50 Cent]
Yo, yo we can't stay alive forever
So if s**t hit the fan then we might as well die together
I'm high as ever, more hoes and more chedda
G-Unit move around with them pounds and barreta's
Yea faggot, if I want it I'm gon' have it
Regardless if it's handed to me or I gotta grab it
Don't make a a** outta yaself tryin to stop me
I'm cocky, raps rocky, n**** you sloppy
You know that I'm, 8 levels above you n****
I'll club you n****, I never heard of you n****, ugly n****
I'm the wrong one to provoke
You rattin on n****s is only gon' leave you smoke
So the only thing left now is tools for these cowrads
I got no friends, f**k most of these cowards
They pop s**t 'till we start approaching these cowards
While we lay around dollars, they lay around flowers
[Lloyd Banks]
I got a intergangstress who argue and steams the reefer
And who flip when I call a b***h like she Queen Latifah
Not all the vehicle's is long enough to stash the streetsweeper
This s**t can get uglier than the Master P sneaker
We slidin through the ruckus, wit prada on the chuckus
Soon as spring break ho's home from college wanna f**k us
I ain't here to drop knowledge on you suckas
I'll sick rottweiler's on you f**kas, cops followin to cuff us
Top dollars to discuss this, whole lotta zeros
When it comes to paper I blow a soul outta aero
I'ma break before I lay floor buried
Besides, every rapper ain't a star, n every plad ain't Burburry
You can't tame Lloyd, smokin by the big screen
You changin the channel looks like I'm playin the game boy
I know to watch botherin ya vision
You reach and I'll put a dot on ya head like its part of yo religion
Why party wit a pigeon?
I'm blowin a 10 cuz Bush handin flyers for a party in a prison
I'm in the gucci vest wit the green and red straps
I'm the last rapper to scare n****s since Craig Mack
Now every morning's a fast start
And there aint problem gettin dressed cuz my closet got more isles than pathmart
Run, move startin a wave
and leave wit 12 shells in ya mouth like a carton of eggs
I'm the young pimp pardon my age
I don't got long hair but if I did she be partin my braids
N****s find what club they at
take 'em wit us, and run a train on 'em like a subway map
get advance is a grey Acura
see these record labels got most artists gettin f**ked like the gay rappa'
i go the college on the tour
I'm goin down in history n****, next to Wallace and Shakur
I keep ya ammo clean, Tek's polished in the drawer
Camera's by the hamper that monitor the floor
by now, you probably heard of me
fresh outta surgery, flashy as a f**k, you gon' have to murder me
Burglary, I'm leavin wit cha nike's bugendy, White T, bergendy
you match now, back down
n****s love to hate you, but love you when you disappear
catch me on the boat wit weed smoke and fishin' gear
heavy when I tote, C-notes from different years
Bezzy on the rope, remotes for liftin chairs
You ain't rich, but we glad to snatch ya
I send cars to crib like I'm a cab dispatcha
you better off wit ya stupid guys, lookin for a coupe to drive
you ain't gettin nuttin but ya french fries supersized
it's a damn shame y'all still local
I'm in a million dollar studio layin my vocals
N****
[50 Cent]
Still in the projects n****, you ain't goin nowhere
you gon' f**kin be there for the rest of yo muthaf**kin life
and yo momma said, I'm supposed to tell you somethin.....
to encourage you, somethin positive
aight well I ain't gon' lie to you muthaf**ka, he ain't goin nowhere
get yaself a beer, get on the f**kin curb...
f**kin dirtbag
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