Yeah!
50 Cent, Lloyd Banks
Tony Yayo, G-Unit!
[Lloyd Banks:]
This rap shit plays a major part in my life
So if you jeopardize it I got the right (What?)
To send a motherfucker at you tonight (Uh-huh!)
G-Unit!
And I ain’t stopping ’til my click popping, swimming in barrels of money
Ma can walk around with her head up ’cause her child ain’t a dummy
It’s funny – niggas’d rather see you suffering and hungry
I’m comfy as hell, skating with another nigga’s money (woo!)
You lying your ass off; you know you ain’t that tough
I’m pulling your mask off, as soon as you act up (what!)
You know what I came for, a peace of the game or
Artillery that’s ’bout as long as a chainsaw
I’m wide awake, but it still feels like I’m dreaming
40 cal’ under my pillow condom feeling my semen
The physical presence of a female’s the form of a demon
That’s why I, fuck ’em and leave ’em get my nut while I’m breathing (yeah!)
Never thought they’d catch me slipping now I’m ducking and dripping
That’s a thousand-dollar outfit what the fuck is you gripping
You tripping, no record can get my ass in position
Death waits for no religion whether catholic or christian
Listen; I went through mamma bitching in and out the kitchen
With probable cause as poppa was in and out the prison
You got soldiers, but you still gotta respect the odds
We got more four-fives and 9s then a deck of cards
[Tony Yayo:]
You can take me out the hood, but can’t take the hood out me (‘Cause what?)
‘Cause I’m ghetto (I’m ghetto)
Niggas hating when you do good, but when you broke
Your friends and your enemies they love you (they love you)
Chi-Chi, get the llello (get the llello)
Picture me being cracked, out of town trips on the train – what?!
Chi-Chi, get the Yayo
Picture me being cracked… (Tony Yayo!) here we go
You can sniff me, cut me, I’ll turn you to a junkie
I’m the number one seller in the whole fuckin’ country
Wall Street niggas, they cop me on a low
White boys don’t call me coke, they call me blow
It’s time to go, on a bus, the train, a plane
I’m smuggle, I’m nuttin but trouble
I’ll make your money double, cook me in baking soda
I’ll turn your who-rock into a new Range Rover
I’ll pay all your bills and fill ya ‘fridgerator
Feed your family, turn your man to a hater
You can put me in the door panels or your stash box
Put me in your Nikes, Timbs and Reeboks
If you copped three and a half, you hustling backwards
Cop a hundred grams, you moving forwards (what?)
I’m trying to move more birds, in P.A. all day
On the corner of 3rd – nigga what?!
[50 cent:]
You can take me out the hood, but can’t take the hood out me (what?!)
‘Cause I’m ghetto (I’m ghetto)
Picture me polishing pistols, I’m coming to get you, the shells hit you
You scream, think I’m playing – I mean it
Man I done brought all these pistols, let’s get it popping
Start to waving my embroidered shell casings get to dropping
The devil’s ’round the corner I got to much pride to hide
I’m outside, gun in my pocket, just stunt and I’ll pop it
I’m dying to pop it, I’m young and I’m restless, you numbered for death
As the world turns, the lessons should be learned
Count all my blessings, clean up my weapons, I’m ready for war
The strong survive, the weak shall perish, I told you before
Hoes they compliment me now like 50 – nice chain!
Belagio, twenty grand of chips at the dice game
Balling out, can’t stop it, you gotta watch MTV
BET, nigga you see me!
I wonder if you mad, ’cause I’m doing good
Or ’cause niggas feel me, more than you in yo’ hood
And it hurts ’cause you love ’em and they don’t love you back
‘Cause they know you just rapping and you don’t bust your gat
You pussy!
Yeah explain it to the niggas in your hood nigga
They know you fuckin front nigga
Talk all that gangsta shit on the record; I see you nigga
Niggas know me nigga; ask around in my hood nigga
Read the “Daily News” nigga you see them talk about me nigga
I’m in the middle of all kinds of shit
You pussy… get it popping!
Non-stop… can’t forget… Shady, aftermath!
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