Lyrics:
that first marijuana tape
Guess I got a chronic case
And I ain't just blowin' smoke, 'less it's in your mama's face
I know this time Paul and Dre,
motion
Had to switch the beat up again
No fifty cent in this church we got many men
I pray again every time that I just sin again
I need the grace, need
cutthroat like that, nigga, I got it out the mud
That's on gang
(Keise On Da Track)
MO-motherfuckin'-3
Down by the river (that river)
That's where I
wish death on me, I feel like "50 Cent"
She a gold digger, that pussy a metal detector
Yeah, the shit I got on cost about, fifty yen
That's the thousand,
again (Nope)
They be talking bout the crimes that ain't really a flex
Cuz ya brother dropped dimes he was put to the test
Heard it thru the grapevine got
of town want a
Half a brick of yay'
I'm Ice Cube in the pot, nigga, yeah, yeah
Compress that bitch, wrap it with duct tape
I wish I'd be able to see that
dick
You think they want hands in the fire, I pull up drum in a stick
Imagine I sold 50 pounds first time I got rich
Fuck 2 cents, need no answers for
if your rear view shaking and your seats vibrating 24 inch jays got the
Chevrolet shaking
[Chorus:]
Money, hoes, cars and clothes, that's how all
to pitch them pies, better life than flipping fries
I'm the one the Crips despise
Move the Yay or kiss the sky, for having dreams that 50 died
Eulogy by Mary
He got the high sign so he jumped a bus
Along the roads that wind on through
The hot mojave and the jericho
He'd start his whole life anew
And what
of Obie
Cause Obie be back, (going nowhere, man) we got them craps going on
And that yak going on, soon as a nigga touch down, back from town
It's
my pops was on some pimp shit, sewin up Frisco on novero
5-0 kicked down the door, he flushed the elbow
there goes another nigga straight to the pen
by
to the center
To get the vending machines
Where he then he would be seen
Gettin' some mini m&m's and some mints
When he went and he spent 50 cent
That he sent
feelin' good
When that purple haze hit, I'm feelin' good
Thirty milligram, yep!, I'm feelin' good
I got so much pain, I just wanna feel good
When them drugs
hands
Just did a stick-up, just got picked up
One dead punk, killed by the man
New York New York big city of dreams
And everything in New York
[Black Rob - almost mumbling]
They said that I'm a Rottweiler
And I'm from the Rottweiler house, the Rottweiler New York
[G-Dep]
Really, get
[Black Rob - almost mumbling]
They said that I'm a Rottweiler
And I'm from the Rottweiler house, the Rottweiler New York
[G-Dep]
Really, get
fresh out the kitchen, my watch is three-fifty (hey)
The Glock hold a fifty, the moppy get sticky (let's get it)
The paperwork say that you snitchin'
Because everybody fifty cents
From a quarter
Where I come from
Yeah
The streets ain't timid
But I feel at home in it
Gotta see a couple people
I ain't got
They know that Offset is abnormal (Set)
Stupid rollie, it got fifty pointers (Stupid)
Secret service my young niggas on percs
But when they on molly they
Aye
Mmm
I'm spinnin' my, I'm spinnin' my
Know how I get by, I'm spinnin' my
Aye look
Nigga punch back if he ain't got no fire
I spit on them block
the dooch powder
Summer's Eve, I drop degrees chill
Come four by four, lose one like Dru Hill
Stay fly till you air sick, now that's ill
Two choices,
Come four by four, lose one like Dru Hill
Stay fly 'til you air sick, now that's ill
Two choices, either squeeze or peel, now that's real
What
beef I fire at ya
Grill until it barbeque
I got more heart than you and to
Spark at you it's an issue
Like that big bitch that
Battle wit' big tit's
My
Discuss these yay got that fire by 50 cent Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In