Discover the poetic beauty in ‘F***** Wit the Wrong N****’ by 2Pac. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of 2Pac or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
Niggas, fucking with the wrong nigga
My seductive introduction be specific, still elusive
But exclusive’s what I give you when I kick it, and I’m still lifted
Niggas can’t get with Mr. Wicked
Picture me flipping my adversaries, gettin’ the dick swiftly
Niggas are swinging wild, but they styles miss me
You can bring that bitch but you whole click’ll still get treated shitty
Business never personal I’m up before the sun come up I’m tired
Just a ghetto star, a drop top double-R is what I’m ridin’
Nigga, if you was half the man your bitch was
Bring yo’ artillery when you come for me, ’cause we sick thugs
No hesitation when I pull and blast, ’cause Syke was bustin’
Plus, Bo had ’em duckin’, screamin’, “Get they cash!”
So now I got the law on me
My phone’s tapped so I had to send word through my lil’ homies
Tell them niggas this the year when they pull the trigger
Shit, this is what you get, for fuckin’ with the wrong nigga
This is what you get
When you fuckin’ with the wrong nigga
Yeah, nigga, peep it
Before I lay me down to sleep, I pray and thank the Lord
For givin’ me another fruitful day
I wanna be a peaceful, man, but still when niggas come for me
All I can see is gettin’ ’em killed
For real, it’s how I feel
Reflect my thoughts, flowin’ on these reels
Make my enemies deal with my steel, they caps peeled
We still cool, but you played yourself
Give him the MAC and make him spray hisself, hey
Fallin’ legends clutchin’ chrome three-five-seven
Puttin’ two bullets to they dome, wanted to die in heaven
Why call in shots? Nobody really as clear as me
Ain’t tryin’ to help the feds get a case for conspiracy
Murder, my foes get disposed of
We all homies to the death, so my true niggas show me love
God, forgive me for my lifestyle, a negative figure
But why they fuckin’ with the wrong nigga
You know?
It’s like, why you fuckin’ with the wrong nigga?
I was raised by thugs, schooled by killers
Learned my mathematics skills from real drug dealers
Tried to rise, but they tried me
I guess they all had to die, ’cause we tried peace
I die in these streets
Blast ’til they recognize
Still do or die, all my niggas gettin’ high, watchin’ time fly
Best strategize on the way to profit
Best organize how you ride, so they can’t stop it
Then keep it poppin’, lot of busters wanna see me fall
I fucked your bitch, and now this new shit, gon’, fade ’em all
My niggas ball, made a call for some back-up
For lil’ homies and my dogs in the black truck
“Buck buck” was the sound as they gats burst
No need for ambulance, baby, bring the black hearse
Should’ve never fucked around, buster
How you figure makin’ moves on the wrong nigga
It’s what it sounds like (ding ding ding)
When you fuckin’ with the wrong nigga
Niggas gettin’ hit, when they fuckin’ with the wrong nigga
Fuckin’ with the wrong nigga