Lyrics:
position's next
Sent a picture of her titties blowing up my texts
I looked at 'em and almost ran my front bumper into Corvette
Enthused by the touch
is driving me crazy
[50 cent]
I do what I gotta do to get it
I admit it, the way you move it is making me lose it
Lets get into it
[Lloyd]
So take my
always count on me, ha ha
Baby girl it's ya touch
That turn a frown into a smile
It's somethin about how you make
Me feel when you around
It could be when
like a drive-by
We could stack dough sky-high
Niggaz can't touch what they can't feel real recognize real
Crew love, Roc-A-Fella till we die
As long
fifty cents
The ghetto got me crazy, I smell daisies
But I can't die tonight my old lady's pregnant with a baby
Tupac said there's a heaven foe a G
But I
Long waits, patdowns, (don't touch me)
Comin thru thru the background
& not nan n***a my buddy
Everybody wanna Love me, funny
Enemies switch so quick
America, God bless you if it's good to you
America, please take my hand
Can you help me underst
Yesterday I got a call like
From my dog like 101
truck, whizzin' through borders
I was through flippin' quarters when I made my first mill'
I'm about a dollar, 50 Cent ain't real?
Dead presidents,
dicky, dicky (Bang)
Call me cent how I'm stacking up these fifty's fifty's (Ay, ay)
We big like Giza
Call me pussy pleaser (Pleaser) (Giza)
I am evil
Shoot
man alive fifty-five miles an hour
They want us to go on this Interstate
And you go fifty-five and you get run over
By a truck so what do you do
Man I
hands on some dollars and cents
And fools can't hold us
Every chance we get, we hittin' up the rollers
Comin' up short of the green guys
And I might
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
linen and sweet like cinnamon
But everyday like 50 say, it's 'Many Men'
They wanna take me out the spot, they want the *** and the ends
But separate
the Chosen one
By the way she acting yeah, she can be my hun
Like fifty cent you wanna be best friend
If relation will you be my rider to the end
Confessions
[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,
shoes, those are green
Draped in a leopard mink, girls standin' next to me
Probably should've washed this, smells like R. Kelly's sheets
(Piss)
But
with Donald Trump (oh)
I don't take nothin' too personal, play 50 Cent, I'ma Kurtis Blow
Gold grill and a greasy 'fro, no peace to the PDO
I like
Have a baby by me baby
Be a millionaire Have a baby by me baby
Be a millionaire Have a baby by me baby
Be a millionaire Be a millionaire Be
a hundred G's, I had me blockin out of jail sentence
I'm recognized by the illest of individuals
Killers and criminals, even willies that's really into
money Broke niggas can't get fifty cent from me
Play wit in da pussy I play wit Da digital
Plays on da way Gotta pay individual
Paving da way Parking
Ricky Bobby, I be cruisin'
I just did a song with 50 Cent, don't give a fuck about him nigga, two-some
Overseas, talkin' guapanese, twisting lids with
pretty good some play so bad it hurts
We pick up their golf balls that fly over the fence
We shine 'em up a little bit and sell 'em back for fifty cents
Yeah, it's 50
Look, you need me man
You need me
I mean, you hate me
But you need me
'Cause I got the best product man
I mean look, it's pure,
boy's goin' left on niggas
And them hoes too it's me
That nigga who ain't never got caught
My mic is wounded
I'ma test it with a touch of salt
Keep a book
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