Tatto Tears Songtext
von 2Pac

Yo, y′all gotta keep this shit real
If they, if they gon' bang on the West Side
We gotta bang back on them
So y′all gotta back a nigga up
Don't let 'em ban our shit
I′m ridin′ for y'all (that′s right)
Go ahead Kad

This some new shit called, "Tattoo Tears"

C'mon
Uh, uh
Many times
Many times
Many times


I said it many times busters still can′t see
Y'all niggas can′t fuck with me
I been, handlin' stress in this shit for years
Blazed out sheddin' tattooed tears (baby)
Said many times busters still can′t see
Y′all niggas can't fuck with me
I been, handlin′ stress in this shit for years
Blazed out sheddin' tattooed tears (uh)

Rock-a-bye baby, I′m thugged out and so crazy
Don't want to hurt a soul nigga, so don′t make me
I got a dream to see my whole team in Lexus Coupes
My enemies dead and buried, now the stress is through

But that's a dream, though it seems like reality
There'll never be peace long as there′s fiends on these Cali streets
Even on the other side brothers ride, but die
Niggas get high off a slow form of suicide

Hide the closest thoughts, the war is fought as casualties
I live my life to fuckin′ mo', exposin′ tragically, uh
How can we find some peace and niggas still ain't get a piece?
I know I′m probably hell-bound, but we got to eat

I'm seeing Satan infiltratin′, my military mind
Make me hustle all the time, go out for cash makin'
Forgive my adversaries they don't understand what we go through
To become a man, we sheddin′ tattoed tears


I said many times busters still can′t see
Y'all niggas can′t fuck with me, huh
I been, handlin' stress in this shit for years
Blazed out sheddin′ tattooed tears (baby)

Said many times busters still can't see
Y′all niggas can't fuck with me (uh-uh)
I been, handlin' stress in this shit for years
Blazed out sheddin′ tattooed tears (baby)

Many times, can′t see
Yo, the outlaw
I been stress in this shit for years
Blazed out sheddin' tattooed tears, feel it

Criminal ways of thinkin′, I'm gettin′ paid wit' Lincolns
Niggas turn made victims, get my rage from a gauge hittin′
Hittin' ya back, you ain't kickin′ no facts
Fakin′ jacks, you and ya whole clique couldn't get the jack

Hold a pound four, you catch a flame from my torch
The game was taught, I want my name in the source
Little nigga, from jumpin′ GZA, now thanks to Pizzah
I'ma tote the pistol, and slang the white coke crystal