Lyrics:
poor
Y'all
Shady
Shady (shady)
Yeah, bitch, come on
I done worked hard all night, shit
Put that one thing on, throw that one dress on for me (me
God put them in
Father Son Spirit I got plenty friends
This is not fifty cent (No) We got many men
(Yeah) Bring the lions out take them out the den
history of hip-hop
From way way back
(His martha gupa's?) Hip-Hop Father
Charlie Ahern Wild Style
And 50 Cent's Fifty and More
I used to read this to my
they won't tell me what not to say
And though me and my party days have all pretty much parted ways
You'd swear to God I've forgot I'm the guy that
I let one take my chain
Imma have to blow a brain
God blessing me know that I'm heaven sent
Y'all got a youngin Bent
Got put that body up stuff it
one all
In all, they gave me magazines, tea
Some better soap than the prison's soap
An earphone radio, and extra chow
There's Chris
Who gave me
, nine times outta ten the nine is on me
Feds search the god, but nothin' they find on me
When I rap don't wait to clap applaud sooner
Unless you hate
mattress bed
In fact I get practice being dead but I sure feel like I am on fifty shades of meds
Let me get that Adderall I'll give you fifty cents i insist
Woah, woah, wassup, wassup
Thanks for having me, I appreciate it
Thank you for stopping by
I see you got our voicemail, too cool to answer the phone
Yeah
Super hero
Clark kent
Feel like 03
50 cent
I done gave more
Then I spent
Let me vent
of God it's been gravy lately
Used to believe them lies of the haters I let 'em sway me
Gave attention to useless rumors and talkin' it drove me crazy
But
from 50 Cent side, but we already knew how to rob
Mom tried to get the church to talk to me so I could stop
We used to walk to the park, now we spinning
Let me take these bricks and break 'em down
If you want I can serve 'em by the pound
Shorty know she's got what I wanna flip
Baby girl tell me you
Let me take these bricks and break 'em down
If you want I can serve 'em by the pound
Shorty know she's got what I wanna flip
Baby girl tell me you
cause he lays down the law so smooth like little tiles
He might switch up his style so you better not question
What an almighty God does with
the road with 50 cent
Kidd you still not rich?
But I'mma serve these dimes 'til
I hit that brick
If my life was a disc I'd skip that shit?
Nigga, roaches
the road with 50 cent
Kidd you still not rich?
But I'mma serve these dimes 'til
I pit that brick
If my life was a disc I'd skip that shit?
Nigga, roaches
the Ason
Givin' it to ya raw baby
The raw deal, because
These lovely rhymes made by the one and only
I'm Ason, there's nothin' phony about me
time
God outlined me to shine like the claw during clutch times through these cold rhymes
Not a lot of dope minds left just doped minds which leaves
Writing rhymes at night in the house by myself
I open mailboxes, all I see was more bills
Gettin' cold chicken, walkin' down Ryan's hills
Askin' moms for 50
Don't feel sad that you don't yet feel P
Even I underrated P
I gave you a few proofs so you can go
And let me know if ever you need some more
I
down, I was hung down
Brung down, hung up and all kinds of mean, nasty, ugly things
And I walked in, I sat down, they gave me a piece of paper that
Get up on hustle, don't feel sorry for yourself
Get that generation wealth
Can't play with me, I play chess by myself
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
God
the label of the month
Like 'yo, what's the half kid, let me get a deal'
Got a dope style, sound just like so and so
What's her name, runnin from ya, even
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