Lyrics:
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
Date four hoes, make her smile and make her moan though
Lady charmer put armor by your baby mama
I hate to say it a later moment I didn't warn ya
High
Mo' fire, Weezy
Mo' fire (put yuh light inna di air)
Mo' fire, give 'em
Mo' fire
I Diddy Bop, my fifty cocked
My city hot, I'm dodging
Learnin' to Love
Lovin' to Learn
Bear forkback by the flywheel
Get fifty cent for the porkpie
She's climbin' on in the sandbox
Get
Four or five niggas in a mothership
Better known as a deuce and we all wanna smother shit
Bent, front and back glass got tint
Tryin' to get our
[50 Cent talking]
[Hook]
You want beef wit me? take a number, and get in line
You bump heads wit me? I pop ya top off wit the nine
You mad at me?
Trailers for sale or rent rooms to left fifty cents
No phones no pool no pets I ain't got no cigarettes
Ah but two hours of pushing brooms buys
Like the days of stompin' at the Savoy
Now we freak, oh, what a joy
Just come on down, to fifty four
Find a spot out on the floor
Ah, freak out
Le
vegetables
Rapping with that special flow
Only way you're next to blow if you be strapped with C4
I be fresh from head to toe, every day a fashion show
This is 50 Cent, Banks and Yayo in the club
Runnin' around this bitch, pissy drunk with the snub
Niggas want to get it crackin', we don't give
Yeah
This is 50 Cent, Banks and Yayo in the club
Runnin' around this bitch, pissy drunk with the snub
Niggas want to get it crackin', we don't
screamin' at the wheels
Bigger'n anything there is last that's the way she feels
Trains're big and black and smokin' louder'n July 4th
But everybody's
or rent
Rooms to let, fifty cents
No phone, no pool, no pets
I ain't got no cigarettes
Ah, but two hours of pushing broom
Buys an eight by twelve
in New York City fifty cents elsewhere
It makes no goddamn sense at all
America's oldest continuously published daily piece of bullshit
Flavor Flav
ain't feeling 'em
Walking in my big blue chucks
Cause I'm killing 'em
Hey what up 'cause, it's 50 cent
What's happening nigga?
Ever since the moment I
Set to BIG's "The World
Is Filled" instrumental
Yeah 50 Cent, uh huh
Governor, G-G-G-G-G-Unit'!
She ain't that chick from the burbs
That's
Whoa! 50 Cent g-Unit! yeah!
You want beef wit me take a
Number and get in line
You want pairs with me I pop
Ya top off with the nine
You mad at me?
modest and not a lot of pride
Soon to have a ride and a home to reside
If my momma is sick, I'm by her beside
Used to watch the show on channel 4
boogaloo
Gets you up and gets you out
But how long can you keep it up?
Gimme Honda, Gimme Sony
So cheap and real phony
Hong Kong dollars and Indian
I gotta die, I'd rather homicide
I ain't have 50 Cent when my grandmama died
Now I'm goin' back to Cali with my Jacob on
See how time fly?
Hate
that boogaloo
Gets you up and gets you out
But how long can you keep it up?
Gimme Honda, Gimme Sony
So cheap and real phony
Hong Kong dollars
boogaloo
Gets you up and gets you out
But how long can you keep it up?
Gimme Honda, Gimme Sony
So cheap and real phony
Hong Kong dollars and Indian
mouth, you should hear how they talk 'bout me
[Verse 3]
I love 50 Cent, that's my dad
But even my mom talk about him bad
She says since he blew up,
car got no roof
Them riders with me everywhere and all of them shoot
Probably heard some things about me, man, and all of them true
About how we came
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