Lyrics:
squad up for dinner
Put my palms on the trigger and shoot you all in yo liver
Injure all of you niggas, I'm cool and calm as a killer
Your man styling
I took that fella round back to the water hole
I took that fella round back to the water hole
I took that fella round back to the water hole
come across never took loss cause she leaving better
Winners win momma told me to get the dividends, and I did
Many men hating on me feel like 50 Cent
of people, marching up the avenue
Doin? what they gotta do, just to get by
I'm living in the land of plenty and many
But I'm damn sure poor and I don't
get put in that hole
When you shittin' in the floor it make you wish you would've told
You was used to toating that FN ain't no pistol in that bowl
Get
shit on my life, uh
Put my dick in yo wife, uh
Codeine all in my sprite, uh
This choppa finna make you cry, uh
Get the money, issa heist, uh
Step back
shit on my life, uh
Put my dick in yo wife, uh
Codeine all in my sprite, uh
This choppa finna make you cry, uh
Get the money, issa heist, uh
Step back
the last to run
While you hit the pavement son I mash you, ugh
If you don't know you better go and ask someone
50 Cent is my symbol and my name
to 10
Keepin in a cool place from Uncle Ben
You know you messin' with a nigga
That do this for a livin'
Put two in the street while
There's two in
disrespectful
Y'all know I don't care 'bout these niggas
Happy New Year
Tekashi got snatched by the feds, he done
I'm like, "Damn, why they doin' that to 50
of movin' them bricks for my Balenci' kicks
My cousin got shot up by many men
Wish he was 50 Cent
We would still be gettin' rich or die tryin'
Flash out
Walk
Livin' dat, yo what's up black?
Well its my third day home and not a cent to my name
No jobs they claim I'm back in the drug game
I need some money in
right there, keep me right by myself
Just hit me a lick, put that shit on myself
Just hit me a lick, put that shit on myself
My first fifty thou, spend
of people, marching up the avenue
Doin? what they gotta do, just to get by
I'm living in the land of plenty and many
But I'm damn sure poor and I don't
do,
I could be 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
was throwing these tantrums
I grew up knowing how to rumble
But then I found you in the darkness
And I won't put nothing above you, yo
Really been
and a strawberry bazooka,
5 for a haircut, and they can make it thorough,
And 50 cents can get you anywhere in the borough,
Karate movies came on Saturdays at 3,
handled homey checks Like a banking eagle
Knew the insides of tax laws And hiding yo dough
Cause my homie kept Increasing every cent in his Flow
He could
coasta New York Post
Yo New York Post don't brag or boast
Dissin' flavor when he's butter that you put on your toast
Put my address in the paper cause I
(uh-huh)
Now Peter Piper picked peppers, and Run rocked rhymes
I'm 50 Cent, I write a little bit, but I pop 9s (brrt)
Tell niggas, get they money right,
(uh-huh)
Now Peter Piper picked peppers, and Run rocked rhymes
I'm 50 Cent, I write a little bit, but I pop 9s (brrt)
Tell niggas, get they money right,
by the camp fire
I been in the sun check the tan line
Sticking niggas up got their hands high
Twisting up their tongue got their hands tied
Threatening
the million dollar bill folded with green blinds
Chairs is a hundreds for shams I run that hole in quickies
Dollar bills is 'intendos the windows is folded
eatin' steak
I ran up enough finna' cop an estate
If that boy playin' dumb put holes in his face
Yea I'm pleadin' the fifth now they closin' the case
Yea
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