Lyrics:
rappin'
(Cassette rewinding)
I, can't, leave, drank alone
It got me feenin' (Feenin', feelin' good
Feelin' like a boss as I'm
Creeping through my hood
them up in a pot
Its Big and some pac n you mix em up and you got, juggernaughts of this rap shit, like it or not
(50 Cent verse)
I got a gambling
worst blunder
Y'all livin' trendy on pennies, I cop plenty Fendi
Vivienne Westwood, I'm good
Get the whole Trump Tower top floor for the hood
Dre
Tell 'em "Lets talk money"
T-Pain on you bitches i be ridin' real high
Switchin' lanes on you bitches
50 box of cigarillos
Got a thang for them Swishers
we gon'
[Hook]
Smoke good, drink good, eat good, Fleetwood
Nickel bag of funk'll make a country yeaga sleep good
Yo' hood, my hood, tote heat,
hood on lock (lock, what)
[ Chorus - 50 Cent singing ]
I been doin' my own thang
You can tell by the stones on my neck, and my wrist, and my ears
I'm
[Chorus: 50 Cent]
I'll, I'll be the shooter, I'll, I'll be the shooter
I'll, I'll use the pump, the taurus or the ruger
I'll pop somethin through ya,
back to Bompton
Before I hit the hood, a nigga gotta stop in the Swans
And pick up a sack, had fifty for an eighth
And I only had fifty, made it last
[Intro: LL Cool J (50 Cent)]
Queens!!!! (G-G-G-G-G-G Mix! G-G-G-G-G Remix! It's the Unit!!!)
T-T-T-T Todd Smith!! LL!!
[Chorus: LL Cool J (50 Cent
with all this jewelry on you
My roof look like a no-show, got diamonds by the boatload
Don't act like you my friend when I'm rollin' through my ends,
my nine
Chorus [Different Variations]
[Verse]
Can't find a nigga in the hood, that say "50 ain't hot"
When I drop, I'm sound like Eminem and Kid Rock
You love that hood that you represent
You bout that working and all that money spent
A nigga owe you every cent
My niggas hustle hard just to pay
before
It wasn't like this before
50 Cent, I'm makin hit's now
Don't try an act like you ain't heard
I'm the shit now some bitches changed
'cause they
Yeah, straight out the hood though
Them niggas out here fucked up
Weighin' them bags and shit, you know what I'm sayin'? (Yeah)
Niggas sleepin'
Everybody say ah, ah
Yeah, its 50 cent
And Lloyd Banks
And Young Buck
Yeah, and Joe
G-Unit!
Everybody say (la la la la la la la la la la
on
Kitty on fleek, pretty on fleek
Pretty gang, always keep them niggas on geek
Ridin'-ridin' through Texas (Texas), feed him for his breakfast (uh)
Every
6's on the Charger and they
Said it couldn't fit
But I'mma still do it cause a nigga so hood
Wish I could and I know I should
But fuck that shit,
(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,
love them chicks
And we love them parties and we love that Cris'
And we love them houses and we love that ice
And when we rollin' through your hood we
man was thirsty, I could tell by his look
Cause he looked the way I look
When I look for a juks, bitch
Motherfucker teamwork, work hard nigga
50 cent
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,
this is
It's 50 Cent bitch, G-Unit
Aw nigga don't trip
I come through your hood, stunting in my yellow Lam'
Murcielago, top down, nigga damn
I'm
Living good, I've been living good
Rolling through my hood, understood
Just a youngin in this bitch up to no good
In the whip, every day with
cruisin' through the Compton blocks
I'm the beast from the east, but I play on the west
In the drop by myself with my gun and my vest
And you niggas best
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