Şarkı Sözünü Düzelt

Şarkı

[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]