Outlaw

Tupac and Rah-Rah:
  "That's right nigga, you gotta get your papers 
in this mother fucker. I ain't mad at ya at all.
Hey yo, what the fuck you wanna be when you grow up Rah Rah?"
  "Nigga, is you stupid? I wanna be a mother fuckin' outlaw."
  "That's right nigga, housin' these ho's, you feel me?
You gotta do that shit. Keepin' it real nigga, or what?"
  "Keepin' it real!"
  "How old are you nigga?"
  "I'm 11."


'Cause all I see is murder, murder. My mind state
preoccupied with homicide tryin' to survive through this trial and rape.
Dead bodies at block parties, those unlucky bastards.
Gunfire, now they require maybe closed casket.
Who can you blame? It's insane what we did do.
Witnessin' evil that these men do, bitches see it too.
In fact, they be the reasons niggas get to bleedin'.
But I'll fuckin' fire when I leave 'em. I shoulda seen 'em.
Hostile ho's catch elbows and grows disposed of,
and snitches get dealt with, with no love.
Body bags of adversaries that I had to bury.
I broke the law and their jaw all in the same flurry.
But never worry they'll remember me through history,
'causin mother fuckers to bleed.
They'll label me a

Outlaw, outlaw, outlaw.
They came into sin.
Outlaw, outlaw, outlaw.
Dear God, I wonder could you save me?

Before I close my eyes I fantasize I'm livin' well.
When I awake and realize I'm just in prison in hell.
Just as well, 'cause in my cell I'm keeping pictures of these bastards.
Excercisin' visualizing' everyone inside a casket.
Picture me blasted, surrounded by niggers in masks
sent with the task to harass and murder my ass.
Will I last? Heaven or Hell? Freedom or Jail? 
Shit's hard who can you tell? And if we fail,
high speeds and Thai weed on the freeway.
When will they learn to take it easy?
Driveby's and niggas die.
Murder without a motive by making mother fuckers fry.
Got me runnin' from these coward ass, crooked ass cops.
Helicopters tryin' to hover over niggas 'til we drop.
Got no time for the courts, my only thought is open fire.
Hit the district attorney, fuck that bitch, 'cause she's a liar.
Now it's time to expire. I see the judge, spray the bitch.
'motherfuckers is crooked,' is what I scream and hit the fence.
I commence to get wicked, spittin' rounds as the plot thickens.
Never missin', an early grave is my only mission.
If I die never worry, bury me beside my four-five.
May God forgive me, I was high.
And label me an

Outlaw, outlaw, outlaw.
They came into sin.
Outlaw, outlaw, outlaw.
Dear God, I wonder can you save me?

(Dramacydal)
Society lied to me I ain't never gonna try to be.
My mob will be doin' robberies and stickups on these wannabe's.
I witnessed niggers lose they chest,
for ordinary reasons niggers bodies put to rest.
So I just swallow my Beck's and holler "fuck 'em."
And if I'm next just let a nigga step with somethin',
I ain't fearin' nothing. Young and thuggin'
prepared for bustin if that's my destiny.
Ready for whatever, see you niggas can't get the best of me.
(Hold me down.) Definitely, no need for askin'.
(Now he mad,) Top speed,
(Smokin' weed,) Blasted.
'cause when I bust 'em they gonna shiver.
The killers cry soldiers got bodies floatin' in the river.
What is they sayin ?
Talkin' about prayin', they need to stop.
That ain't gonna help these niggas sprayin' up my block,
tryin' to take my wealth.

Outlaw, outlaw, outlaw.
They came into sin.
Outlaw, outlaw, outlaw.
Dear God, I wonder could you save me?
Outlaw, outlaw, outlaw.
They came into sin.
Outlaw, outlaw, outlaw.
Dear God, I wonder could you save me?

Fuck the judge, I gotta grudge.
Punk police, niggas run the streets.
It ain't nothin' but music.
Shit's changed.
1995, the game has changed.
Mother fuckers is actin' real strange,
the rules is all rearranged.
You got babies lyin' dead in the streets.
These punk police is as crooked as me.
But all I see is mother fuckers actin' less than G's.
Stop being a playa-hater be an inovator, nigga.
Fuck that shit, don't be no entertainer and a stranger,
be a real mother fucker. Keep it real, pack that steel,
'cause you know these streets is real.
Mother fuckers wanna see me in my casket.
Jealous, mother fuckin' bastards.
I'll never die, thug niggas multiply.
'Cause after me is Thug Life baby,
then the young thugs,
then the youngest thug of all, my nigga Rah Rah.




Transcription 1995 by Jim Moore for Relativity Labs.
Written by Tupac Shakur, Moe Z.
Copyright 1995 Interscope Records. All Rights Reserved.
Used without permisson.