Hit ’Em Up Lyrics (English Translation ) – Bedoes 2115

[Intro]

Listen – just because I say I hate hatred,
Because I escaped the gutter,
Because I talk about fulfilling dreams,
And because I have a soft heart,
Doesn’t mean I don’t have a tough ass
Or that I’ll let you spit venom at me and my loved ones.
I’m really sorry, truly,
For only responding to your bullshit on Monday.
I can’t believe you dropped a diss on the day of my concert.
I can’t believe you spent five fu*king days writing this.
I secretly hope you planned it all,
That you wanted to get your ass kicked a year ago.
And let me say this straight – Tupac wrote this diss for me,
Because Tomb missed his deadline, and I was too embarrassed to ask Białas.

[Verse 1]

What’s up, bitch? You know what consequences are?
When you call someone a snitch online and get elbowed in the face?
Every fifteen minutes, Konon uploads a new version,
Fifteen minutes after you shook my hand.
Fifteen minutes before, I pull up and take you aside.
Butterfly effect – I pull up like a starter.
I did the same with Filipek and Mata,
But neither of them is a snake – they have principles, slut.
They don’t lie like you, don’t yap like you,
Don’t type on keyboards, don’t collapse like you.
So many posts, but you never stopped drinking.
You really got knocked out cold and then made a diss about it?
Chases, shootouts, motherfu*kers – this ain’t a movie.
You talk like you’ve been to war, but you just got punched.
Shut your mouth – there was no guerrilla fighter,
Just three of us: me, you, and shit in your pants.
You ask, “What if a snake bites White in the balls?”
I’ll suck the venom out after pulling them from your throat.
“Hit ‘Em Up,” “Bedopies,” young Odysseus,
Beyond your sea of lies, EriPet washes up on shore.
I set you straight, homie,
Arranged it so maybe you’ll finally get your life together.
“Sorry, I let my emotions take over again.”
Nine years of dissing me – grow the fu*k up already.
Settling things face-to-face is old school,
Now beefs get handled Facebook to Facebook.
I’ve got honor, you fu*king whore,
But you’re just Lil Konon’s office boy.
You’re the one provoking beef,
Eripe online, but in real life, you’re R.I.P.
If you didn’t say it to my face, you didn’t say shit.
You extend your hand, then drop a diss.
Cops pull up asking, “What happened?”
Me in a bloodstained shirt: “I don’t know, officer.”
Once they leave, I come back to you,
Told you it’s over, but you keep capping.
I held your head while calling an ambulance,
While your boys stood around jerking off.
If it was so dishonorable, why’d nobody help?
‘Cause it was one-on-one – king of bullshitters.
If you wanna calculate mass, BAC, and wind speed,
Don’t waste your talent – get a job on a ship.
If you drink that much, you better have a thick skull.
That’s what responsibility is, old man.
You were supposed to “find and kill, roll up with the crew,
Shit down their throats till they cry tears of doo-doo.”
But it ended with puke,
Capslock rants and claims you were drunk.
I climbed into the trunk ‘cause I was scared shitless,
No interviews, no talking to cops,
Just an 18-year-old with dreams,
Not some old has-been begging for attention.
Tomb ain’t texting me, Białas ain’t texting me,
My dick’s texting me, my balls are texting me.
I’m not a fighter, not a gangster,
Face it – Bedoesiara fu*ked you up.
I’ve been bullied, I’ll keep getting bullied,
As long as you live, you parasitic fu*k,
Feeding on pain, wanna be big boss,
But “whore” wasn’t on your bingo card.
You write, “Rap, bitch,” then start rapping.
Go to Pracuj.pl and start job-hunting.
Or get therapy – it’s not weak.
I see you’ve never known love in your life.

[Interlude]

But seriously, old man, I mean it –
I realized in these nine years of you coming at me,
You never really knew me at all.
I’ve never even seen you, you get me?
Maybe we should just go karting.
I dunno, play pool? Ride horses?
Maybe you just need my love, Seba.

[Verse 2]

Hey, you saw me on Netflix, called me “a nice guy.”
I missed you ‘cause we were busy stealing flows.
When I got a problem, I say it to your face, clown.
If TV lies, what the fu*k are you doing?
I’m fat gang, gang, “Bedopies,” “Bedośmieć,”
Great diss, just missing six times six.
And your 2014 statement still mentions a guerrilla fighter.
To my face, you said it’s just rap, just business,
But calling us suckers ain’t personal?
You wanted clicks, used my name,
Now wait till you start promoting your new album.
You’re a poser, too ashamed to admit you’re wrong,
Caved to peer pressure, shat out some bars.
Gained a few fans – aka my haters.
Fake-ass fraud, you’ll vanish when Facebook shuts down.
Hip-hop’s my life, I grew up on rap.
My fans ride with me – more than just listeners.
You mock suicides, but Szpaku’s my friend.
One more word, and you’ll say it to his dad.
I was scared you died, not that I’d lose a deal.
Your biggest hit? A Borka hand-me-down.
Should I have warned you? “Hey, heads up – bomb incoming.”
If your fans weren’t with you, you’d still be barking in posts.
I’ll lose weight, you’ll lose your argument,
But your rap will always be fiction.
I rapped – you should never rap again.
Do this culture a favor and shut your trap.

[Outro]

You fu*king smartass bitch,
Lying to my face when I ask you
Why you call us fu*king troublemakers?
(You don’t even know us, dude.)
What? “It’s just rap, just business, bro.”
It’s just business, motherfu*ker.
We shake hands (Businessman),
Then before 30 seconds pass (Businessman, fu*k),
You’re already posting on Facebook? (Haha)
Am I fu*king dreaming?
What the fu*k are you doing? (Hahaha)
This is a rapper? (You fu*king fraud)
I just don’t get it (Nah, for real),
I just don’t get it, bro (Nah).
And let me tell you – you can have a second diss ready (Mhm),
Third diss ready (Mhm), fourth diss ready (Mhm),
Every one will be fu*king trash (Hehehehe).
And no statements or posts from me (Nah).
But what’s this beef even about?
I stood there for an hour talking to you,
We supposedly cleared the air,
Then you shake my hand and start writing bars in your head? (Rapper, hahaha)
There are so many aspects of this story
I won’t bring up ‘cause I’ve got principles.
I won’t drag third parties into it (Unlike you, whore).
You must’ve bent spacetime
Thinking you’re dissing that kid from ten years ago you used to clown (You fu*king tyrant).
Spare us your fu*king meltdowns.
And to the people with me, my listeners, my fans:
Thank you.
Sorry I’ve been gone so long.
2-1-1-5!
(Hahaha)