Lyrics:
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
these babes
They gotta stop crying, you know
(Dre, 50 Cent) with crying
And screaming babies sold out, bitch
These motherfuckers are making
Me
Trailers for sale or rent
Rooms to let...fifty cents.
No phone, no pool, no pets
I ain't got no cigarettes
Ah, but..two hours of pushin' broom
Buys
to let, 50 cents
No phone, no pool, no pets
I ain't got no cigarettes
Two hours of push broom
Buys a eight by 12 four-bit room
I'm a man of means, by no
to give me a thing
Could've been a fifty cent ring from out of a vending machine
Love unconditionally, there's no other fish in the sea
Guess I'm
wife dig me
Game try and hit me
Kick game like 50 cent
Niggas wanna play games I quickly
Mob with a squad that will bang y'all wit' me
And they want
do one more game of counting by fives on our fingers
This is a long one, keep going
Get set, ready, go
5, 10, 15, 20
25, 30, 35, 40
45, 50, 55,
(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,
G G G, G G G-Unit
No peace talks, no white flags
No mercy, I'm getting yo ass
[50 Cent]
Niggas done heard about my click how we stay wit
Here comes that guy in his stripped down Model A
And he says, ?Gimme 50 cents worth of regular
Check my oil too, if you don't mind
Put some air in my
Som' for the hood, ya know, yeah
Nuttin' crazy, little som' som'
Yeah, 50 Cent, G-Unit Radio
I sit and twist the lye just to get high
Niggas is
New York City
You are now rocking, with 50 Cent
You gotta love it
I just wanna chill and twist the lah
Catch stunts in my 7-45
You drive me
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
two weeks been busy, I'm movin' in
I told my mom look out her window to another Benz
She took nine shots of Patron, 50 Cent
I bent the corner
what you say about me
Broke nigga two cents don't matter
Give a fuck what you say about me
Broke bitch two cents don't matter
It doesn't matter, it
You lost your common sense for a buck and fifty cents
But full of confidence so high I don't know why
I, I don't know and I don't, I don't care
And I take great pleasure in introducing, 50 Cent
It's bottle after bottle
The money ain't a thing when you party with me
It's what we into, it's
作词 : WomboCombo/ZJ Phantom
作曲 : WomboCombo/ZJ Phantom
DMX & 50 Cent Type Beat
此伴奏为免费格式
由WomboCombo和ZJ Phantom制作
评论并关注WomboCombo、ZJ Phantom和GOAT
When you stop the programs for after school
And they DCFS, some of 'em dyslexic
They favorite 50 Cent song "12 Questions"
We scream, rock, blows,
(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,
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
back, no tense
You got a bag of grub it cost you about fifty cents
No fear, no fuckin' feats
Malt liquor tastes much better on the streets
Crusting,
Hurry, hurry, step right up
See the sideshow in town for only fifty cents
Step right up, hurry, hurry before the show begins, my friends
Stand
Hurry, hurry, step right up
See the sideshow in town for only fifty cents
Step right up, hurry, hurry before the show begins, my friends
Stand
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