| 
 
[Intro] 
 Ha ha ha! I told niggaz not to shoot dice with me 
 Look at this stack, I got money, I got money!! 
 Ha ha ha.. 
 
 [Intro: 50 Cent] 
 Ahh nigga don't trip, I'll kill you if you fuck with my grip 
 I won't hesitate to let off a clip 
 Ahh nigga don't trip, you gon' make me get on some shit 
 Run up on you quick, wet up your whip 
 Ahh nigga don't trip, you gon' get your monkey-ass hit 
 Runnin your lip, tryin to fuck with my clique 
 Ahh nigga don't trip, in case you didn't know who this is 
 It's 50 Cent bitch, G-Unit 
 Ahh nigga don't trip 
 
 [50 Cent] 
 I come through your hood, stuntin in my yellow Lamb' 
 Murciélago, top down, nigga damn 
 I'm the biggest crook from New York since Son of Sam 
 Cruisin, bumpin Buck's shit, Ruger in my hand 
 Thinkin the East ain't enough, it's time to expand 
 I plan to head out West and plant my feet down 
 A nigga big as King-Kong in the street now 
 I do a little house shoppin, and buy me a crib 
 It's palm trees and pretty bitches out in Cali kid 
 I touch the Hollywood paper, go and shoot me some flicks 
 Have some supermodel bitches come and suck on some dick 
 Mama'll turn in her grave if I married a white chick 
 But baby'll suck the chrome off a Chevy an' shit 
 Niggaz be wearin fake shines, I'm rockin a lil' charm 
 30 carats on the pinky, kiss the ring on the Don 
 Crack open that Cali bud, stuff the weed in the palm 
 
 [Chorus: 50 Cent] 
 And if you hustle, for me I'll hustle harder 
 I got what you need, them trees that hard that powder 
 My niggaz move G-packs, every hour on the hour 
 They shoot when I say shoot, so I'm in a position of power 
 You fuck around if you wanna 
 
 [50 Cent] 
 Where I'm from you learn to blend in or get touched 
 I don't need niggaz for support, I don't walk with a crutch 
 Niggaz know my steez, they don't fuck with me son 
 You got a appetite for hollow-tips, I feed you my gun 
 This is Ferrari F-50 shit, it's real laid back 
 Type shit you recline to in the Maybachs 
 I got two shooters now on the run from the fuzz 
 You get the same shit for 10 bodies you get from one cuz 
 I live life in the fast lane; hundred miles an hour 
 Chrome and some woodgrain 
 You know a nigga still really tryin to move 'caine 
 Make a little extra money on the side mayne, I ain't playin 
 I'm up early with the bird's word, puttin that work in 
 Pirellis on the porch chirpin, I'm makin moves 
 I got a hundred mill' from music, a hundred grand from crack 
 I'm goin to see my jeweler so I can blow a stack 
 
 [Chorus] 
            
 
HATA BİLDİR
 
 
		
        
        
        
         
         
         
         
        
        
					 | 
				
			
Yorum Yapın