Lyrics:
get the crown yet
To be a king
That I'm destined To be
the king I'm supposed to be
Or Imma die trying
Like 50 cent
Imma get rich or die trying
Getting
into the crowd
I wanna see who the fuck gettin' loud
Who the fuck runnin' off at their mouth?
I let my nigga 50 Cent knock that ass out
Word bond,
the fuck runnin' off at their mouth?
I let my nigga 50 Cent knock that ass out
Word bond, bitches talkin' bout pourin out Cristal
And Dom P they better stick
need to go)
I'm hoping that my 2 cents will get me dollar bills
Been on fire with NuSince roasting ant hills
No more belts around my neck
Just loops
Myself
D12
50 Cent
Obie Trice
Stat Quo
And I would also like to introduce
The two newest members of the family
One goes by the name of Bobby Creek
Lawry, you can tell, by the way I dress
I walk around, you see the strut, girl you look impressed
If you smile, I'll lay it down, you gone look a mess
and Mahatma Gandhi
Went to the park to check on the game
But they was murdered by the other team
Who went on to win fifty-nil
You can be true, you can be
too
Must get up an' learn those rules
Weather man and the crazy chief
One says sun and one says sleet
A.M., the F.M. the P.M. too
Churning out that
bankers, too
Must get up an' learn those rules
Weather man and the crazy chief
One says sun and one says sleet
A.M., the F.M. the P.M. too
Churning out
too
Must get up an' learn those rules
Weather man and the crazy chief
One says sun and one says sleet
A.M., the F.M. the P.M. too
Churning out that
Gandhi
Went to the park to check on the game
But they was murdered by the other team
Who went on to win fifty-nil
You can be true, you can be false
Qu'du bénef
J'suis l'Milan
T'es Marseille
J'suis triste quand
J'fais pas d'zeille
J'finesse ta pute comme 50cent
I did it by myself without no help
I'm holding us up
50 Cent's in Da Club I'm throwing it up
I don't know nothing about your crew boy
When I'm in the club I get real boy so feel boy
I
(Oh, the wine cooler)
Johnny Ryall is the bum on my stoop
I gave him fifty cents to buy some soup
He knows the time with the fresh Gucci watch
that's a big black bug,
Got your 50 cent fortune tucked under your rug.
You got your zoot suit body bag ready to blast off.
I'm in a milk crate by your
Pan
I'm just kidding, nigga I'm just playing
Still working hard just to make a band
Gotta get the bag by any means
My girl thick I'm tryna be her jeans
of money and don't make shit
I give em change
Since they don't make cents
Shawty like 50 and think she still lit
Imagine her raising them kids
Petty like
loop
Can't give every hoe dick I ain't generous
Keep a strap like I'm Ellen Degeneres
Twenty on the receipt you tip 50 cent
I tip 50% I can't penny pinch
I'm getting older by the day, I'm still here I got to pop my shit
I'm still waking up then thanking god and grabbing the stick
Say it get tragic in
but I got it like this, anything I want imma get, get or die trying 50 cent, little money that I spent for her to let me come up on her tits, I promise
paying him a dollar an hour
And they was paying me fifty cent
They said, "if you was white, should be all right"
"If you was brown, stick around"
'm down by law and I know my way around
Too much, too many people, too much (aha-ha)
Too much, too many people, too much, Raaah!
A castle in the sky, one
like I'm OG King
Wished death upon by many men, like I was 50 Cent
I've been standing out on them street lights, on some foreign engineer
Big booty
am I in a dream
If she sold her product on the street probably be name supreme
Fifty cent make two quarters that's five dimes where is she
Women out
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