Lyrics:
ain't never seen blood stick to 8 Mile
Aye we smokin' on that Reggie, not not Mill nigga
You ain't never shot dots in the field nigga
You ain't never been
Trailer for sale or rent rooms to left fifty cents
No phone no pool no pets I ain't got no cigarettes
Ah but two hours of pushing broom buys
Flip a quarter 50 cent
Money at a checkpoint
Transform to bitcoin
Endless supply no endpoint
See all this money standpoint
Turn a 8th to a Q
Half
nighttime blazing
There's no better feeling or a scene to replace it
Different time, past age outer space man
V8 redline blastoff no brakestand
And I'm off
options
Scared of what I might find
Scared to make the wrong move
I just need the right sign
Bet my last 50 cent I'd get rich or die trying
I can see it in
to the rear
I told em who the hell I was and they open the clear
You niggas should of help mystikal instead of the bear
This 50 cent in my pocket came from
through with the 22
#23 -I'm the Jumpman
For 24 hours I've been drunk, man
25 cents used to get you a phone call
Ran 26 miles and I kicked
Through a stone
Ahaha yeah
I miss the good old days
Riding around listen ta Luda
Listening to Redman
Rapping bout buddha
Eminem and Dr. Dre
Snoop and Errybody
50 Cent was
me
Grew up in the slums never dumb was friendly
But the streets beat it outta me tell 'em I'm deadly (I'm deadly)
By the end of 5th grade more than
by 11 bout 400 briccas
Hop on the freeway
Throw that 50 cent in yeah
Make that shit look good
Ashley from the wood yeah
Rental from Abdul
Swear that
shit, maybe I'm on my 50 cent
I mean I have taken 9 shots, one more and hold the rocks
Like Pat Tillman, I'll put this 40 on your chest
I'm Sia with
around
I sing, trailers for sale or rent
Rooms to let, 50 cents
I'm a man of means by no means
King of the road
murder, and got locked up in jail,
And had to hang until your life was done,
I wouldn't call it murder for inspection not a rope
I'll be by your side
With something gorgeous
Put highway miles on these bitches
Like a tour bus
Daddy Warbucks, without a born trust
Diamonds all on this black gold
Like
sh** is kinda crazy
8 plus 9, that's seventeen if you add it up
Made fifty K, I know these n****s all was mad as f***
When my granddad died he was 88
He
dollars, ninety-eight cents. I keep it one hundred and I tell her..
Keep the change for your two cents. I grind hard, bitch, to the point where I don't
house with eight vowels
You was like Eminem off of eight mile
In your shitty house writing rap songs
I use to run in niggas house with the mac on
I guess
H Town bass
Harlem Shake down, Cape Town
Till the details of our escape down
We was hungry but it's more than enough on the plate now
8 mile
stuck for so long to the steering wheel
Seven out of ten
Eight out of ten
Nine out of ten
Good shot
Here's your 50 cents
Good luck
best trade unions
I could find, I paid my wages, a, dues six months in advance
I waded forty eight miles of swamps and six big rivers
Walked across two
one-fifty on 8 Mile
My dirtbike's on 10 Mile, no friends now
Problems, I don't let them kill me
Clap one time if y'all feel me (bitch)
Clap one time if
I'm in twenty fifty eight
Hot as hell I might of did a tour in all fifty states
I aint greedy but the gang wit me we need fifty plates
And now these
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
high, hands up high
[VERSE 1: 50 CENT]
You wanna dance lets dance nigga ill take you to da prom
I'm armed tre pound in my palm I'm calm
Nigga my mamma
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