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(50 Cent)
Unh, yeah..I like the way this feel right here yo...turn me up in the head phones just a lil' bit yeah.. (50 Cent + (Lloyd Banks) There ain't shit in this world deeper than loyalty and love (Except loyalty and love, between thugs) For you, I pull up in the whip and spray the whole strip (For you, I walk up close and lay a nigga's kin) For you, there ain't a damn thing that I won't do I'm a Thug, this my way I show, my love for you (Nigga for you, I get the coke, I'ma turn it into cash) For you, if we go broke, we gon' rob a nigga ass (For you, if we get knocked, I'ma have to take the weight 'Cause with a record like yours dogg, you ain't stayin' upstate) Nigga for you, I kill a whole God damn crew (Why?) 'Cause I know you'd do the same thing too...haha I ride, you ride for me, my enemies your enemies How could you not love a Thug like me? (Chorus) Would you ride for me? (you ain't even got to ask) Would you die for me? (nigga, they blast you, they blast me) Would you cry for me? (shit, when I die - don't cry for me, just keep reppin' Southside for me) Nigga, you ride for me? (you ain't even got to ask) Would you die for me? (nigga, they blast you, they blast me) Would you cry for me? (shit, when I die - don't cry for me, just keep reppin' Southside for me) (50 Cent + (Lloyd Banks) (Nigga, I'm the stem, you the crack I'm the clip, you the gat I'm the glock, you the mac I'm the artist, you the trap I'm a pen, you the pad I'm the Dutch, you the bag I'm the knife, you the stab I'm the driver, you the Jag) I'm the ice, you the bezel I'm grimy, you ghetto I'm the bow, you the arrow I'm the shell, you the barrel I'm a pimp, you a player I'm dope, you the hustler I'm a nine, quiet me down, you the muffler (Chorus) (Tony Yayo) You can catch me in public housing, wit' bundles of D Or in the Santa Monica mountains, bundled up to ski Since, time is money, I rhyme on the clock And walk through the strip with a nine in the ox You seen the ice, you know it's top notch And when it comes to dice, I'm seeing' shorty to the shot box Banks stop, guns pop through your tank top And leave you wet up like a sonar range drop When I grind, I wear the same thing tomorrow When you grind, it's Showtime at the Apollo Damn near every rapper gotta hide sixteen Well my flow's like a ho that's sixteen I ran through niggas, dismantled niggas They mad 'cause they see me in Cancun bitches But I'm ghetto, straight from the 'hood my nigga If there's no toothbrush I'ma use my finger I got so many minks, and so many leathers The crib is surrounded by animal protesters I'm a grown man, still livin' like I'm young With the mind of an old man, full of wisdom Here the cops come, task force van Rock so much ice, I'm called Jack Frost man And while we sippin' on cris', you sippin' backwash man Your team got heart, but your heart's in my hand You want sixteen bars, in song format Or sixteen cars on your mom's doormat...wha |
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(50 Cent)
Yeah..50 Cent, Lloyd Banks, Tony Yayo G-UNIT! (Lloyd Banks) This rap shit plays a major part of my life So if you jeapordize it I got the right To send a mothafucka at you tonight G-Unit! And I ain't stoppin' to my clique poppin' Swimmin' in barrels of money Ma could walk around wit' a head up and challenge you dummy It's funny, niggas rather see you sufferin' and hungry I'm hungry as hell, skatin' with another nigga's money You lyin' your ass off, you know you ain't that tough I'm pullin' your mask off as soon as you act up You know what I came for, it isn't the game ball Artillary that's about as long as a chainsaw (Lloyd Banks!) By the way, this feels like I'm dreamin' Forty cal. under my pillow, condom feelin' my semen The physical presence of a female, form of a demon That's why, I fuck 'em and leave 'em Get my nut while I'm breathin' 'Cause they thought they'd catch me slippin', now I'm duckin' and trippin' That's a thousand dollar outfit what the fuck is you rippin'? You trippin', more records could get my ass in position Death wish for no religion whether Catholic or Christian Listen, I went through my ambition in and out the kitchen With probable cause, it's probably sendin' out to prison You got soldiers, but you still gotta respect ours We got more four five's and nines than a deck of cards (Tony Yayo) You can take me out the 'hood, but can't take the 'hood out me ('Cause what?) 'Cause I'm ghetto, I'm ghetto Niggas hate when you do good But when you broke, your friends and your enemies They love you, they love you "Cheche, get the Yayo" Picture me being crack, out of town, trips on the trail "Cheche, get the Yayo" Picture me being crack (Tony Yayo!) You can sift me, cut me, I'll turn you to a junkie I'm the number one seller in the whole fuckin' country Wallstreet niggas, they cop me on the low White boys don't call me coke, they call me blow It's time to go, on the bus, the train, the plane I'll smuggle, I'm nothin' but trouble I'll make your money double Cook me in baking soda I'll turn your Hooprock into a new Range Rover I'll pay all your bills and fill your 'frigerator Feed your family, turn your man into a hater Put me in your doorpanels or your stashbox Put me in your Nik's, Timbs or Reeboks If you cop three and a half you hustlin' backwards Cop a hundred grams, you movin' forwards You tryin' to move more birds ...In PA all day, on the corner of Third (50 Cent) You can take me out the 'hood, but can't take the 'hood out me (what?) 'Cause I'm ghetto, I'm ghetto Picture me polishin' pistols, I'm comin' to get you The shells hit you, you screamin' Think I'm playin'? I mean it Man, I done bought all these pistols Lets get it poppin' Start wavin' my emboies shell cases get the droppin' (C'mon) Like if it's down the corner, I got too much pride to hide I'm outside, gun in my pocket just stunnin' I'm stoppin' I'm dyin' to pop it, I'm young and I'm restless, you know my contestants As the world turns, there's lessons to be learned Count all my blessin's, clean up my weapons I'm ready for war, the strong survive, the weak will parish I told you before, hoes they compliment me now like "50 nice chain" Bellagio, twenty grand in chips at a dice game Burn out, can't stop gotta watch MTV, BET Nigga you see me! I wonder if you mad, 'cause I'm doin' good or 'cause niggas feelin' me more than you in your own 'hood And it hurts 'cause you love 'em and they don't love you back 'cause they know you just rappin' and you don't bust a gat You pussy Yeah, explain it to niggas in your hood nigga They know you fuckin' frontin' nigga Talkin' like gangstas on a record, I see you nigga Niggas know me nigga, ask around in my 'hood nigga Read the "Daily News" nigga you see them talkin' about me nigga I'm in the middle of all kinds of shit Pussy, lets get it poppin' G-G-Unit, G-G-Unit, G-G-G-Unit, G-G-G-G-G-G-Unit, G-Unit! |
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Chorus: Brooklyn)
I still be riding through the 'hood Brooklyn to Compton, it's all good From Southside Queens to Inglewood We representin' like we should (50 Cent) I'm hot boy, I told you before Got that Benz and that Hummer off the showroom floor I know you hate it when I pop up, wrist all rocked up In The 'hood, empty niggas locked up, they rats all knocked up Baby after baby, the 'hood is crazy Niggas'll set you up and wet you up, trust me they shady Got a pet bulldog, I keep under my linen It don't bark, they spark when the revolver spinnin' We winnin' (Chorus) (50 Cent) Hold up, hold up, get a good look at my rims God damn, look at them twenty-fours diamonds spin Now the D's, they harass me in the 'hood a few times, niggas try to blast me in the 'hood Fuck it's all good Catch me in the coupe - on the lean Wit' needles and samples and diesels for the fiends The money stay on my mind, so I stay on the grind Plus niggas like to stun, so I stay wit' my nine I ain't the type nigga that be out, runnin' his mouth Talkin' gangsta and shit, with my gun in the house Now homie, you better get to know me better Before you be bleedin' pints of blood into Iceberg sweater When the tails come flyin' up out the beretta You gon' feel like it's yo' fault and say "Man I knew better" Look dogg, I don't play that shit I pull that thing out I'ma spray that shit That how I get down (Brooklyn) Brooklyn she's so sick in the hood Got these fat bitches get the spit in the hood 'Cause I throw diamonds, shot that fifth in the hood That's what you get for talkin' all that shit in the hood Yeah I'm still a minor, remember this Everything Brooklyn choppy broads still behind ya Brooklyn to Compton it's all good Get robbed, get shot, shit is poppin' in the hood (Chorus) - 2X |
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