"Come and get some!" {*2}

 [2Pac]
 Ahh yeah, they love to point the finger
 {*1} {*2}

 Boom boom boom on your black ass, bitch
 {*1} {*2} Niggaz love to point the finga
 Boom boom boom on your black ass, bitch
 {*1} {*2}

 [2Pac]
 I thought I hit rock bottom, they ban my album, point the finga
 I guess nobody loves a real nigga-slash-rap singer
 I thought I'd bring a little truth to the young troops
 I brought proof that the niggaz need guns too
 It's not to be a racist, but let's face this:
 wouldn't you if we could trade places?
 I got lynched by some crooked cops, and to this day
 them same motherfuckers on the beat gettin major paid
 But when I get my check they takin tax out
 So, we payin for these pigs to knock the blacks out
 Ain't that a bitch, some officers are gettin rich
 Whoopin on thugs and robbin drug dealers for they shit
 As far as jealousy, bein a celebrity
 No matter who committed the crime, they all yell at me
 And the media is greedier than most
 You could sell em your soul or they'll be on ya til a niggaz ghost
 And everyday I read the paper there's another lie
 They show my picture for the crimes of another guy
 Now how's that for the life of a big shot
 A dead cop, a law suit, a little kid shot
 I play them nuttin ass marks in the park
 for tryin to earn they stripes in the dark
 Just cause I come there, don't mean I from there, peep:
 only jealous motherfuckers beef, and point the finga

 Chorus: repeat 4X

 Boom boom boom on your black ass, bitch
 {*1} {*2}

 [2Pac]
 As I run up on em madman, a nutcase with a screw loose
 A zoot troupe full of foolies with toolies
 Niggaz run to me don't come to me with beef
 Take your jewels and your jeep, boom boom! Let that ass sleep
 It's gettin hectic, niggaz run, quick
 Buckshots are the payback for dumb shit
 All you niggaz on the block tryin to test me
 Best wear a vest or get open like, sesame
 I'll run up on you mad deep; while you're tryin to sleep
 I'm steady pumpin bullets in your sheets
 Wake up, motherfucker, don't stutter
 Point blank by a nigga from the gutter, yeah!
 Gimme mine, gimme mine, gimme, mine
 Ban my rhymes, now I'm back to bustin, nines
 And bustaz can't get none, hell no
 A quick flurry and he's buried with a swelled jaw
 I came up from the amateurs to pro hits
 at 5-0, so you know I take no shit
 And everybody wants to kill a bringer
 of bad news, so they choose, to point the finga

 Chorus

 [2Pac]
 One two three, peace to the real G's
 Still me, til these motherfuckers kill me
 I bring skills and I build, kill at will
 Smoke sess til I'm ill, still feel me?
 I say one two three, peace to the real G's
 Still me, til these motherfuckers kill me
 Pick it up, pick it up, give it up
 Best to duck or get fucked for your bucks
 Scream one two three, peace to the real G's
 Still me, til these motherfuckers kill me
 I can't give up, it's a black thang
 And I ain't goin back to the crack game
 (You can do it son; be a man and stand up or run)
 Bitches, let em point the finga
 (You can do it son; be a man and stand up or run)
 Snitches, let em point the finga
 Yo, one two three, peace to the real G's
 Still me, til these motherfuckers kill me
 I guess nobody loves a rap singer
 That's why these motherfuckers.. (hahaha!) point the finga

 Chorus

 Chorus

 Chorus 3/4