\"All Out\"(feat. Outlawz)[hellicopter propeller turning]\n\n[Kastro&Napoleon]We goin all out (aiiiite)We goin all out (aiiiite)We goin all out, watch ya motherfuckin mouth niggaz(That\'s right, fuck these fag niggaz)Do it, do it, do it[2Pac]\nCome hell or high water, down to slaughter opposers\nJust another lost soul, stuck, callin Jehovah\nOutlaw \'til it\'s over, brand as my strap\nBack like a cobra, I stay drunk, cause I\'m a mad man\nWhenever sober, on a one man mission\nMy ambition to hold up the rap game\nWhile I pluck holes in niggaz like donuts\nAnd still down to die for all my souljas\nLike hillbillies, they don\'t fear me\nSo refuse bringin war to the city\nWith each breath, death before dishonor\nNever let you swallow me, no apologies, your honor\nA general in war, I\'m the first to bomb\nWith a squad of trusted killers, quick tomove shit heavily armed\nI\'m similar to Saddam, sometimes I question Hussein\nLike fiends frantic for that last vein, stuck in the game\nI hit the scene like sandstorms, then transform, watch me\nI take the figure of dirty niggaz, who all got me\nWhile bitches wonderin who shot me\nNo love, keep a grudge, shootin sluggs like Muammar Quadaffi\nMurder my friends, build a new posse\nWe takin shots at paparazzi, go and fly now, nigga like Rocky\nYou got a lot of nerve to play me\nAnother gay rapper, bustin caps to Jay-Z\n(buck buck buck buck buck buck)\nAnd still avoid capture, while y\'all caught up in the rapture\nStill after me, I\'m in Jamacia sippin daquiris, no doubt\nWe used to havin nothin, then grabbin somethin and bustin\nWanted to be the thug-nigga, that my old man wasn\'t\nI came to a field, catchin cases, litigation\nNiggaz playa-hatin, got me crooked in all 50 states\nI\'m screamin DEATH ROW, throwmy WESTSIDE, ain\'t no thang\nWe was raised off drive-by\'s, brought up to bang\nWe claim mob, M.O.B. if you be specific\nWe control all cash from Atlantic-Pacific\nAnd get this, I\'m hard to kill, when I peel with this live spot\nFather, how the hell did I survive, these five shots?\nLive it up, of give itup, and my demons\nLate night, hear them screamin; we goin all out!\n\n[Chorus: EDI]\nWe goin all out, bomb first till they fall out\nTake them the war route, without a doubt\nBall, which means we all ride if it\'s on\nEach nigga handle ya own, bring it on strong\nIf you got bills to pay, nigga go all out\nBustas playin with ya peeps, betta go alloutTry\'na see the next day, nigga go all outObstacles in ya way, you better go all out[Napoleon]\nI\'m on my land sled, walkin through the belly of the beats\nFeelin like I\'m all out, drunk as can be\nIt\'s plain to see, that we mobb niggaz hidin\' in bushes\nClaimin that they ride rough, but they soft as they cushion\nThey softer than bitches in the worst way, drownin in blood\nOutlawz myblood brothers, I\'d die for these thuggs\nSay hi to this slug, it\'s a shame how some niggaz on the west coast\nwas ridin with Pac, but when he died, they went pop\nI\'m on the Jers to the fullest, like some west coast love\nBut after Pac stopped rappin, it ain\'t no west coast thug\nJust westcoast what? Tomy real niggaz stuck in the street game\nCause rappers like Jay-Z be pumpin Kool-Aid through they veins\nIs it true what I\'m sayin? Slap your soft ass to the floor\nAnd watch my fo-fo put peek holes through your door\nI ride or die, but these other fag niggaz be bitin this\nIt\'s all from my heart when Iwas writin this\nAll out\n\n[chorus]\n\n[Kastro]\nNow, we all ride, and down to die who wit us\nSpeak up, or get treated like you comin to kill us\nAin\'t nothin but squealers, in this rap game, swearin they rough\nTattooed up, and now them niggaz swearin they Pac\nStop that, and watch ya back, we ain\'t forgot bout cha\nThese glocks hot, and when shot, it\'ll bring the bitch up out cha\nIt\'s me, Kastro with the goattee\nWalkin\' like a OG, cause all these fag motherfuckers owe me\nI pray to the thug lord, like that motherfuckers holy\nFrontline soulja, till the heavens call me\nI go all out, and if you real, you real\nFeel what I\'m talkin\' bout, cause this game is ill\nI live it, forbidden fruit, shoot, \'till they feel it\nLivin\' proof, Pac breed niggaz, they can\'t deal wit\'\nHolla back, right back, and watch ya mouth\nOr get blood in it, WHAT, we goin\' all out\nNigga\n\n[chorus - 2X]\n\nfool, you better go all outkeep goin\' all out\nall my niggaz goin\' all out\nwithout a muthafuckin\' doubt 2pac, all, out, tupac