Lyrics:
Happy holidays
Let me come here and talk to you
I gotta stop sayin' I'm not doin' this shit no more knowin' I'm cappin'
(Great John on the beat by
hot
For me me me baby by by by ooh
Girl your not the same, your in love with t-pain
And I cant play this game anymore I wanna keep on jumping around
For even setting that up
Mr. Crab, south side
Everyone pull up (yea)
You want better
But you stuck in a box
You want respect
But siding with oops
Stuck
fiz-ind out?
How can ya fuck a playa, playa haters better listen close
If you try to buck me, bitch, I'm outie with your fucking soul
Yes, the devil's
hmmm, your flow's not
You're so-so going against 50 Cent
That's a no no y'all know better than that
Flowers blooming, morning dew
And the cats just ain't
better when I'm sobering
Grow old fucked up that's the message that I'm going with
Come through
You don't gotta act know you fucking with the dude
50
Scream one last time
When Dr. Dre say crunk, you will get it crunk, get it crunk
Crunk, crunk, crunk
And when 50 cent says jump, you get on one foot
load it up with fucking letters
On this 50 cent type beat
I'm just trynna be a 50 cent type G
And I'm out
clouding the funds
80 cents up in my bank account
I'm gon make it count
I got 80 cents up in my bank account
I'm gon make it count
I'm running from the 5-0
clouding the funds
80 cents up in my bank account
I'm gon make it count
I got 80 cents up in my bank account
I'm gon make it count
I'm running from the 5-0
gotta die, I'd rather homicide
I ain't have fifty cent when my grandmama died
Now I'm goin' back to Cali with my Jacob on, see how time fly?
Hate it
that's faster than a Hellcat
I skrt skrt skrt off like a bat out of a Hellcat
Call me Blaq I get ghost
Come back with the most
Been doin it for the low
with control over my pen
And I don't wanna pay the price for someone else's sins
Don't know about the game but I know that I'm jumping in
Don't know
Obsessed, she's a mess
But she's one of god's best
Invigorated with self hate
Banging inside her chest
Drowning in her emotions
Triggered by
I gotta die, I'd rather homicide
I ain't have 50 Cent when my grandmama died
Now I'm goin' back to Cali with my Jacob on
See how time fly?
Hate
came from the trenches
(Hey, hey, hey, hey)
Ballin' on the game, y'all be sittin' on the benches
(Hey, hey, hey, hey)
50 for my necklace, boy, they
When you stop the programs for after school
And they DCFS, some of 'em dyslexic
They favorite 50 Cent song "12 Questions"
We scream, "rocks, blows,
in 07'
Market over saturated with all the bootleggin'
When it seems better shorty ain't no tellin'
Well, call Lyor, give him this message
Then hit
[Intro]
New York City (New York City), you are now rackin' with 50 Cent (with 50 Cent)
Are you ready? (are you ready?) (*gun cocks*) I said are you
Livin' dat, yo what's up black?
Well its my third day home and not a cent to my name
No jobs they claim I'm back in the drug game
I need some money in
Yeah! 50 Cent, Lloyd Banks, Young Buck
G G G G G-Unit! Haha!
Vacate your home I come to brake your bones
Americas nightmare we at it again
cracker a day (what? Oh shit)
Girl, well, I heard the bitch was married to Tim
And started fucking with Trina
Well, I heard the bitch got hit by three
cracker a day (what? Oh shit)
Girl, well, I heard the bitch was married to Tim
And started fucking with Trina
Well, I heard the bitch got hit by three
thangs
I slang weed, cocaine and hero ayn
50 Cent that's my name
Nigga I bring the pain you thought
Shit stay the same nigga shit gon' change
Put a bullet
Discuss these better come with game by 50 cent Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In