2Pac – Fuck All Yall (Remixes Vol. 2 Album)


Until I get caught another ticket get to kick it in court
F*** ’em, f*** all y’all
Look around, and all I see is snakes and fakes
F*** the law give a s*** I’m even worse than before
F*** all y’all, f*** all y’all

Cause I’m a hopeless thug
F*** all y’all
I’m bumpin’ Gloria doin’ 90 ’cause I wanna
Got me locked in these chains
These marks keep on huffin’ and puffin’
I know they wanna see a n**** buried
I still roll with the heater smokin’ chocolate Thai
Ain’t no fear in my heart
I’m getting high and like I said it was some chocolate Thai
They straight busted and can’t be trusted f*** y’all
Ha ha ha, f*** all y’all, f*** all y’all, I don’t need nobody
It’s gettin’ rough collect calls from my n****s in cuffs
When all these motherf***in’ cops be on me
What’s going on in the ghetto still struggle and strive
Remember me I’m ya homie that was down to brawl
And all about my dollars make me wanna holla
Too many problems of my own so I’m rollin’ dolo
Went from a bucket to a rag with switches
It took time, but finally the cash was mine
We had b****es by the dozens "huh" we f***in’ cousins
Way back in the day before they put the crack in the way
I’m seein’ death around the corner
I recollect we used to ball now just living’s enough
Ha ha ha, f*** all y’all, f*** all y’all, I don’t need nobody
Ain’t no love reminiscing on how close we was

It’s like scavengers waitin’ to take a hustler’s place
And hey how much money can you stack in a day
And hey n**** what the f*** is you wailin’ ’bout
All we used to do is drink brew, screw and common knew

A n**** just got paid and we still was broke
F*** ’em, f*** all y’all
I’m screaming Thug Life n**** f*** y’all
Soon as I hit the cell I’ll be bailin’ out
Thug for life sprawled all across the wall

In 94 I’ll be going solo
Money gone f*** friends

Sippin’ Hennessy hanging with the clowns and
I’m sippin’ Tanqueray and juice and what’s the use
Quick to socializing with the baddest b****es
Mixed with some indonesia watch me fly
I went from rags to riches
‘Pac in a slurred, drunken voice:
I know it’s gettin’ crazy after dark
I stand tall in the winter summer spring or fall
And even though I know the cops behind me
Hit the weed and uh I continue doing 90 (Biotch)
Drop an album sell a million give a f*** about tomorrow
I got problems ain’t nobody calling back
I need a homie that know me
F*** all y’all, f*** all y’all
But I ain’t worried still throwing these thangs
F*** all y’all, f*** all y’all
You can throw ya middle finger if ya feel me loc

And when I hit the streets I’m in a rush to ball
All the rewards of a hustler stuck in the grind
F*** all y’all, f*** all y’all
Now what the f*** is happenin’ with my ballin’ cats
And if you stuck, where the f*** is all ya friends