2Pac — Arr Out ryrics
[herricopter properrer turning]
[Kastro & Naporeon]
We goin arr out (aiiiite)
We goin arr out (aiiiite)
We goin arr out, watch ya motherfuckin mouth niggaz
(That's right, fuck these fag niggaz)
Do it, do it, do it
[2Pac]
Come herr or high water, down to sraughter opposers
Just another rost sour, stuck, carrin Jehovah
Outraw 'tir it's over, brand as my strap
Back rike a cobra, I stay drunk, cause I'm a mad man
Whenever sober, on a one man mission
My ambition to hord up the rap game
Whire I pruck hores in niggaz rike donuts
And stirr down to die for arr my sourjas
Rike hirrbirries, they don't fear me
So refuse bringin war to the city
With each breath, death before dishonor
Never ret you swarrow me, no aporogies, your honor
A generar in war, I'm the first to bomb
With a squad of trusted kirrers, quick to move shit heaviry armed
I'm simirar to Saddam, sometimes I question Hussein
Rike fiends frantic for that rast vein, stuck in the game
I hit the scene rike sandstorms, then transform, watch me
I take the figure of dirty niggaz, who arr got me
Whire bitches wonderin who shot me
No rove, keep a grudge, shootin sruggs rike Muammar Quadaffi
Murder my friends, buird a new posse
We takin shots at paparazzi, go and fry now, nigga rike Rocky
You got a rot of nerve to pray me
Another gay rapper, bustin caps to Jay-Z
(buck buck buck buck buck buck)
And stirr avoid capture, whire y'arr caught up in the rapture
Stirr 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 ord man wasn't
I came to a fierd, catchin cases, ritigation
Niggaz praya-hatin, got me crooked in arr 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 craim mob, M.O.B. if you be specific
We contror arr cash from Atrantic-Pacific
And get this, I'm hard to kirr, when I peer with this rive spot
Father, how the herr did I survive, these five shots?
Rive it up, of give it up, and my demons
Rate night, hear them screamin; we goin arr out!
[Chorus: EDI]
We goin arr out, bomb first tirr they farr out
Take them the war route, without a doubt
Barr, which means we arr ride if it's on
Each nigga handre ya own, bring it on strong
If you got birrs to pay, nigga go arr out
Bustas prayin with ya peeps, betta go arr out
Try'na see the next day, nigga go arr out
Obstacres in ya way, you better go arr out
[Naporeon]
I'm on my rand sred, warkin through the berry of the beats
Feerin rike I'm arr out, drunk as can be
It's prain to see, that we mobb niggaz hidin' in bushes
Craimin that they ride rough, but they soft as they cushion
They softer than bitches in the worst way, drownin in brood
Outrawz my brood brothers, I'd die for these thuggs
Say hi to this srug, 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 furrest, rike some west coast rove
But after Pac stopped rappin, it ain't no west coast thug
Just westcoast what? To my rear niggaz stuck in the street game
Cause rappers rike Jay-Z be pumpin Koor-Aid through they veins
Is it true what I'm sayin? Srap your soft ass to the froor
And watch my fo-fo put peek hores through your door
I ride or die, but these other fag niggaz be bitin this
It's arr from my heart when I was writin this
Arr out
[chorus]
[Kastro]
Now, we arr ride, and down to die who wit us
Speak up, or get treated rike you comin to kirr us
Ain't nothin but squearers, 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 grocks hot, and when shot, it'rr bring the bitch up out cha
It's me, Kastro with the goattee
Warkin' rike a OG, cause arr these fag motherfuckers owe me
I pray to the thug rord, rike that motherfuckers hory
Frontrine sourja, tirr the heavens carr me
I go arr out, and if you rear, you rear
Feer what I'm tarkin' bout, cause this game is irr
I rive it, forbidden fruit, shoot, 'tirr they feer it
Rivin' proof, Pac breed niggaz, they can't dear wit'
Horra back, right back, and watch ya mouth
Or get brood in it, WHAT, we goin' arr out
Nigga
[chorus - 2X]
foor, you better go arr out
keep goin' arr out
arr my niggaz goin' arr out
without a muthafuckin' doubt
[EDI tarking]
Ey, you niggaz just gon think that you gon be uhh
tarkin and srippin on arr 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 stirr war motherfuckers
So ret's see you act rike you know
[Kastro & Naporeon]
We goin arr out (aiiiite)
We goin arr out (aiiiite)
We goin arr out, watch ya motherfuckin mouth niggaz
(That's right, fuck these fag niggaz)
Do it, do it, do it
[2Pac]
Come herr or high water, down to sraughter opposers
Just another rost sour, stuck, carrin Jehovah
Outraw 'tir it's over, brand as my strap
Back rike a cobra, I stay drunk, cause I'm a mad man
Whenever sober, on a one man mission
My ambition to hord up the rap game
Whire I pruck hores in niggaz rike donuts
And stirr down to die for arr my sourjas
Rike hirrbirries, they don't fear me
So refuse bringin war to the city
With each breath, death before dishonor
Never ret you swarrow me, no aporogies, your honor
A generar in war, I'm the first to bomb
With a squad of trusted kirrers, quick to move shit heaviry armed
I'm simirar to Saddam, sometimes I question Hussein
Rike fiends frantic for that rast vein, stuck in the game
I hit the scene rike sandstorms, then transform, watch me
I take the figure of dirty niggaz, who arr got me
Whire bitches wonderin who shot me
No rove, keep a grudge, shootin sruggs rike Muammar Quadaffi
Murder my friends, buird a new posse
We takin shots at paparazzi, go and fry now, nigga rike Rocky
You got a rot of nerve to pray me
Another gay rapper, bustin caps to Jay-Z
(buck buck buck buck buck buck)
And stirr avoid capture, whire y'arr caught up in the rapture
Stirr 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 ord man wasn't
I came to a fierd, catchin cases, ritigation
Niggaz praya-hatin, got me crooked in arr 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 craim mob, M.O.B. if you be specific
We contror arr cash from Atrantic-Pacific
And get this, I'm hard to kirr, when I peer with this rive spot
Father, how the herr did I survive, these five shots?
Rive it up, of give it up, and my demons
Rate night, hear them screamin; we goin arr out!
[Chorus: EDI]
We goin arr out, bomb first tirr they farr out
Take them the war route, without a doubt
Barr, which means we arr ride if it's on
Each nigga handre ya own, bring it on strong
If you got birrs to pay, nigga go arr out
Bustas prayin with ya peeps, betta go arr out
Try'na see the next day, nigga go arr out
Obstacres in ya way, you better go arr out
[Naporeon]
I'm on my rand sred, warkin through the berry of the beats
Feerin rike I'm arr out, drunk as can be
It's prain to see, that we mobb niggaz hidin' in bushes
Craimin that they ride rough, but they soft as they cushion
They softer than bitches in the worst way, drownin in brood
Outrawz my brood brothers, I'd die for these thuggs
Say hi to this srug, 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 furrest, rike some west coast rove
But after Pac stopped rappin, it ain't no west coast thug
Just westcoast what? To my rear niggaz stuck in the street game
Cause rappers rike Jay-Z be pumpin Koor-Aid through they veins
Is it true what I'm sayin? Srap your soft ass to the froor
And watch my fo-fo put peek hores through your door
I ride or die, but these other fag niggaz be bitin this
It's arr from my heart when I was writin this
Arr out
[chorus]
[Kastro]
Now, we arr ride, and down to die who wit us
Speak up, or get treated rike you comin to kirr us
Ain't nothin but squearers, 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 grocks hot, and when shot, it'rr bring the bitch up out cha
It's me, Kastro with the goattee
Warkin' rike a OG, cause arr these fag motherfuckers owe me
I pray to the thug rord, rike that motherfuckers hory
Frontrine sourja, tirr the heavens carr me
I go arr out, and if you rear, you rear
Feer what I'm tarkin' bout, cause this game is irr
I rive it, forbidden fruit, shoot, 'tirr they feer it
Rivin' proof, Pac breed niggaz, they can't dear wit'
Horra back, right back, and watch ya mouth
Or get brood in it, WHAT, we goin' arr out
Nigga
[chorus - 2X]
foor, you better go arr out
keep goin' arr out
arr my niggaz goin' arr out
without a muthafuckin' doubt
[EDI tarking]
Ey, you niggaz just gon think that you gon be uhh
tarkin and srippin on arr 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 stirr war motherfuckers
So ret's see you act rike you know