Thug Style – Song and Lyrics by 2Pac

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Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Thug Style’ 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.

F*** 2Pac that n**** ain’t s***
That n**** ain’t from moherf***in’ New York
That n**** be out there with them Cali n****s
Yo n**** man f*** Pac that n**** West Coast
That f***er that always with them New York n****s
Seen them with that n**** man that n**** ain’t from the West Coast
Man f*** Pac f*** that n**** that n**** ain’t really down
Rapin’ a** n**** I didn’t do it f*** it with that n****
F*** that n**** man f*** that n**** let that n**** go to jail right
And f*** that n**** f*** that n**** f*** you too n****

(I’m in this motherucka’)
(I guess these muthaf***as tryin’ to take me out the business right)
(I guess I ain’t East Coast enough for my n****s back in New York)
(And I ain’t West Coast for these n****s on the West huh?)
(F*** e’rybody)

Hehehe
Thug style out this motherf***a’ n****s throw ya hands in the air
If you got Jeep make ya speakers pop
I want motherf***in’ police trying to pull n****s over on this one
We taking this one to the whole ‘nother level gutter style Thug style
You feel me, things that we can only do as a real G
We ain’t dead yet, feel me!!

I got my Hennessy find ya foes
In a room full of n****s tryin’ to hide ya hoes
I’m getting high off Buddha
Cause the times be slow
I keep my mind on dough
You never find me broke
And who me a n**** livin’ life like a G
In that artillery keepin’ n****s off of me
I can’t sleep living in these wicked times
Peep, n****s after me cause they see I’m stacking G’s and heat
You can holler if you want to please
I ain’t runnin’ with no punk crew be
Enemies and my range is on
You’re in the danger zone
My f***in’ game is strong, Hotline
You suckas better find ya mind I got mine
From hustling and busting them rhymes
To my n****s up in Quentin
Down on Riker’s Isle stay rile
But a n**** gotta use his styles, these

N****s don’t know my style
Quick to smile juvenile
Was a problem child
Try to put me in the courts
But my force was wild
B**** made a** n****s don’t know my style
These, n****s don’t know my style
Quick to smile juvenile
Was a problem child
Try to put me in the courts
But my force was wild
B**** made a** n****s don’t know my style

I could be wrong but I never got along with cops
It’s like they stuck
From making n****s duck from Glocks all the time
My mind’s full of thoughts of ends
I’m still rolling my bucket but I bought me a Benz (tadow)
My fake friends say they love me but I know they lie
Cause in the dark see they hearts’ full of homicide
My mama cried when they took me off to jail
Only me inside the cell
Straight locked up in this hell
I hear some sucka’ screaming like the demon’s inside
Will ’em away in the morning
Only the strong survive
I cry but in my own way
Swallow my pride pick a reason to hide
From all the n****s that die (Rest in Peace)
Cemetery full of brothers I buried
It’s going down even now I wonder
Will I still be around my hometown is the gutter
I was born a wild came up out this dust
With my heartless style, these

N****s don’t know my style
Quick to smile juvenile
Was a problem child
Try to put me in the courts
But my force was wild
B**** made a** n****s don’t know my style
These, n****s don’t know my style
Quick to smile juvenile
Was a problem child
Try to put me in the courts
But my force was wild
B**** made a** n****s don’t know my style

I remember Uptown huh got to get to listenin’
To Mr. Magic cuttin’ up the hits
And even though I had habit makin’ words rhyme
I was caught up in the madness
Juvenile thugs come on
I tell the whole story nothin’ but truth
Halloween throwin’ eggs from the project roofs
And Pete and Lee young G’s
With a gift of gab and tryin’ to hook up with the hookers
Who was quick to stab remember mama’s cooking
No school straight hookin’
And tryin’ to get with light skinned
Cause she good looking
And jumpin’ over turnstiles cause we ain’t paying
Call the cuties cuss words but we only playing (biotch)
I’m prayin’ I can get a buck no luck
I had to move around a lot
Cause my moms was stuck
I had family but I was way too wild
Had to move to the West to regain my style, these

N****s don’t know my style
Quick to smile juvenile
Was a problem child
Try to put me in the courts
But my force was wild
B**** made a** n****s don’t know my style
These, n****s don’t know my style
Quick to smile juvenile
Was a problem child
Try to put me in the courts
But my force was wild
B**** made a** n****s don’t know my style

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