Lyrics:
fifty brothers for my many men
These streets, they prepared a nigga for everything
Everything I ever wanted in my life
I hustle and I grind it up,
they math
Bitches ain't half cut up crack up in the stash
50 Cent Italian, icy flow
This is that Run-and-Get-a-Dollar-for-The-Ice-Cream-Cone
Cause they
to the business
? break it down, sell nickels
Had to ball him out of jail, blew the money on the bail
When flat, bounced back from a 30-cent flipper
I don't even
Ludacris, ya boy was doin' this
Before Snoop Dogg, I put rabbits in the morgue
Before Dr. Dre, I was out in L.A.
Before 50 Cent, I was sittin' on Enz
When
down by law and I know my way around
On 42nd Street, lookin' for some action
Women standing on the corner selling satisfaction
One young punk just
Go 'head, go 'head, go 'head Game
First things first (Aftermath) The Chronic is back
This is indo, produced by Timbo
Game over; nah the N.W.A. chain
Yo, yo, yo
What the fuck poppin' man
This the Drama King man
Yo who there, who dat, who there man?
(Yeah, yeah, it's 50 Cent nigga)
Muthafucka
and Wednesdays
I might buy me 10 Denny's, I might buy Family Dollar
Cut it to 50 cent, I got a job for your father
I'm tryna help with the rent, I came up from
the wall like every week
Famous city by the sea
The streets was cold I felt the breeze
I rose from out the ruins
Broke the mold and they neglected me
Hitting
Yeah back it up
Vultures of culture
A dollar a rhyme, but we barely get a dime
Uh-huh, check it out
If you don't own the master, then
(50 Cent)
Yeah, it?s 50 uh huh, Scrappy it?s the Unit
Ahh nigga what you don?t know
Is I ride around with the 44
Got a lil brown tryin to get some
like I'm OG King
Wished death upon by many men, like I was 50 Cent
I've been standing out on them street lights, on some foreign engineer
Big booty
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
they get is 50 cent franks
And papayas, from the village to the tele
Time to kill it on your belly no question
I got more black chicks between my
[Hook: 50 Cent]
Yeah
Nigga you so tough
Tough until your heartbeat stop
The tre pound pop, your arteries shot
You bleed into shock, get in
Around my way
Around my way
All the corners filled with sorrow
All the streets are filled with pain
Around my way
Around my way
Around my way
All
state's forty cents
in New York City fifty cents elsewhere
It makes no goddamn sense at all
America's oldest continuously published daily piece of bullshit
Street, they scrubbed it off the wall like every week
Famous city by the sea, the streets was cold I felt the breeze
I rose from out the ruins, broke
turns her back
We're gonna cut out of class, meet the girls by the railroad track
Well ev'ry Friday night there's a band that you gotta hear
Just
I done came too far to go back
And too hard to go soft
I'm fulfilling my wishes (I got swag)
But Auntie always say I'm losing my britches
(I'm from
hard ever since I entered the pit'cha
Can fuck with me for records to the recreational cent'a
I got it wrapped y'all from the grammy's to the back park
every crack on your street (on your street)
I done spent a hundred and fifty thousand on my teeth
I just made it all the way back from the moon (from
your head cracked for that
You gettin' money nigga?
(YEAH) , you thugged out? (YEAH)
50 Cent is the hottest shit out this year
(YEAH) you bust your gun
need to check the clock, the streets'll time ya
The suspect witness, don't come outside
You might get your shit pushed back tonight
(Suspect
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