Lyrics:
Barky off the speed nigga
Nigga close to 'em, I'ma do 'em for that fee nigga
Thousand five hudnred dollar on my Balenciagas
Niggas mad at you, you in
gotta know you're thoroughly respected by me
You get the keys to the Lexus, with no driver
You got your own '96 suh-in the ride
And keep your ass
gotta know you're thoroughly respected by me
You get the keys to the Lexus, with no driver
You got your own '96 suh-in the ride
And keep your ass
the collection plate comes by
You put in a ten take back a five
You ain't right
Son, you ain't right
Say the least your different
A couple quarts shy,
Yeah, this the Shady Records mixtape (yeah)
Invasion, mixed by the Evil Genius (50 Cent, Lloyd Banks, Tony Yayo)
G-Unit
This rap shit plays
The spike went through the cross-tie and split it half in two
Thirty-five cents a day for drivin' steel
"Sweat! Sweat, boy! Sweat! Only two more swings!"
have to say goodbye
I got sixty five stitches, is this how you treat my miss
You ant washing the dishes
There are no plates to the tables, the plates
cent blunt spot
V walked the town with space boots, space suits
Fucked up cut but she still say his face cute
Told the streets, "What you staring at?"
His old what-a-burger coffee cup
Read refills only five cents
It lie in 4 or 5 pieces now,
The mug he'd had since I'sa kid
With a puzzled look
chat
But I don't think it's gonna stop
Still going going by the name "Ziploc"
5 blows going everywhere still 'gon pop
I just pay in a hope that I don't
Imma ten digit
Working Nigga
On a mission
I got visions
Call me Jordan
I ain't missing
All you bitches keep your distance
My life
Like a movie scene
just to disapear
When ever you around I'm nowhere near
Take a five long walk
Out to lunch as it appear
Billie boondocks when I kick it into gear
Sippin
Running with choppas gone blow off ya hairline
Ain't showing no mercy, your patna go missing
I'm hurting my kidney this lean that i'm sipping
V-eight scat,
Yeah going off the rip , finna go spend 5K on the fit
Never been broke but I'm finna get rich
She want ten bands I'm a give her ten cents
All black
on the landline
I could sell it by the pan
Or the gram in this
Scramble in the lamb like I
Got the shit pan-fried
So nasty and so classy
Have you lookin' like Ryan
Cos ain't shit intimidating about your sound
You're just two imitating little clowns
A nuisance times two
That's not even worth two cents combined so in
attend to that
And you can take that vest off cuz
Imma put em in ya hat
Point blank walk up ain't never
Did a drive by
Catch a nigga slippin and let
envy me, I'm rap's M.V.P
And I ain't going nowhere, so you can get to know me
On the grill of my lowrider
Guns on both sides, right above the gold wires
at least thirty-four cents and my clothes were smelling like shit?
Ain't get no check-up, I was patient
Now, you come in the mix with a high five and a
"I
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
pain I been stressing shit I'm missing my dawg
Know you won't answer I just wish I could pick up and call
So much pain I been stressing shit I'm missing
The spike went through the cross-tie and split it half in two
Thirty-five cents a day for drivin' steel
"Sweat! Sweat, boy! Sweat! Only two more swings!"
point and I pull it on a stack
Who that jigging nigga who pull it with my own racks
Hell baby, you was missing the shine with my own black
Black and mild,
you don't feel right
From the seventy five plan to day bright
To the cigarettes under the midnights
Yeah, maybe it won't hurt to call
Oh, yeah,
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