Lyrics:
Pan
I'm just kidding, nigga I'm just playing
Still working hard just to make a band
Gotta get the bag by any means
My girl thick I'm tryna be her jeans
Cuurtis, uh, rewind it DJ
Cuurtis, you ain't 50, 50 Cent's from BK
Cuurtis, yep, he deserve to be nervous
Cuurtis, damn, show some courtesy Curtis
(Repeat)
I gotta die, I'd rather homicide
I ain't have 50 Cent when my grandmama died
Now I'm goin' back to Cali with my Jacob on
See how time fly?
Hate
need to go)
I'm hoping that my 2 cents will get me dollar bills
Been on fire with NuSince roasting ant hills
No more belts around my neck
Just loops
of followers the same
Fifthteen cent
Thinking colossal shit negative
Fifthteen cent
But get rich or die trying
Thats word to fifty cent
See my girl said it's
wanna act out
I just black out, and blow they motherfuckin back out
That's a real nigga for ya
(2x)
We the realest nigga
50 Cent and B.I.G. my nigga
from her, cause she borin'
Top down in a horse, I give two cents bout a whore
Like I'm dark, I'm feelin' like the voice
Pushin' the P like I'm ridin'
gained like eighty pounds
Waive this gun around inside of this stadium
Packed to the ceilin', do you feel me now
My rhymin' patterns are just masterful
50 Cent I'm makin hits now
Don't try an act like you ain't heard I'm the shit now
Some bitches changed, cause they know I'm fittin to blow
You should
around my click
'cause just a year ago a nigga ain't have shit (damn)
Me and my right hand share the same outfit
Which fueled the fire that I air
it to the judge
after school you hit the strip
along the big highway
50 cents of gas is all you need
and soon you're on your way
officer won't
it to the judge
after school you hit the strip
along the big highway
50 cents of gas is all you need
and soon you're on your way
officer won't
[Chorus: Olivia - repeat 2X]
Boy if you want me, then you can have me
I want you to want me and love me unconditionally
[Verse 1 - 50 Cent]
You
carry the 44, he rollin' wit 50 Cent
Untold the 50 gallons rock it like 50 Cent
Yea, bussin' at the sky, fuck it I'm high
So big one hit you, your
Trailer for sale or rent rooms to left fifty cents
No phone no pool no pets I ain't got no cigarettes
Ah but two hours of pushing broom buys
we had just got Left For Dead
Get Rich Or Die Tryin' like 50 Cent
Long gone the days of you in my bed
Just tryna focus on my future ahead
But after
bigger than just bein' on the rich list
Might be insanity, but people call it gifted
My face is goin' numb from the shit this stuff is mixed with
Watch
thangs
I slang weed, cocaine and hero ayn
50 Cent that's my name
Nigga I bring the pain you thought
Shit stay the same nigga shit gon' change
Put a bullet
Set to BIG's "The World
Is Filled" instrumental
Yeah 50 Cent, uh huh
Governor, G-G-G-G-G-Unit'!
She ain't that chick from the burbs
That's
driver
And he lay down and thought about the whole night
And he looked up at the photo that he bought at a junk shop
It was only fifty cents but he
to death and stripped, all over a bitch
Now it's 50 MC's that ain't worth shit
Get ya ass kicked 50 times, beat to 10 cent
I love New York, but the niggas
When no one's around.
I sing,
Trailers for sale or rent
Rooms to let, fifty cents
No phone, no pool, no pets
I ain't got no cigarettes
Ah, but, two
with no dad
Feastin' studio is all I had
I'ma get rich or die tryin
For 50 cent, I'll sling the iron
In middle school, I was still a neck pack
You try
forgot a friends name
When I was listing them
Told them all the songs are fifty/fifty
Profits low that if I split it
To each it'd be a couple cents to them
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