Lyrics:
fifty cents
No phone, no pool, no pets, I ain't got no cigarettes
Ah, but, two hours of pushin' broom
Buys an eight by twelve four-bit room
I'm a man
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
fifty cent, in a bad predicament
The gon' bust your head by them dead green presidents
Wipin' down the evidence, shooters at my residence
All this
gotta die, I'd rather homicide
I ain't have fifty cent when my grandmama died
Now I'm goin' back to Cali with my Jacob on, see how time fly?
Hate it
an eight by 12 four-bit room
I'm a man of means, by no means
King of the road
Trailer for sale or rent
Rooms to let, 50 cents
No phone, no pool, no pets
I
Hey Nicki Hey Nicki here's the Evidence they Haven't seen a baller
Carry the game since Power of the Dollar 50 cent every super herro
Need his theme
"take your clothes off!"
Ayo, the Devil planted fear inside the black babies
Fifty cent sodas in the hood, they going crazy
Dead meat placed
jajaja
T-pain
Victor "el nasi", "nesty"
W yandel
En conexión con 50 cent
Y todavía se atreven decir que son los numero uno jajaja
Seguimos
play that here
They play 50 cent and Daddy Yankee this year
Clipse grinding off the edge of elementary ears
Drug dealing be the occupation of my sisters
like it's legal
A nigga move around with the Eagle
I go off! We say you get
It if we don't believe you
This is 50 Cent and Beanie Sigel, I go off
Big
buys an
Eight by twelve four bedroom, I'm a
A man of mean by no means
King of the road
Trailers for sale or rent
Rooms to let, fifty cents
No phone, no
"take your clothes off!"
Ayo, the Devil planted fear inside the black babies
Fifty cent sodas in the hood, they going crazy
Dead meat placed
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
as a light tan
With plastic faces and rubber hands
Fuck fame, I shoot a hole in a 50 cent piece to test my aim
How dare you call the Gods in vain
Not
as a light tan
With plastic faces and rubber hands
Fuck fame, I shoot a hole in a 50 cent piece to test my aim
How dare you call the Gods in vain
Not
nigga (haha, haha)
You gotta love it, New York City (haha)
[ Chorus - 50 Cent singing ]
I been doin' my own thang
You can tell by the stones on my neck,
weighs eighteen stone
(That's two hundreds fifty six pounds)
I don't mind her fat but,
It's not only that but,
She's cockeyed and muscle-bound, Molly
made
Into brown gravy for supper Sunday
They got 50 pound bags of chicken nuggets
They got yummy yogurt by the bucket.
Shelves and shelves
Bruder, sag ma' ehrlich, wer will keinen dicken Benz?
Veysel schreibt die Hooks besser als 50 Cent
Bruder, sag ma' ehrlich, wer will keinen dicken
Sparks is white like me"
"Haha" "Hahaha" "One time for that boy
Eminem? You know what I'm
Talking about?! One time for that boy
50 Cent! The whole G Unit!
Buys an eight by twelve four-bit room
I'm a man of means by no means
King of the road
Trailers for sale or rent
Rooms to let, 50 cents
No phone, no pool,
Now, listen...
My paycheck after taxes barely pays the rent
I do the town on Friday, by Tuesday, it's all spent.
Two bucks an hour, this job ain't
cracker a day (what? Oh shit)
Girl, well, I heard the bitch was married to Tim
And started fucking with Trina
Well, I heard the bitch got hit by three
ya frame
I'm like 50 cent's thoughts on some murder game
Peep the poetry and metaphors
C4 to heavens doors like I'm coming here for sure
Gimme gimme
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