Pa-hoo-hoo-hoo
Live from the graveyard
I don't wanna be your man, bitch (fuck that)
You crazy
You heard that shit, nigga (I don't wanna be your fuckin' man)
Live from the graveyard (you stupid you fuckin' idiot)
You drunk, ho
Yo, that nigga crazy as hell (put that liquor down
Ayo, what you doin' with that big ass-
My ghetto love song
Set it off, set it off (I wanna be your friend)
Let's be friends
Where my niggas at?
Where my niggas? Where my niggas? (Where my niggas at?)
Where my niggas at? (All my real niggas throw your mothafuckin' hands up, come on)
Where my niggas? Where my-
Come on, lets go, lets go (throw ya hands in the air)
This how we do it (let me see you just throw ya hands in the air)
Let's be friends (throw ya hands in the air)
Westside in this motherfucker right here (throw ya hands in the air)
(Let me see you just throw ya hands in the air)
Westside

Approach you and post a minute, arm on my double-R tinted
As you pass by, winkin' my eye, freshly scented
What's the haps, baby? (What's up?)
Come get with me and perhaps, lady
You can help me multiply my stacks, baby
Currency seems small, I need companionship
Through with that scandalous shit, I bet your man ain't shit (he ain't shit)
So why you hesitatin', actin' like yo' shit don't stink?
Check out my diamonds, bitch, everyone gon' blink
This be a thug thang, Outlaw nigga with riches
Cream dreamin', motherfucker, on a mash for bitches
Check my résumé, sippin' on Cristal and Alizé
Smokin' on big weed, keyed the Cali way
Don't like trickin', but I'll buy you a fifth
I can't stand no sneaker-wearin' nappy head bitch
Let my pedigree, read briefly, they're so cheap
Puttin' bitch-made bustas to sleep with no grief
Mash on my so-called cum, who the man?
While I'm tuggin' on your main bitch head (come here, Westside)
Understand this
Ain't no nigga like me, fuck Jay-Z
He broke and I smoke daily, baby, let's be friends (come on y'all)

Let's be friends (where my niggas? Where my niggas at come on)
You ain't gotta be my man at all
Long as you just bring me your friends (all my niggas, where my hoes at?)
Why you trickin' on them other hoes?
Let's be friends (Where the bitches at who want niggas with money?)
You ain't gotta be my man at all (Where you at, baby?)
Long as you just bring me your friends (cash makin' hoes)
Why you trickin' on them other hoes? Let's be-

I met you and I stuttered in passion
Though slightly blinded by that ass
It was hard to keep my dick in my pants (damn)
Every time you pass got me checkin' for you hardcore
Starin' and watchin'
Me and you, one on one, picture countless options
Was it prophecy? Clear as day, visions on top of me
Erotic, psychotic, would possess bubonics
Far from a crush, I wanna bust your guts and touch
Everything inside you from my head to my nuts
You got me sweatin' like a fat girl, goin' for mine
Just a skinny nigga fuckin' like she stole my mind
Back in time, I recall how she used to be
I guess money and fame made you used to me
What's up in 9-6? Fine tricks in drag
Fuck Dre, tell that bitch he can kiss my ass
Back to you, my pretty ass caramel queen
Got my hands on your thighs
Now let me in between as friends

Friends (Westside, motherfucker, right here)
You ain't gotta be my man at all
Long as you just bring me your friends (Westside in this motherfucker)
Why you trickin' on them other hoes?
Let's be friends (Westside in this motherfucker right here)
You ain't gotta be my man at all
Long as you just bring me your friends (in this motherfucker right here)
Why you trickin' on them other hoes?

Can you imagine me in player mode? Rush the tricks
I got her ready for a booty call, I fucked your bitch
Was it me or the fame? My dick or the game?
Bet I scream, "Westside," when I came (Westside)
Scream my name 'cause, baby, it's delicious
Got a weak spot for pretty bitches
Up and down, similar to switches
My movement, baby, let your back get into it
Make it fluid, in and out, all around when a nigga do it
You got me high, let me come inside
I love it when you get on top, baby, let me ride (let me ride)
Who wanna stop me? Am I top notch?
Fuck you player hatin' niggas, 'cause they cockblock (cockblock)
You probably hate to see a real thug with vision, what's the game?
Rather see a nigga up in prison, why you change?
Made a livin' out of cuss words, liquor and weed
A bad seed turned good, in this world of Gs
Baby, got me fantasizin' seein' you naked
It's a fuck song, so check my record, and let's be friends (come on)
Where my niggas at? Show me where my niggas at?
Where my bitches at? Thug style

Let's be friends (where my niggas at? Where my bitches at?)
(Throw yo' guns in the air)
Friends
(My ghetto love song, it goes on and on and on and on)
Let's be friends
(Where my niggas at? Where my bitches at?) You ain't gotta front with me
(Where my niggas at?)
Friends
(Where my niggas at? Where my bitches at?) I know what you want
(Where my people at? Let's be-)

Where my people at? Show me where my people at
Where my people at? Show me where my people at
All my niggas now, just my niggas come
Where my niggas at? Just my niggas now
Be friends, tell me where my niggas at
Be friends, tell me where my bitches at
Be friends, tell me where my people at
Make money, take money, be friends

Friends (get your cash on, let's get dough)
You ain't gotta be my man at all
Long as you just bring me your friends (come on, get your cash on)
Why you trickin' on them other hoes? (Uh, let's get paid)
Let's be friends (uh, come on, get your cash on)
You ain't gotta be my man at all (let's get paid)
Long as you just bring me your friends (come on, get your cash on!)
Why you trickin' on them other hoes? (let's get paid)
Let's be friends

Make money, take money
Make money, take money
Make money, take money
Make money, take money
Make money, take money

Copyright: BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Quincy Delight Jones III, Sean Young, Tupac Amaru Shakur