Lyrics:
by the Swiss
Worn by the rich, with that shit you can sniff
Got not time to play 'round, it's way too much in my mix
I'm talking dollars and cents
Southern Smoke!!!
[Speaking]
Yeah. Ho!
It's Drake. Uh Uh. Ho!
Do that dance. Do that Dance
[Chorus:]
You special girl, don't leave me baby
To find
take her out to dance
You're living in a honky tonk world
Sooner or later, all you couch potatoes
You're gonna be the lonely ones
If you want good
plans, and it really hurts
Every time I go fishin' it'd always start me wishin'
That I could be a child again
Take my 50 cents and go down to the local
Nascar (skrt)
Ho Smith and Wess, spendo fifty cash
Sto trappando, uh, con le Saci
Come 50 Cent sto nel club bitch
Sono un playboy senza Carti (grr)
need you by my side
'Cause I don't wanna dance without you with me
Into the purple sky
Livin' like a soulless pirate somewhere lost at sea
row in a Tom Ford poncho, yeah (Yeah)
My bitch sit Indian style, yeah
Smokin' on Runtz by the pound (smokin' on Runtz)
Young niggas crazy put switch
Thursday
Got her rollin up my weed on the interstate
Fifty racks all blues, put it in the safe
She go dance on that dick like a strippa
Fuck me so good, got
no IQ. F*ck who you dial n*gga they can die too, these streets about survival. There's two types of n*ggas in life, 50 cents and Ja rules. Which one
Yo no soy 50 Cent, pero si era un window shopper
Ze pequeño no para, deja vacía toda' la CC's
(toda' la CC's)
Dicen soy antisocial, porque me la suda
be big as 50 Cent in his hay day
No Hurricane Chris, but I been searching
"Aye bay-bay"
I'll turn this fucking place into a circus and melee
Why so
envy
You say you got money nigga really
I bring them racks in by the plenty
You broke as fuck don't got a penny
Don't need yo two cents
You wasn't
I'm a gangsta
(Come on)
Real gangsta, let it go
(G, G, G, G you know)
Uh, the game took a turn crazy, it's all gravy
Thanks to 50 Cent and Shady, they
farm-raised
For 50 Cent, I went to war with many men
Then slapped them with the jacket like Benny Hinn
I'm hittin' that jet fuel, you're new in the game,
Ok it's late yeah
Oh maybe 500 for a plane flight
I'll be waiting for you by the sunrise
Then the nightfall
If you can't then I don't know
We'll just
body's stiff
By the same niggas you used to party with
Hands up shorty when you party with me, we goin' way past quarter to three (I said Hands Up!)
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"
they get is 50 cent franks
And papayas, from the village to the tele
Time to kill it on your belly no question
I got more black chicks between my
(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
they get is 50 cent franks
And papayas, from the village to the tele
Time to kill it on your belly no question
I got more black chicks between my
at the Weiner Schnitzel, got socked in the jaw
By some sixties, I bombed back, the nigga pulled
Out a strap, said it's 6-0, I ducked, then he missed me
Now I'm
to the grave where you noticed I was gay uh huh, uh huh
An ice cream truck
Drives my way by
Popsickle sticks for 50 cents man
My mouth is blue
I lost my keys
and drugs filling cereal bowls
A fleet of limousines idle lined in the lot
A penthouse with a helipad, a 50-foot yacht
A mansion in the Hamptons
be a dime if
A dime was worth eleven cents
If a dime was worth eleven cents
Maybe twelve cents
It was back in the day, 1997, plus ten
(plus ten, plus
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