Lyrics:
stars made by cinnamon
I feel like 50 Cent, I'm hated, yes, by many men
She look me dead up in my eyes, baby, do you love
Him, or me (or me)
Not one
and a rich bitch
I got niggas still be robbing on that lick shit
Air it out extended clip get your shit hit
Dope bowl stirring coke extra whip whip
50 Cent
Beware of these fake gangsters...
But why they fake gangsters..
c penny for ur thoughts naw I aint givin 50 cents to a wanksta...
I'm the assassin
makes
Sellin' crack viles like pancakes
To baseheads just like the one
That's sittin by the window starvin' for a fix
He spent his last 80 cents
about who's a bigger star, Joe, Jada or Ja?
So close but so far
So many with no start
I can't believe 50 Cent and NY fell off
Then LA came back, then
a minute
That's three dollars fifteen cents
For a fifteen minute call
Do the math
Three hundred minutes a month that we get
Times twenty one cents
That's
a man by the name of Gray
Flour was fifty cents for a twenty four pound bag
Now it's a dollar and a half beside
Just like a skinnin' off a flea for
the world
I've meet all kinds of girls
Girl you look like someone I done fucked on tour
[50 Cent]
(Now everything's changed) I'm rich bitch
(You've
you’re the friend of the working man.
(2x)
(Beat Change) V26 Woman 2
And, finally, the Pure Food and Drug Act, passed by Congress
V27 Woman 3
Gave
around the world
I've meet all kinds of girls
Girl you look like someone I done fucked on tour
[50 Cent (Singing)]
(Now everythings changed) I'm rich
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
game
Hit the cage with some change after
Playing cop a fifty cent soda
After school dunks with the dralics start to roll up
Back when it was real if you
cents
So now we count by tens
Are you ready to begin
It goes 10, 20 30, 40, 50, 60, 70 80, 90, a dollar
It goes 10, 20, 30 40, 50, 60, 70, 80 90, 2
for a cup? Three-fifty
What I payed for a pint? A cheap Civic
You got two ears for a reason, bitch, listen
Somehow I got lean on my BB Simon
How
(Oh, the wine cooler)
Johnny Ryall is the bum on my stoop
I gave him fifty cents to buy some soup
He knows the time with the fresh Gucci watch
niggaz are hard plus we all crazy
Wishing I can be a peaceful man and, hoping that the Lord save me
Fuck a nigga named 50 Cent, you nothing but change
they math
Bitches ain't half cut up crack up in the stash
50 Cent Italian, icy flow
This is that Run-and-Get-a-Dollar-for-The-Ice-Cream-Cone
Cause they
promise
It's fine by me if you die by me
You know I keep the fire by me don't try my people
If I tell 'em to do it at 2:59 you gone die by 3:00
And it's
Yeah, this the Shady Records mixtape (yeah)
Invasion, mixed by the Evil Genius (50 Cent, Lloyd Banks, Tony Yayo)
G-Unit
This rap shit plays
teach the kids, you rather have a bullet or a word to your wig
Murder rates increases, bullet holes the size of fifty cent pieces
Don't worry about
body's stiff
By the same niggas you used to party with
Hands up shorty when you party with me, we goin' way past quarter to three (I said Hands Up!)
pull a fast one
Fifty cent flashin they hate us wit a passion
Mashin, still fresh in three-day old fashion
Your plaid, I'm stripes, together we be
the sky tryin' to blast sun
Zero to sixty in a second, pull a fast one
Fifty cent flashin' they hate us with a passion
Mashin', still fresh in three
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