Lyrics:
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
[Originally by 50 Cent]
No shorty, it's Beyonce,
We gonna' party like, it's ya birthday,
We gettin' naughty like, it's ya birthday
So put ya drink
years away from when they say
The world's expected to end
And I ain't even begin
That's more ironic than a bum asking
For 50 Cent from "Many Men", one
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
replacement, nah
I borrowed his gunits to walk through the matrix
I'm signed to the Doctor I ain't got no patience
So he put me with 50 Cent now I got a face
rap songs
And I ain't blaming 50 Cent, I can't blame T.I.P or JEEZY
Them brothers just making plenty paper off their life stories
See me, myself, I try
(Woo) , came up off them Snack Packs
50-cent for Shastas
Itchy blop' up in the backpack
Little Caesar Hot-N-Ready box
We had to have that
Made us heavy
Turn on my microphone you get Me
Hey ee
I drop the shirt and I wear knicker
I smoking Gas like a Cylinder
I grip the 50 like Vivica
Ride deadly
Abracadabra watch I pop out with a hundred racks
This ghetto music fifty niggas but a hundred straps
Ghettopoly roll the dice and end up in a trap
Don't
Gardena to Gardere, Louisiana (woo)
We was at Louisiana, came up off them snack packs
50 cent for Shastas, itchy blop up in the backpack
Little Caesar
You can hate it but face it B.I.G. and 2Pac just ain't around
Everywhere you go, there I go, I'm 50 Cent
Ghetto star by the bar I get you bent
You wanna
a city in the west coast
On this quest to get rich
Or die trying, tread soft
Word to 50 cent
I don't even need a vest
For the Teflon
When they let
on liquor
I give a fuck about excuses for a shitty friend
50 Cent wit' a gauge hunted by many men
R.I.P. to my love in remembrance For yo' fake smile ten
the product of the ghetto, the flame of the city
So I talk the language of the ave
Forgive my dirty mouth please, I'm whippin' slabs
Fifties, quarters
you Imma stick to death and beyond
Cooking up in the studio ain't talking about no Filet Mignon
Ain't got no cent but hold the 50/50 shots inside my
hardy, burbs now im movin in
Acres so big ima need me a landscape
50cent cake i turned to a pancake
Smack down, 50 bands, shit raw
Best producer turnt
Livin' dat, yo what's up black?
Well its my third day home and not a cent to my name
No jobs they claim I'm back in the drug game
I need some money in
caught 'em window shoppin' just like 50 Cent
He tried to stand on business, he got dropped, now he can't stand on shit
Shh, nah, for real, zip it up
tête
Parle pas du Paradis, j’ai perdu l'adresse
On commet les délit's avec délicatesse
Y a plus de trous d’balle dans
Ta tess que sur 50 Cent
Coup
the parks
A lot of shit I say go over heads that's why I'm on your top
Like
Came from 50 cent like Cain and drew a cake a piece
Imma pinch you if you lacking
rocks like a fifty cent piece from Terror's twenty
Aimed at your Bentley son
Number one when my shard be blast
Mix with hash, made your heart beat fast
Broke snitches and bitches
Try'nna do wrong to get riches
Fuck with ghetto princes
Using money as incentive
Greed holding them captive
You wonder
Livin' dat, yo what's up black?
Well its my third day home and not a cent to my name
No jobs they claim I'm back in the drug game
I need some money in
his mouth
Now he be talking like fifty cent when he shouts
Cops said i'm the gang, G.D.R what you mean
I ain't no gang, lone wolf true lycan with them
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