2Pac’s “Friends” by Holler If Ya Hear Me Lyrics
[Introduction: 2Pac]
I want to be, yo, let me fuck that nigga down
You heard that shit, nigga
Ay, yo, what you going with that big ass
My ghetto love song, set it off, set it off
Let's be friends, where my niggers' at
Where my niggers', where my niggers'
Where my niggers' at, all my real niggers'
Where my niggers', where my niggers'
Let's be friends, throw your hands in the air
There's no need to front
Let's see you just throw your hands in the air
Let's be friends, Westside in this motherfucker right here
Throw your hands in the air, Westside
[Verse 1: 2Pac]
Approach you and post a minute, yeah
All on my double 'R', tinted
As you pass bye winking
My eye's freshly scented
What's the happ's baby, what's up
Come get with me and perhaps lady
You can help me multiply my stacks, baby
Currency seems small, I need companionship
Through with that scandalous shit
I bet your man ain't shit, ain't shit
So why you're hesitating
Acting like your shit don't stink
Check out my diamonds, bitch, everyone's going to blink
This be a thug paid outlaw nigga with riches
Cream dreaming motherfucker on a mash for bitches
Check my resume, sipping on Cristal and Alizé, puking
Smoking on big weed, keyed the Cali way, Westside!
Don't like tricking but I'll buy you what fit
I can't stand no sneaker-wearing nappy head bitch
Let my pedigree breathe reason, this' OG
Putting bitch-made busters' to sleep with no grief
Mash on my so-called car, who the man
While I'm tugging on your made-bitch's hand, Westside
Understand this, ain't no nigga like me
Fuck Jay Z, he's broke and I smoke daily
Baby, let's be friends
[Hook: 2Pac]
Friends, where's my niggers' at, come on y'all
No need to front, let's be friends
Because I know you want to fuck
Let's be friends, no need to front, let's be friends
Because I know you want to fuck
[Verse 2: 2Pac]
I met you and I stuttered in passion
Though slightly blinded by that ass
It was hard to keep my dick in my pants
Every time you pass, got me checking for you hardcore
Staring and watching, me and you one on one
Picture countless options, was it prophecy
Clear as day, visions on top of me
Erotic, psychotic, would possess my body
Far from a crush, I want to bust your guts
And touch everything inside you from my head to my nuts
You got me sweating like a fat girl going for mine
Just a skinny nigga's fucking like she stole my mind
Back in time, I recall how she used to be
I guess money and fame made you used to me
What's up in nine-six, fine tricks in drag
Fuck Dre, tell that bitch, 'He can kiss my ass'
Back to you, my pretty ass caramel queen
Got my hands on your thighs, now let me in-between as friends
[Hook: 2Pac]
[Verse 3: 2Pac]
Can you imagine me in player mode, rush the tricks
I got her ready for a booty call, I fucked your bitch
Was it me or the fame, my dick or the game
Bet I scream 'Westside' when I came, Westside
Scream my name because, baby, it's delicious
Got a weak spot for pretty bitches
Up and down, similar to switches
My movement, baby, let your back dip into it, make it fluent
In and out, all around when a nigga does it
You've got me high, let me come inside
I love it when you get on top, baby let me ride
Who wants to stop me, am I top notch
Fuck player-hating niggers' because they cock block
You'd probably hate to see a real thug with vision
What's the game, rather see a nigga up in prison
Why have you changed
Made a living out of cuss words, liquor and weed
A bad seed turned good in this world of G's
Baby's got me fantasizing, seeing you naked
It's a fuck song, check the record, so check my record
[Hook: 2Pac] [x4]
[Conclusion] [x4]
Make money, take money, let's get paid
Come on, get your cash on, let's get paid
I want to be, yo, let me fuck that nigga down
You heard that shit, nigga
Ay, yo, what you going with that big ass
My ghetto love song, set it off, set it off
Let's be friends, where my niggers' at
Where my niggers', where my niggers'
Where my niggers' at, all my real niggers'
Where my niggers', where my niggers'
Let's be friends, throw your hands in the air
There's no need to front
Let's see you just throw your hands in the air
Let's be friends, Westside in this motherfucker right here
Throw your hands in the air, Westside
[Verse 1: 2Pac]
Approach you and post a minute, yeah
All on my double 'R', tinted
As you pass bye winking
My eye's freshly scented
What's the happ's baby, what's up
Come get with me and perhaps lady
You can help me multiply my stacks, baby
Currency seems small, I need companionship
Through with that scandalous shit
I bet your man ain't shit, ain't shit
So why you're hesitating
Acting like your shit don't stink
Check out my diamonds, bitch, everyone's going to blink
This be a thug paid outlaw nigga with riches
Cream dreaming motherfucker on a mash for bitches
Check my resume, sipping on Cristal and Alizé, puking
Smoking on big weed, keyed the Cali way, Westside!
Don't like tricking but I'll buy you what fit
I can't stand no sneaker-wearing nappy head bitch
Let my pedigree breathe reason, this' OG
Putting bitch-made busters' to sleep with no grief
Mash on my so-called car, who the man
While I'm tugging on your made-bitch's hand, Westside
Understand this, ain't no nigga like me
Fuck Jay Z, he's broke and I smoke daily
Baby, let's be friends
[Hook: 2Pac]
Friends, where's my niggers' at, come on y'all
No need to front, let's be friends
Because I know you want to fuck
Let's be friends, no need to front, let's be friends
Because I know you want to fuck
[Verse 2: 2Pac]
I met you and I stuttered in passion
Though slightly blinded by that ass
It was hard to keep my dick in my pants
Every time you pass, got me checking for you hardcore
Staring and watching, me and you one on one
Picture countless options, was it prophecy
Clear as day, visions on top of me
Erotic, psychotic, would possess my body
Far from a crush, I want to bust your guts
And touch everything inside you from my head to my nuts
You got me sweating like a fat girl going for mine
Just a skinny nigga's fucking like she stole my mind
Back in time, I recall how she used to be
I guess money and fame made you used to me
What's up in nine-six, fine tricks in drag
Fuck Dre, tell that bitch, 'He can kiss my ass'
Back to you, my pretty ass caramel queen
Got my hands on your thighs, now let me in-between as friends
[Hook: 2Pac]
[Verse 3: 2Pac]
Can you imagine me in player mode, rush the tricks
I got her ready for a booty call, I fucked your bitch
Was it me or the fame, my dick or the game
Bet I scream 'Westside' when I came, Westside
Scream my name because, baby, it's delicious
Got a weak spot for pretty bitches
Up and down, similar to switches
My movement, baby, let your back dip into it, make it fluent
In and out, all around when a nigga does it
You've got me high, let me come inside
I love it when you get on top, baby let me ride
Who wants to stop me, am I top notch
Fuck player-hating niggers' because they cock block
You'd probably hate to see a real thug with vision
What's the game, rather see a nigga up in prison
Why have you changed
Made a living out of cuss words, liquor and weed
A bad seed turned good in this world of G's
Baby's got me fantasizing, seeing you naked
It's a fuck song, check the record, so check my record
[Hook: 2Pac] [x4]
[Conclusion] [x4]
Make money, take money, let's get paid
Come on, get your cash on, let's get paid