Lyrics:
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
wishin' we could bring them
Back with songs like dis
Old flicks on us chillin' wit
Da old time clique
Holdin' nines, thoughts of death
Not our lives we risk
listening to 50 Cent out in
Area 51 cruising in a pick-up
Who wants to play a game of 52 card pick up?
53 players on the field studio 54
I ain't staying very
haha
the ghetto's trying to kill me
and if you live to see 95 most of ya'll fools can feel me
come take a ride in my 6-4
I'm not Dr. Dre
that you got a man but it's so hard for me
Not to stare at you up in this club
You know I walked in I got a big bag on me
I got some hundreds and fifty's
In these veins I'm running ice, I'm so nifty
I don't give 2 cents, I give 50
The bigs made way for me to be legendary
Don't even doubt it
We getting
drill mugged or thugged out
Blood in or blood out, son was bugged out
Might look at you and slice you
Buck fifty face stupid and say but run Nike swoop
where i started sure ain't for me
the B.G.
that's the name I go by
test me
you die S Kangol why
hide out
at the club, slide out
ride out
yo'
[Chorus]
I pulled up to the club on dubs
They say look at them go
Look at them go
And raised up with some girls tryin' to cut 3 times in the room
dem meds
Their lives are a mess
Every day’s full of stress
Stuck in the endz, lost in the trends
Another weekend, not a red cent
A dozen of mates
She ain't even fuckin me
I cant stand this shit
I just wanna live comfortably
Called my homie Lou
Told him what it do
I'm tryna by a pack man
What's it
Money over, bitches, streetcodes that I live by Man, I gotta stay fly I gotta have the finest things in this ratchet line King D and Yeppa King and myself
man
Songwriter rapper engineer
They say be careful
And I tell em I don’t live in fear
I hate to say
Hate to say
But I’m saying it
I’m craving change
Sandler was
Fuckin' in the first 50 Dates
That's kind of a low blow I shouldn't
Have made fun of that car crash
That was some hard shit to live through
But
Puttin fingerprints on my bicycle
Walkin up to have a drink at the club ?there is? three Irish chicks
Lookin at me like I'm sick
Walkin by chin-chins I
[Chorus]
I pulled up to the club on dubs
They say look at them go
Look at them go
And raised up with some girls tryin' to cut 3 times in the room
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
a hundred, you a dub (nothin')
Lookin' for me, I'm booked up (where you at?)
50 Cent, I'm in the club (hey)
Diamonds on my earlobe, ice on dyke (huh?)
that defied rhymes will force the blind eye
To see that I was in the white Rolls Royce with five .9's
When you was pretendin' to be the white Royce da
laugh
Tell a bitch I'm pressed for time, tryna cut a brick in half
I'm talkin' thousand times two-fifty, niggas stuck on Instagram
You would think I
in the seat
When we creep wit the heat
That's how we get down
Wise men listen and laugh while fools talk
Stick up kids don't live long in New
and you'll end up in your lawn
It's the protege of 50, inspired by Biggie
Burns more than Ziggy, them lil' niggaz dig me
I been stressed out lately, so I'm
war'n, hat uns keiner gepusht
Die andern Jungs aus der Hood sind ständig rein in die Clubs
Und zu viel Weißes geschnupft oder paar Teile geschluckt
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
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