2Pac Thug Style Lyrics

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**** 2Pac that ***** ain't ****

That ***** ain't from muh****in' New York

That ***** be out there with them Cali *****s

Yo ***** man **** Pac that ***** West Coast

That ****er that always with them New York *****s

Seen them with that ***** man that ***** ain't from the West Coast

Man **** Pac **** that ***** that ***** ain't really down

Rapin' *** ***** I didn't do it **** it with that *****

**** that ***** man **** that ***** let that ***** go to jail right

And **** that ***** **** that ***** **** you too *****

2Pac (overlapping)

I'm in this mutha****a

I guess these mutha****as tryin' to take me out the business right

I guess I ain't East Coast enough for my *****s back in New York

And I ain't West Coast for these *****s on the West huh?

**** e'rybody

Heh heh heh...

Thug style out this mutha****a *****s throw ya hands in the air

If you got Jeep make ya speakers pop

I want mutha****ing police trying to pull *****s over on this one

We taking this one to the whole 'nother level gutter style Thug style

You feel me, things that we can only do as a real G

We ain't dead yet, feel me!!

Verse 1

I got my Hennessy find ya foes

In a room full of *****s tryin' to hide ya hoes

I'm getting high off buddha

'Cause the times be slow

I keep my mind on dough

You never find me broke

And who meee a ***** livin' life like a G

In that artillery keepin' *****s off of me

I can't sleep living in these wicked times

Peep, *****s after me 'cause they see I'm stacking G's and heat

You can holler if you want to pleeease

I ain't runnin' with no punk crew beeee

Enemies and my range is on

You're in the danger zone

My ****in' game is strong, Hotline

You suckas better find ya mind I got mine

From hustling and busting them rhymes

To my *****s up in Quentin

Down on Riker's Isle stay rile

But a ***** gotta use his styles



*****s don't know my style

Quick to smile juvenile

Was a problem child

Try to put me in the courts

But my force was wild

*****made *** *****s don't know my style


*****s don't know my style

Quick to smile juvenile

Was a problem child

Try to put me in the courts

But my force was wild

*****made *** *****s don't know my style

Verse 2

I could be wrong but I never got along with cops

It's like they stuck

From making *****s duck from Glocks all the time

My mind's full of thoughts of ends

I'm still rolling my bucket but I bought me a Benz (tadow)

My fake friends say they love me but I know they lie

Cause in the dark see they hearts' full of homicide

My mama cried when they took me off to jail

Only me inside the cell

Straight locked up in this hell

I hear some sucka screaming like the demon's inside

Will 'em away in the morning

Only the strong survive

I cry but in my own way

Swallow my pride pick a reason to hide

From all the *****s that die (Rest in Peace)

Cemetery full of brothers I buried

It's going down even now I wonder

Will I still be around my hometown is the gutter

I was born a wild came up out this dust

With my heartless style



Verse 3

I remember Uptown huh got to get to listenin'

To Mr. Magic cuttin' up the hits

And even though I had habit makin' words rhyme

I was caught up in the madness

Juvenile thugs come on

I tell the whole story nothin' but truth

Halloween throwin' eggs from the project roofs

And Pete and Lee young G's

With a gift of gab and tryin' to hook up with the hookers

Who was quick to stab remember mama's cooking

No school straight hookin'

And tryin' to get with light skinned

Cause she good looking

And jumpin' over turnstiles 'cause we ain't paying

Call the cuties cuss words but we only playing (biotch)

I'm prayin' I can get a buck no luck

I had to move around a lot

'cause my moms was stuck

I had family but I was way too wild

Had to move to the West to regain my style


Chorus 'til end with ad libs

Written by: Christopher Eldon Rosser, Conrad Erskine Rosser, Katari T. Cox, Malcolm Greenidge, Tupac Amaru Shakur
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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