lil Kim, is you coked up, or doped up?
Get ya lil Junior Whopper click smoked up, what the fuck
is you STUPID?!?! I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn
with my click lootin, shootin and pollutin ya block
with 15 shots cock glock to your knot
Outlaw mafia click movin up another notch
And you popstars popped get dropped and mopped
All your fake-ass east coast props brainstormed and locked
Verse Five: Edi
Youse a, beat biter, a Pac style taker
I'll tell it to ya face u aint nuttin shit but a faker
Softer than Aliz-A with a chaser
Bout to get murdered for the paper
E.D.I. Mean approach the scene of the caper
like a loc, with little ceaser in a choke hold
Totin smoke, we aint no muthafuckin joke
Thug Life, niggaz betta be knowin, we approchin
in the wide open, guns smokin
no need for hopin its a battle lost, I got across
Soon as the funk was bobbin off
Nigga I hit em up
Outro: Tupac ("take money" background riff")
Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run (haha)
They don't wanna see us
Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. click dressin up tryin ta be us
How the fuck they gonna be the mob when we always on our job
We millionaires, killin ain't fair but somebody gotta do it
Oh yeah, Mobb Deep, you wanna fuck with us?
You little young ass motherfuckers
Don't one of you niggaz got sickle cell or somethin?
You fuckin 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
Tha's how we do it on our side
Any of you niggaz from New York that wanna bring it, bring it
But we ain't singin, we bringin drama
Fuck you and your motherfuckin mama
We gonna kill all you motherfuckers
Now when I came out I told you it was just about Biggie
Then everybody had to open their mouth for the motherfucker opinion
Well this how we gonna do dis
Fuck Mobb Deep
Fuck Biggie
Fuck Bad Boy as a staff record, record label
and as a motherfuckin 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)
Alla y'all motherfuckers, fuck you die slow motherfucker
My fo'-fo' make sure all y'all kids don't grow
You motherfuckers can't be us or see us
We the motherfuckin Thug Life ridahs WEESSSSSSTSIIIIIDE till we die!
Out here in California Nigga we warn ya we'll bomb on you motherfuckers
We do our job
You think you mob, nigga we the motherfuckin mob
Ain't nuttin but killers and the real niggaz
All you motherfuckers feel us
Our shit's go triple and four-quadruple
(take money)
You niggaz laugh coz our staff got guns in they
motherfuckers belt, you know how it is
When we drop records they felt
You niggaz can't feel it
We the realest, FUCK EM, we Bad Boy killaz! (we killin)
2 Pac
2 PAC
2 Pac feat Elton John - Ghetto Gospel
Uhh,
Hit them with a lil' ghetto gospel
Those who wish to follow me (My ghetto gospel)
I welcome with my hands
And the red sun sinks at last into the hills of gold
And peace to this young warrior without the sound of guns
If I could recollect before my hood days
I'd sit and reminisce, nigga and bliss on the good days
I stop and stare at the younger, my heart goes to'em
They tested, it was stressed that they under
In our days, things changed
Everyone's ashamed to the youth cause the truth looks strange
And for me it's reversed, we left them a world that's cursed, and it hurts
cause any day they'll push the button
and yall condemned like Malcolm x and Bobby Hunton, died for nothing
Don't them let me get teary, the world looks dreary
but when you wipe your eyes, see it clearly
there's no need for you to fear me
if you take your time to hear me, maybe you can learn to cheer me
it ain't about black or white, cause we're human
I hope we see the light before its ruined
my ghetto gospel
Those who wish to follow me (My ghetto gospel)
I welcome with my hands
And the red sun sinks at last into the hills of gold
And peace to this young warrior without the sound of guns
Tell me do you see that old lady ain't it sad
Living out a bag, but she's glad for the little things she has
And over there there's a lady, crack got her crazy
Guess she's given birth to a baby
I don't trip and let it fade me, from outta the frying pan
We jump into another form of slavery
Even now I get discouraged
Wonder if they take it all back while I still keep the courage
I refuse to be a role model
I set goals, take control, drink out my own bottles
I make mistakes, I learn from everyone
And when its said and done
I bet this Brotha be a better one
If I'm upset, you don't stress
Never forget, that God hasn't finished with me yet
I feel his hand on my brain
When I write rhymes, I go blind, and let the lord do his thang
But am I less holy
Cause I choose to puff a blunt and drink a beer with my homies
Before we find world peace
We gotta find peace and end the war on the streets
My ghetto gospel
Those who wish to follow me (My ghetto gospel)
I welcome with my hands
And the red sun sinks at last into the hills of gold
And peace to this young warrior without the sound of guns
Lord can you hear me speak!!
To pay the price of being hell bound...
Roxy_679- Cantidad de envíos : 81
Edad : 32
Empleo /Ocio : Estudiante
Fecha de inscripción : 04/10/2008
2 Pac feat Elton John - Ghetto Gospel
This song is the perfect combination in between the music more quiet with the autentic rap. I love the 2 Pac´s music and I love this song.
Pablo13- Cantidad de envíos : 98
Edad : 32
Empleo /Ocio : Estudiante
Fecha de inscripción : 18/12/2008
JM-Inglés :: English World :: Music videos :: Hip-hop & rap
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