Lyrics:
times
Wanting me a drop-top and a fat knot
And I ain't tryin' to hear that 5-0 shit
I'm black, and I was born
With a survival kit, uh
Ain't shit but spit
of
Hand held don't hold prints plus I burnt the tip of my fingers
I'm a Bronx gangsta nigga, double r's hoodrat
The nigga they come get quick bitch,
what you need (one two)
it's all fucked up now
what the fuck yall gon do now
(50 Cent)
Yo
Yo we can't stay alive forever
So if shit hit the fan
what you need (one two)
it's all fucked up now
what the fuck yall gon do now
(50 Cent)
Yo
Yo we can't stay alive forever
So if shit hit the fan
want babies with you
Stay freezed like a clean baby biscuit
See I hesitate when I see
You talking with many men
I ain't 50 cent but I'd take 9 shots for
Killa-forni-A
Biaaatch !
Hustlers, players, gangstas, ballers, pimps, players
All of those shit, I see all that shit
You know, killerfornia
mama, your uncle, your cousin?
I’m showing love cuz it’s really just nothing
Was up in the club, bottle of bub’
I’m fifty cent, man I’m all the above
I’m
B. song
I maul fifty MC's, divided just by one
Now who's the greatest motherfucker other than myself?
Droppin' lyrical vitamins for your health,
that shit and I got high on Life.
A guy asked me for change, saying my mind was too dense.
I said you wont make cents if you don't make sense.
Big
Cadillac doors, red paint switchin' lane-to-lane
I ain't came to lose bitch, I done paid my dues bitch
Got fifteen years off in this muthafuckin' rap shit
posing postures still smoking
On that dope shit Feezy got the eight
I got the nine we on our go shit
Tryna play me close
My young nigga's on stand by
But
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
me a marksman
Wanna know tonight? My fifth be talkin
Fake gangstas drive by and try to hit me with a clip full
What kinda shit is he tryin to pull?
nothin, she just knows
By the way I look at her to take off all her clothes
Up and down
[Chorus: Lloyd Banks + (50 Cent)]
Whenever I'm not around, and you
and many men or 50 Cent
Shit, I am 50 Cent, haha
a good connect for you, okay, okay
(50 Cent)
Look bitch he can't treat you the way I do
Now lay back, Maybach '62, okay, okay
I got a bunch of paper I
rolling with a swollen bowling ball in my bag
You need a fag and tear a new hole in my ass, you better love me, bitch
(Chorus)
(50 Cent)
My buzz is
Hot 97 blazing hip hop and R&B you now
Tuned into G-Unit radio 50 Cent, Lloyd Banks
Tony Yayo
It's like everywhere I look
And everywhere I go
I'm
And a brick all these red rubies
If he bigger go pick up a
Stick with a 50 clip and I ain’t 50 cent
Get you killed for like 50 packs
She assuming so she bet her
(fast)
It's either rap, or take a penitentiary chance (chance)
This rap shit too easy for me to go back
Ten for a piece of crack, fifty to rap
your next life i'm Notoriousssss!
It's 50, nigga, I'm back mashed, what's up?
Man, this shit getting ready to
Change, man, telling you, mane
man was thirsty, I could tell by his look
Cause he looked the way I look
When I look for a juks, bitch
Motherfucker teamwork, work hard nigga
50 cent
these niggas and I'm going on the run
Tan niggas burn niggas like the sun
And I do this shit for fun what you want
And that's
Gangsta
Want me to turn up
Discuss these gangsta shit rmx 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