Lyrics:
They on the 'Gram? (Niggas hoes)
When they see us
Change shifts like workin' man (yeah)
Ayy, got it out the mud, bitch
I worked my hand (yeah)
I won't
down the street where BIG got shot
I hunt you
And the very next day where Pac met his fate
It's how we live our life, surrounded by Che
Pause
Where
I was with you
But they don't make a liquor strong enough for me kiss you, nah
[Chorus]
[50 Cent]
I don't fuck wit' scurry ass niggas
That ain't got
stick to these hoes
I'll get rich on you hoes
Niggas flip more than O's
Niggas mad that I'm chose
Got that shit we don't want
You got that shit we don't
the cracks by habit, that's a position that I done mastered
Exercise my mind, if they got questions, I got answers
Stand to scrape to the sky, 'cause my
Drunk at the party
Got the top
Catch a body
She a thot
Bad lil bitch
On the dick now
Touchdown
Hoes wanna link now
Ok
Only if you're with it now
Come fuck
With my bitches and they toting poles
I just fucked me like ten hoes
Stay down with my ten toes
Sharing all my money with my kinfolk
I am so done
of mine and as I walked thru the grave yard
I noticed this man kneeling down by the grave of a child
And in his hand he held a big red rose and tears were
grams of Gelato
Got that Listerine nut
These hoes catch it and gargle (Bitch)
Come to close I'mma spark you
So you better think better nigga (Boop boop)
me back to fifty ninth Street
Or ask one of these gentlemen to give me his seat"
J. C. Cohen, what a great conductor
J. C. Cohen noticed something odd
not.
I bought 'em for 99 cents apiece
You, You did?
I know where you can get 'em.
Here we go
For 99 cents
We're on
You got a better deal than I
facade
I think them diamonds lookin' off
You a worker, tell that boy go to the store
He ain't a boss,
Nah that ain't my type
Bad hoes all a nigga like
the VIP
My money can't fit in clips
I tell the hoes when they strip
That they can play with my clit
Ooooh
Boobs, boobs, boobs, boobs, lotta boobs
M.D.B
Uh Um
Man, press play
Yea
I'm Ted Bundy, I been had Bitches, I still got money
A little rugged, I hit my blunt
and I'm gettin' chubby
Don't
that pussy and then gettin it low
Got 10 20 30 40 50 dollar bills
So your ass get crunk show me all of your skills
Keep it real even tho I know you're
Independent, she's got it
And I know imma get her
And she know that I want her
Five star in my city
Need that in my corner
Five packs for the fifty
Posted
like "Let's get it started"
Yeah I'm 'bout to go off
Really got money off I rap
When I fall through the trap I'ma show off
Smoking that KK, you hit
Three colors on a wrist, watch cost another fifty
So So Def D-P-G fuckin' on some real shit
West coast got the best smoke Miami hoes well known for
now he thinking he 50 Cent
Knowing he cap he get no attention
And they can not rap but they beats be hard as shit
I'm on my artist shit
If you wanna
Yeah, I got that heat on me (I got that heat on me)
Gotta watch how I be movin' 'cause they gon' tell on me (they gon' tell on me)
Yeah, that choppa, my
Follow that cab it got dope in it, uhh
My potnah $hort got hoes in it
I'm always hearin rappers big ballin on they songs
I do that shit for real
baby
A nigga fell in love and we look at her crazy
We all got guns and so do Dick Cheney
They trick on hoes i make my bitch pay me
These are the things
alive
Both feet on the line, by any means, I will (Mustard on the beat, ho)
Here I am, here I am, here I am
I know I said I wouldn't but I fell in
original investment
Disclaimer
I guess (Lol)
They say the dollar crashing
I need to take action
For my satisfaction
So I got CYRPTOS
Why put it in the bank
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