Lyrics:
Knocked down by some clown when child support knocked
No he's not around, now how that sound to ya, jot it down
I bring it through the ghetto without
and the elevators ain't never fixed
They got my hood surrounded by the steel black fence
It's that to keep the crime out or keep it trapped in
Liquor stores on every
And a brick all these red rubies
If he bigger go pick up a
Stick with a 50 clip and I ain’t 50 cent
Get you killed for like 50 packs
She assuming so she bet her
'em thinking with his dick
Fold his ass up like a pretzel Auntie Annies shit
Get it in fasho get it get it in fasho
I got that power like I'm 50 ain't
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
Try say somethin' new, it ain't nothin' new to say
Everythin' been did, each and every which way
You ain't never seen it done like this, you ain't
Oh yeah, I got the perfect song for the kids to sing
And all my people that's
Drug dealin' just to get by
Stackin' money 'til it get sky high
it aint bout money then you know i gotta dip
And you aint my friend dont even ask me for a cent
Yeah yeah i been on my shit
I go so hard when im in my
the end
Like it’s you verse 50 men
Trying to get rich 50 cent
Or I’m a die with a bloody pen
Sipping dark ain’t talking hen
Crafty beers let’s have a cheers
washed this, smells like R. Kelly's sheets
(Piss)
But shit, it was ninety-nine cents! (Bag it)
Coppin' it, washin' it, 'bout to go and get some compliments
shoulda washed this, smells like R. Kelly's sheets
(Piiisssssss)
But shit, it was ninety-nine cents! (Bag it)
Coppin' it, washin' it, 'bout to go and get
Nigga we gon split this shit down the middle it's simple mathematics
Then it's right back to it that's how the money multiplies
Ain't hard to understand
I got this game on lock yo jogging up the block for a 50 cent taco
Knock yo ass out the box so quick
You better check yo bitches purse I think she got
You're still a cunt
I'm still a fucking jerk
Same as it ever was, yeah
Say it'll change but it never does
Ain't gonna ever 'cause
You're the cause
ain't it?
My true niggas walk wit me, yeah
They ride wit me
Would you cook pies wit me now, ya heard?
Lord, I keep hollerin', I hope You listenin'
How
Doc-Trizzy, Shady-Twizzie slash Aftermath
50 Cent, G-Unit, here we go, free Yayo
Motherfuck a Benzino, they don't know we finna blow
Someone better tell 'em
One dollar and eighty-seven cents
That was all
She had put it aside
One cent and then another
And then another
In a careful buying of meat and other
up til the very end
It's all about paper my nigga
I pop smoke for the dividends
Bullet proof like I'm fifty-cent
Keep a hundred rounds aiming at your
years away from when they say
The world's expected to end
And I ain't even begin
That's more ironic than a bum asking
For 50 Cent from "Many Men", one
cents
Coppin' it, washin' it, 'bout to go and get some compliments
Passin' up on those moccasins someone else's been walkin' in
Bummy and grungy, fuck
Yeah, it's all fine all fine in Brisbane
Yeah, that's Brisbane
I know it small and simple
But it's full of lovely people
Sharing warmth and lovely
Whip it up
Whip it up
Whip it up
Nasty!
Cook it up
Cook it up
Cook it up
Classy!
I just do too much
I'm just getting rich
50 in the trunk
50
50 Cent I'm makin hits now
Don't try an act like you ain't heard I'm the shit now
Some bitches changed, cause they know I'm fittin to blow
You should
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're
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