Lyrics:
the trenches, it's the Patti's Dooke
(It might blow up but it won't go pop)
(It might blow up but it won't go pop)
(It might blow up but it won't go pop)
yourself, cheap in Texas if you can drive past
Besides that, nigga current or make five cents
It's seven, eight or nine, seventh time a month supply that
By
one but i don't know why
50 Cents to my name
I'm still laughing to the bank like ha ha ha ha
Light up and blow that smoke in the sky
I just lit another
I'm still burning duct tape.)
Bitch!
Nigga, this rap shit slow?
I'll be back selling blow
Posted right there by the store
Selling narcotics for
to the Bentley
Broke niggas would wrench it
Tryna keep the peace but
Hoe niggas prevent me
Rich shit nigga, y'all 99 cent cheap
I don't give a fuck boy, all my
ain't nuttin change
You move I'll blow your brains
Yea
Lloyd Banks nigga
Whats up nigga?
It's 50 nigga
You fuckin wit him right?
I know you fuckin wit
baja crunk
Mr. Conk
Now it is the next day
I think I'm gonna pray
I'm just kidding
I got angels that I gotta slay
I'm the demon Lucifer
Recruited by
old school making new moves
Amused by these characters and cartoons
How many emcees on a black moon end up lost in this shit?
That's it
Can't follow
old school making new moves
Amused by these characters and cartoons
How many emcees on a black moon end up lost in this shit?
That's it
Can't follow
Money made is your woe
As if you didn't know
Money made you the woman you feel
Five hundred, take ten and two scores
I know the way it goes
There's
up on the flight
Couldn't watch the time fly by
Turning to a king
I was a prince like cyhi
Bet the music slap every time we ride By
Dawg I'm on the 5
fights at school
Whoever came and made it there fresh was cool
So that taught me
I started stealing dean's walkie-talkies
Five cent a chip
I'd have to fold my beard
Check one, two, Sonny, tell Bob to dim the lights up
You see the studs, I want the red strobe to hit it right
Stones are
Niggas want to get it crackin', we don't give a fuck
Boy, you fuck around we 'gon hit yo ass up
This is 50 Cent, Banks and Yayo in the club
Runnin'
it ain't on 'til I say it's on, pause, it's on
I'm eatin', y'all niggas fastin' like it's Rimadon
Bowlish way in Lebanon, know 50 the bomb
I be
Dámelo Dámelo Dámelo Dámelo come on give it to me
Cent, 5 cent, 10 cent, quart, dollar but I don’t need cash to make the girls holler
Verse 2
Jah said
Body in the matrix
Surgical
It’s by design
Known for catching wreck but I can manage it
Revving up my engine
A mechanic with a manuscript
Balancing my
you need to pick a different goal
Business with my folks, but a nigga still up in this hole
Switching up my roles, it be like "what the fuck I'm living
want to get it crackin', we don't give a fuck
Boy, you fuck around, we gon' hit yo ass up
This is 50 Cent, Banks and Yayo in the club
Runnin' around
the nonsense
Murder One shit, that's how it get - muh'fucker what
[50 Cent]
I put the fifth to your head, your white tee turn red
Nigga now give up
choked
He's so mad, but he won't give up that easy, no
He won't have it, he knows his whole back's to these ropes
It don't matter, he's dope, he knows
choked
He's so mad, but he won't give up that easy, no
He won't have it, he knows his whole back's to these ropes
It don't matter, he's dope, he knows
change shit up
Can't console shit when the game went up
Boy i really hate saks 5th, I'm a star and in the making you a asterisk
Bitch a bag getter, you
Don't talk me to death
[50 Cent] G, H
[Scarlett] It's elementary
[Scarlett]
Picture me rolling Range Rover
Same color your Air Force Ones
White on white,
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