Lyrics:
whipped, this shit is ridiculous
Shoutout to 50 Cent, man (let the Bandplay)
Huh?
Say you a gangster, but you ain't never shot nothin'
How you
all your bills to pay
It's too bad, baby, you might have made your move too soon
I think you might have made your move too soon, girl
Now, look
a good connect for you, okay, okay
(50 Cent)
Look bitch he can't treat you the way I do
Now lay back, Maybach '62, okay, okay
I got a bunch of paper I
cum on your face
That's fifty million bucks
I feel like 50 Cent
Come have a baby by me
I got so many chicks like a chicken farm
I get so many cheeks
Hasn't it ever occured of
Stand on your own two, please
I never heard of
By the window in the bathroom
That one did it got a dress like a brother
Then both
tossing and turning
underneath his pleated quilt protector, tears welling in his eyes as he
pictured Marsha, her sworn vows overcome by liquor
Yuh, yuh, yuh, huh, Migos
I can, I can, I can
I will, I am gon' count out them bands
I bought a brand new time piece
And it came with a bad
so bad?
With my own eyes
Saw it with my own eyes
With my own eyes
So I know its true
I saw New Orleans
Saw the people left for dead
I've
at night, tossing and turning
Underneath his pleated quilt protector, tears welling in his eyes as he
Pictured Marsha, her sworn vows overcome by liquor
laughing
They high from sniffing coke off a twenty-cent Andrew Jackson
City lights spark a New York night
Rossi and Martini sipping, Sergio Tacchini
dog
Turned down Hill, light the Marley spliff
Run! I will not get bagged on the rock
Run! I seen what happened to Un, they bad with they cops
Run!
those hips
Like you know how dance to Moroccan
Gonna show you a little something new
And we'll have a little fun
There are fifty shades of me
And Ima
wrist, so cool
Had to get rid of that nigga, old news
We be smokin' by the ounce, roll two
Got you rollin' out the pound, real stoned
Say I got you
thousand in there (G-Unit radio)
When the drama get to poppin'
It don't bother me, it don't bother me
(50 cent) when the shell casings get to
Droppin' it
don't follow the rules
Why should I when Reebok giving niggas they own shoes
And I'm dealing with the same problems 50 Cent got
Yayo in jail and they
you walk with a shotgun
I got new for you, your days are numbered, son
Why don't you get yourself a job?
When your kid grows up, do you want him to rob?
Can
I started makin' dollars then it started makin' cents
I used to share my room with the roaches and the rats
My lil' cousin Paul and my uncle, Po'
fifty gold, sixty platinum
Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics
Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths
Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez
and a strawberry bazooka,
5 for a haircut, and they can make it thorough,
And 50 cents can get you anywhere in the borough,
Karate movies came on Saturdays at 3,
[50 Cent]
Yeah, F-50
[Chorus - 50 Cent]
As times go by, I twist a lot
Fuck with me and my niggas, somebody gonna die
You think I'm all poinry, cause
Been a gangsta you can check my fingers, I don't talk on phones
Black coffee, sippin', chillin', thinkin
I don't talk on phones
Bad bitches blow my
shit sounds like them"
So, I sat back, thought up a new track
Didn't fantasize, kicked the pure
Facts, motherfuckers got scared
'Cause they was
No bad blood but we don't speak
It's been one-hundred-fifty days or twenty-one weeks
Wah-oh
Who's countin' though?
I saw you holdin' hands
the deal
We Bad Boys, anywhere we at we smoke and kill
You try to stop it, get yo' shit broke up in twenty pieces
We roll deep in brand new vehicles wit
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