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

Read the full Hit ’Em Up (English Translation) lyrics by Bedoes 2115 along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song. If you enjoy Bedoes 2115’s music, you can also explore Helikopter w ogniu and Kamieñ z serca, two other songs by Bedoes 2115.

[Intro]
Listen – just because I say I hate hate
That I’ve overcome pathology
And that I talk about making my dreams come true
And that I have a soft heart
That doesn’t mean I don’t have a hard ass
And that I’ll allow venom to be spewed at me and my loved ones
I’m so sorry, I really am
For only responding to your bulls*it on Monday
I can’t believe you posted a diss the day of my concert
I can’t believe you wrote this for five fu*king days
I secretly hope you planned all this

And wanted to get punched in the face a year ago
And I’m telling you right now – Tupac wrote me this diss
Because Tomb didn’t have deadlines, and Białasa, I was stupid to ask

[Verse 1]
Hey, b!tch, do you know what consequences are?
When you call someone an informer online and get elbowed in the face?
Every fifteen minutes Konon posts a different version.
Fifteen minutes after you shook my hand.
Fifteen minutes earlier, I raise him and take him aside.
The butterfly effect—I raise him when they bother me.
I raised him like that to Filipek, and it was the same with Mata.
But none of them are \. And they have principles, b!tch.
And they don’t lie like you, they don’t prattle like you.
They don’t type, they don’t fall like you.
So many posts, but you never stopped drinking.
Have you seriously gone crazy and recorded a diss about it? Chases, shootouts, motherfu*kers—this isn’t a movie.
You talk like you were in a war, but you got punched in the face.
Shut your mouth—there weren’t any partisans there.
There were three of us, me, you, and a turd in your pants.
And you ask what if a snake bites White in the balls? I’ll suck the venom out of them, just as soon as I pull them out of your throat, you snake.
“Hit Em’ Up”, “Bedopies”, young Odysseus
Beyond the sea of lies, EriPet lies near the shore.
I took care of your line, face.
I set you up so that maybe you’ll finally get straight.

“I’m sorry, I got carried away again.”
You dissed me for nine years, you could fu*king grow up now.
Because things settled face to face are a thing of the past.
Today, beefs are resolved Facebook to Facebook.
I have honor, you fu*king wh*re.
And you’re on speed dial, Lil Konon’s office.
It’s you, pete, first you provoke beef.
Eripe online, but in person you’re R.I.P.
If you didn’t say anything to my face, you didn’t say anything.
You reach out to me, then you record a diss.
Dogs come and ask me, “What happened?”
Me, with my shirt covered in blood, saying, “I don’t know anything, officer.”
When they left, I hit you up and they came back.
I said it would be quiet, and you gave me the drügs again.
I held your head, calling for an ambulance.
While your men stood there and beat the s*it out of you.
If it was dishonorable, why didn’t anyone help? Because it was one on one — king of the pharmazons.
If you want to calculate mass, permille, and wind force,
Don’t waste your talent and get a job on a ship.
And when you hit someone in the neck that much, you have to have a good head on your shoulders.
That, old geezer, is what responsibility is all about.
You were supposed to “find, kill, and get in with your friends.
S*it in the mouth and let the s*it out with tears.”
And it ended with: slobbering.
Capslocks and statements that you were drunk.
I got in the trunk because I was full of s*it.
I didn’t use portals, I didn’t talk to dogs.
Except I was an eighteen-year-old with dreams.
Not an old hag who seeks attention everywhere.
Tomb doesn’t write to me, and Białas doesn’t write to me.
My rod writes, and they write my balls.
I’m not a fighter, I’m not a gangster.
Deal with the fact that Bedoesiara fu*ked you up.
I was I’m oppressed and I will be oppressed.
As long as you live, you fu*king parasite, because
You feed on injustice and you wanted to be a big boss.
But b!tch, that wasn’t in your bingo.
You write: “rap, wh*re” and you start rapping.
Go to pracuj.pl and start working.
Or go to therapy, it’s not a sign of weakness.
I see you’ve never experienced love in your life.

[Pause]
But seriously, man, I’m really talking.
I was thinking that for those nine years, when you were picking on me, calling me names,
You didn’t really know me at all.
I’ve never seen you, you know what I mean?
And I’m thinking—maybe we should just go go-karting?
I don’t know, billiards? Horse riding?
Maybe you really need my love, Seba.

[Verse 2]
Hey, you saw me on Netflix, you say, “nice guy.”
I didn’t see you because we were looking for rhythm and flow there.
When I have a problem, I tell the idiot a lie.
If TV lies, what the fu*k are you doing?
I’m a fat gang, a gang, “Bedopies”, “Bedośmieć”
Great diss, it wasn’t just six times six. And in the statement from 2k14 there’s also a version about the partisan. You said it to his face that it’s just rap, just business. And calling us losers isn’t personal. He wanted clicks, he gave my nickname to the title. Now just wait until he starts promoting the new album. You’re a poseur, ashamed to admit your mistake. You gave in to crowd pressure and s*it out a few verses. You gained a few fans, meaning a few of my haters. You fu*king fake, you’ll disappear as soon as they shut down Facebook.
Hip-hop is my life, I grew up on rap.
My fans are still with me, they’re more than just listeners.
You despise suicides, and Szpaku is my friend.
One more word, you’ll tell his dad that personally.
I was afraid you were dead, not that I’d lose him. You just got a contract from Borek.
Was I supposed to warn you? “Hey, watch out, there’s a b0mb coming.”
If your fans weren’t with you, you’d still be barking in your posts.
I’ll lose weight and you’ll lose your argument.
But your rap will always be fiction.
I rapped, you don’t rap at all anymore.
Do this culture a favor and shut your mouth.

[Outro]
You fu*king smartass.
You’re fu*king talking to me when I ask you, fu*k.
Why are you calling us fu*kin’ retards?

(You don’t even fu*king know us, dude.)
What? That it’s just rap, it’s just business, you ba*tard.
It’s just business, fu*k.
We shake hands (Businessman)
Then, fu*k, thirty fu*king seconds don’t pass (Businessman, fu*k)
And you’re already fu*king posting on Facebook? (Haha)
Is this real, or am I dreaming, fu*k?
What the fu*k are you doing? (Hahaha)
Is this a fu*king rapper? (You fu*king fake)
I just don’t get it, fu*k (No, fu*k, seriously)
I just don’t get it, you ba*tard (No)
And let me tell you this—you could have your second diss ready (Mhm)
Third diss ready (Mhm), fourth diss ready (Mhm)
Everyone’s gonna be s*it, fu*k (Hehehehe)
And there weren’t any statements, no fu*king posts on my part (Eh-eh, e-eh)
But what’s this beef even about?
I stood there for an hour and talked to you.
We supposedly explained everything.
And you’re shaking my fu*king hand and already making up verses in your head? (Rapper, hahahaha)
And there are many aspects of this story
That I haven’t touched on, and I won’t touch on, because I have principles
And I won’t involve any fu*king third parties in this (Just like you, wh*re)
And for you, the time-space system must have been twisted, fu*k.
How did you think you were dissing that teenager from ten years ago, the one you fu*king ran over (You fu*king tyrant, little tyrant)
Spare me your fu*king bulls*it.
And to the people who are with me, to my listeners, to my fans:
Thank you
And I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long
2-1-1-5!
(Hahaha)