Lyrics:
It ain't my fault how you gone broke like 50 cent I am the troll
If you want beef, just let me know, I be waitin at your door
Like ya barber, ACP gon'
get it
Out the dirt
Sun rise
Putting in work
Sunset
Putting in work
All day
Putting in work
Yea
It′s kinda ironic
I get my money from the dirt
Cause I
the fear of becoming you to get me though college
So don't die, far away, don't die yet
I just smoke
Don't die, don't die yet, far away things take
yo
I coulda told ya so, I'm no dummy
Girls out there will act funny for the money
If ya rollin' in dough, she'll treasure ya
Instead of a pager she
stop
My money long now, I can make the Pope get shot
Now, we can blow an hour talking bout the stones I rock
All the hoes I got, 'cause he stunts in
'm on
'Cause 50 this, 50 that, 50 stay with a gat
Thirty-two shots in the clip, hollow tips in the Mack
But when I come through, shh the talking stop
My money
teaching me/
[50]
So explain to me/
Like when I’m coming up, niggaz is like “yo who wit em”/
Like “who he wit?”/
Me nigga/
I’m by myself, I do what I wanna
Lot of money, man
Shit don't stop
Whole lotta money
Never
That's all it's about
I'ma go get mine regardless
I might put a bed in the Range
[50 Cent]
ay , yo we can't stay alive forever,
so if the shit hits tha fan then we might as well die together, im hi as ever, more hoe's and more
Taking nine shots like she's 50 Cent
Coughing like she challenge cinnamon
Gas Gas Gas Gas 1500
1500
I want that green guacamole
Lot of cheese macaroni
love
Stick by my side, get anything you want, love
Let's throw some dubs, baby, fuck the ones, love
I think I got too zooted
Stripper bitch, she
that are trickless but still try to go get the better of me
Hundreds and fifty's got me feeling lifted and I didn't even spark up on the weed
But when I
but it's store money (alright)
Gotta let the money talk for like I don't show money
We're totin' Glocks with circle clips, it hold a fifty
I
niggas they fake counterfeit
Bad Puerto Rican, She heaven sent
Give her the power like 50 cent
Fuck for hour I had to vent
Stepping on shit like a elephant
like TLC (Phew)
Just told this hoe she ain't worth 50 cent, bitch, you know I'm a P-I-M-P
Yeah (Phew)
These niggas be triflin', they pockets on E
These
stripped-down Model A
At Harold's Super Service, we do grease jobs
We fix fifty, sixty flats every day
And just about the time we get real busy
Here comes this
me inhale
No time to look up in the sky
Dry your tears and stop cryin'
50 Cent show us at 2005
There's a lot of fake goals so Get Rich or Die Tryn'
Many Men by 50 Cent
You owe me money I'm petty like Curtis pay your rent
I swear these Niggas stunt for the gram but pockets be on lint
No Air Up There
on the block til the sun go down
Nigga I fuckin' hustle, nigga I get money!
I can get money doin' anything!
I got them bricks for the high, and the purp
Makin five fifty somethin, barely controlling shit
Keep frontin, I'ma hurt ya
Now your face getting scraped by asphalt
Off a somersault, flesh wound
Bring
I'll tell you what shorty get in man I'll show you how to...
Tote that tool, make that double
Better be cool you don't want no trouble
Can we lean
so, I'ma get her 'fore the night's over (yeah)
Dj play my shit so I'm finna crank up off in the VIP zone (hey)
See the money go up and she dance
it aint bout money then you know i gotta dip
And you aint my friend dont even ask me for a cent
Yeah yeah i been on my shit
I go so hard when im in my
I'm gon' feature Em and get rich
And let Dre mix the shit
And drive off in the
Range Ro' 'Cause everywhere
I go they love the "bling-bling" flow!
Bang
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