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 [50 Cent]
 Yo, yo we can't stay alive forever
 So if shit hit the fan then we might as well die together
 I'm high as ever, more hoes and more cheddar
 G-Unit move around wit them pounds and berreta'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 ass outta yaself tryin to stop me
 I'm cocky, raps rocky, nigga you sloppy
 You know that I'm, 8 levels above you nigga
 I'll club you nigga, I never heard of you nigga, its ugly nigga
 I'm the wrong one to provoke
 You rattin on niggas is only gon' leave you smoked
 So the only thing left now is toast for these cowrads
 I got no friends, fuck most of these cowards
 They pop shit '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 wit reefer
 And who flip when I call a bitch like she Queen Latifah
 Not all the vehicle's is long enough to stash the streetsweeper
 This shit 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 fuck us
 I ain't here to drop knowledge on you suckas
 I'll sick rottweiler's on you fuckas, 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 berry
 Besides, every rapper ain't a star, nigga plad ain't bulbary
 You can't tame Lloyd, smokin by the big screen
 You changin the channel looks like I'm playin the game boy
 I know the rocks botherin ya vision
 But 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 'cause 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 niggas since Craig Mack
 
Now every morning's a fast start
 And there aint problem gettin dressed 'cause my closet got more aisles than pathmark
 Run, move startin to raid
 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
 We just find out what club they at
 take 'em wit us, and run a train on 'em like a subway mat
 yer advance is a grey acura
 these record labels got most artists gettin fucked like the gay rappa'
 i go to college on a tour
 I'm goin down in history nigga, next to Wallace and Shakur
 I keep ya ammo clean, tec's polished in the drawer
 Camera's by the hamper that mine into the floor
 by now, you probably heard of me
 fresh outta surgery, flashy as a fuck, you gon' have to murder me
 Burglary, were leavin wit cha nike's burgandy, White T, burgandy
 you match now, back down
 niggas love to hate you, but love you when you disappear
 catch me on the boat wit weed smoke and fishing gear
 heavy when I toke, C notes from different years
 Besly in the robe, re-motes for liftin chairs
 We ain't rich, but we be glad to snatch ya
 I send cars to your 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
 Nigga
 
 [50 Cent]
 Still in the projects nigga, you ain't goin nowhere
 you gon' fuckin be there for the rest of yo muthafuckin 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 muthafucka, he ain't goin nowhere
 get yaself a beer, get on the fuckin curb
 fuckin dirtbag 
            
 
HATA BİLDİR
 
 
		
        
        
        
         
         
         
         
        
        
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