Lyrics:
Food on the plate for the wolves, follow wolves
Don't get moved by the tools
Blood will ooze on ya shoes wait, control ya hate
You ain't ridin' in
really rich)
Every day in drip, I got sixty fits
Niggas trippin' over this, this ain't really shit (that ain't nothin')
Fifty M's through my clique, how
ain't slide me 50
Cents or nothing
Now I be ballin I be saving hunnits
Nfts make a whole lot of money
Hoes they hoppin to the cash like a bunny
Gettin
a little bad bitch like yolo
Fuck for this time ain't no true
In the hood where there ain't no hope
Now everybody ridin' in there like soap
Everybody get
God (yeah)
Oh God (boy)
Yeah, G.O.O.D. (MMG, nigga)
Chain all V.S. I ain't with the B.S
Catch me in your city riding hard through the B.X
tryna send some shots but first, you gotta send a band
Her favorite 50 Cents, she fuck with many men
December bitches always actin' different when they
like we partnas
Nigga we was lookin for a deal and you dodged us
Neva did call us
Where was yo promise
But now we ridin' by
(Listening to the wind
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
Ride that wip that the ballers drive
Big GT Royce Chevy that's ridin' high
Swang on 'em when you ridin' by and I'm gone
Where do we go from here
If I ain't rockin' emeralds and Bentleys,
I'm coolin' in Poughkeepsie,
Me, shorty, new Glock 40, and some bent weed
Ridin' in Mary boo, take care
the mud with my day ones
Remember ridin' fifty deep at G with you niggas
I'm on a different page, started reading you niggas
If I ain't by myself I'm
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
the city had a motherfuckin' posse
Niggas kickin' up dust over colors Ridin' through the hood, suitin' up each other
Sellin' dope to they own fuckin' people
thru yo head, 50 Cent don't care
I cock triggers light the blockup
Iller than times square
Real shit, you spit it 'cause you seen it
I spit it 'cause I
to death and stripped, all over a bitch
Now it's 50 MC's that ain't worth shit
Get ya ass kicked 50 times, beat to 10 cent
I love New York, but the niggas
good)
Bitch, I'm hood (ayy, ayy, ayy), hey
Everything Gucci (woo), everything Gucci (ah)
Everything Gucci (ah, ah), everything Gucci (Gucci)
Bitch,
mouth, you should hear how they talk 'bout me
[Verse 3]
I love 50 Cent, that's my dad
But even my mom talk about him bad
She says since he blew up,
friends by
Help em with anxiety to make sure he aint anti
Socially he nervous & don't like to be in big crowds
But he's still ambitious and like to have fun
the illest playa that's in the game
And he's ridin with Em, 50 cent, Doc and them
G Unit records aint no motherfuckin stoppin them
[Chorus - Nate Dogg]
This
Spray on Suzuki's, eleven-hundred CC's
No plate on the back, straight squeezin' the MAC
In the hood they identify n- by they cars
So I switch up whips
government cheese
Spray on Suzuki's, eleven-hundred CC's
No plate on the back, straight squeezin' the MAC
In the hood they identify niggas by they cars
So
To come through and put a hole in you
(G-UNIT')
Lloyd Banks, ha ha!
50 Cent! I ain't even gotta work hard
Look at these niggas, ha ha ha
The fuck you gon'
wit da county
Every-time I'm in dis bitch
It's like twenty cops around me
Ya boi keep it hood
when I'm ridin' in da chevy
Yea my tags all legit
But i'm
(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,
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