Lyrics:
[50 Cent]
G-Unit!
[Chorus: x2 50 Cent]
Baby you got, you got, you got, you got what I want
Baby you got, you got, you got, you got what I need
thousand in there (G-Unit radio)
When the drama get to poppin'
It don't bother me, it don't bother me
(50 cent) when the shell casings get to
Droppin' it
that money man (yeah)
Let's get that money man
Let's get that money man (yeah)
G-G-G-G-G, G-Unit!
50 Cent uhh, Greg Street, ATL to Dallas
You heard me?
wanna adapt
But did we both fall straight into a trap
Cause when I'm with you it's your habitat
So I don't love you if I don't say it back
Even if its
the park
I want in on it
The bullshit I'm on right now nigga
I've been on it if I don't eat, nobody eat
Cold in the street no surrender, no retreat
My niggas
and break 'em down
If you want I can serve 'em by the pound
Shorty know she's got what I wanna flip
Baby girl tell me you can handle it
Well, if you want it
Ya'll niggas want to get high, well we gonna get high then
This shit right here is drugs, ya'll for sell baby
50 Cent uh, take it how you want
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
five is a little like counting by fives
In fact, if you count it along on your fingers as you count it out loud by fives
Your fingers will tell you how
York, I ain't got a car
Ambiance of the Alta Mar, nonchalantly coolin' by your broad
Hard, how much it cost? You gotta ask, you not someone I should be
Cant stop if you are in my eyes
A lot in my neck of the ice
No pick, no draft
If you are talking about bitches want twice
Men please, get out of my place
the components
Well
Shit if you want it
Jump up on it
As I compose a sonnet
If I'm honest
Got the clarity of shamans
When I'm bombing
Instrumentals
Killing more
no sand in it
I keep it real when im spittn
Cus fuck what they want
Bitch i am what you gettn
Ian finna lie i be tryn be forgiven
This nine by my
Finna do nigga
Murder at it's best
This is rap at it's finest
You can see my verse
Even if you the blindest
My raps is vivid, ya bitch I hit it
All ready
and sweet like cinnamon
But everyday like 50 Cent, yes, many men
They wanna take me out the spot, they want the pussy and the ends
But separate the paper
It’s kinda hard when you out numbered 1 to 50 - 50 to 1
It’s kinda hard when you out numbered 1 to 50 - 50 to 1
It’s kinda hard when you out numbered
100s on 50s on 50s on 100s
I pullin’ up, know you bitches don’t want it
Up in this club like we own it
See you in there actin’ phony
Tell your bitch
Uh, yeah, G-Unit, uh, yeah 50 Cent, uh, yo
Timbaland sounds so good
But I might not be ready i don't know
If I spend a 100 grand on the beat
Then we
will it stop
Jay and Dame ain't speaking
Game and 50 Cent beefing
Then Cease got Lil' Kim knocked
I'm hearing all this from the jail
While I'm
paying him a dollar an hour
And they was paying me fifty cent
They said, "if you was white, should be all right"
"If you was brown, stick around"
Got to live for today cause tomorrow ain't promised to me
Don't just want a piece I want my whole destiny
If you got it, I'm gone take it
If you
Same way you make cyanide, same way you make amaretto.
Hip-hop's in the street, now were all busting
50 Cent's on MTV, now it's cool to carry metal
all free fo' I leave I'ma buy out the bar (Put 'em up, put 'em up, put 'em up, put 'em up We came to party)
You can order what you want it's on me I'm
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