2Pac – Thug Luv (OG) (Version I)

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2Pac – Thug Luv (OG) (Version I)

Date: 1996
Recorded for: The Art Of War
Producer: DJ U-Neek


[Intro :2Pac]
(Remy and drink nigga) Thug Luv (Thug Luv bitch!) Nigga, what time is it. Yo’ I don’t give a fuck where you lay at nigga, it’s time to slay these bitch made niggas. They ain’t even knowin’ what type of niggas we is, THUG LIFE BABY Wh
Bone Thugs-N-Harmony. I know you niggas been waiting for this for a long time, well here it is nigga, here it is. What you gon’ do with this shit?

[Verse 1: Bizzy Bone (2Pac)]
Well look at the thug that my momma gave up on [?]
And labeled me worthless
Stroll through the city at 14 dirtless, put in my work and alert the service (Tell ’em)
Who could’ve knew me
Lil foster, kid fin to end of the world? (Whoa)
With enemies all rollin’ Ruthless, well I better pull my pistol and pearl (freeze nigga)
Before they analyze, me bail
Been tricking psychologists since 12 or whatever
Can I get bail? Or will I motherfuck myself? Well I’m off to The Land with a hand full of balls that’s all
Just some of my dogs Mo! Thuggin’ thuggin’
Ready to maul on y’all with a forty-five
Y’all fall and don’t you call them laws
Remember my name and that’s not all/ Whenever you want some call and I’ll be prepared to haul y’all off/ Nigga dash trap that ass roll up your up yo’ ass and punch it then flash/ Got a guage, when I catch ’em chillin’ let’s go kill his ass, kill his ass, kill his ass

Ha ha ha what’s poppin’ nigga? (Yeah) Put your motherfuckin’ hand on your strap nigga (Thug Luv nigga) Hell yeah, we can do this like gangstas and slug it out (Thug Luv) Or we can do this like punks and punk it out. Pull your strap on me (Thug Luv) Nigga and you better kill me. Thug Life baby. (Thug Luv)

[Verse 2: 2Pac]
I’ll probably be punished for hard living, blind to the facts:
Thugs is convicts in God’s prison, hands on the strap
Praying so Father please forgive me! Police be rushing when they see me
I flaunt it: America’s Most Wanted, live on T.V
Life: pleasure and pain, stuck in this game, holler my name!
We all gonna die. We bleed through similar veins
Please explain to me, now. Don’t panic when my guns burst
Heard the last jam, nigga? This one’s worse!
My nigga Bone held the chrome ’til I came home
Thug love players tell these bitch niggas “bring it on”
I caught a plane out to Cleveland late last evening
To help my niggas clean up some niggas no longer breathing
Now, who do you believe in? Hit the weed and breathe
It’s a cold-ass world; niggas kill you in your sleep
Watch me until they stop me, bury, murder me or drop me
I got thug love for my nationwide posse. Feel me!

[Verse 3: Sylk E. Fyne]
A bitch like Sylk-E catch ya slippin’ soon as you forget and trippin’
South Central stompin’ motherfuckers bloodin’ and crippin’ lil’ ripstress
So let me kick it, I’m tired of hearin’ that fake shit
I roll with real bitches, thugstas, and pimps
Got to repent, heaven sent since I was a small girl
Asked The Lord to save my soul from this cold ass world
Life unfolds, I unload to keep my sanity
I guess it’s just the B.I.T.C.H. in me

[Verse 4: Bizzy Bone]
Well, it must be close to the Armageddon, Lord
Know that I won’t fly by that lesson
You taught me to pull out my Wesson you bought me
And I’m not stressing it softly
Get ’em up off me, cause all we
Wanted was harmony, been bombing em
Yell up out of my ghetto, I won’t settle, get on my level
They can’t stop me and pop me
Nigga, they got me? Fuck no
Little Pac gets schizophrenic, and manage to damage all y’all
I’ll talk about ’em, and you don’t really want it
Cause they’re cornered, and I’m want ’em to not jump
I’d rather say that we came to shut ’em all down
So quick to test, bullet, yes, declare war
Roll, I’ll flow when I get the gun for the murder
Mo’ horror! Why? They did it all, pause for the cause
And I finna to pull a 9 or pistol, and lit a nigga with mine
Fuck them niggas, it’s on
All y’all fall! Bizzy getting bitches to test me
Bless the floor, and any attempt to arrest me, stress me
Lord, looking at death with the last of my breath
Follow, follow, my kids!
No, don’t sin in my steps!
Yet the weapon is kept with the best of my secrets
Deep in the reach, I’m alone. Nigga believe
That I can see it, if needed, and if you really with me
And well then let it be, get the greens
And we running up over Cleveland, Cleveland, Cleveland, Cleveland, Cleveland…

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