Lyrics:
of the candle, there's a twenty grand stack
Heat the glass, pull the wax out, and cut that bitch in half
Carbon paper 'round the paper, makin' fifty stack flimsy
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
how to be a master
For our Peoples who I see Dilated turn your fuckin grill to alabaster
Indelibles...
(Len scratches up various excerpts from "Fire in
(Antt did the track)
'Rari sittin' on twenty-fours, ya dig?
Had to cut the bitch, she couldn't play her role, ya dig?
A couple million plus I
on the pavement, you can't say shit
Your mouth is gagged, you surrounded by
A thousand guys totally under your spell
They all totally scared of the power you hold
(so I)
Hop in the line at the Mac (Donald's)
Couldn’t afford me a Mac (yikes)
I run down the street to a Wendy’s ‘cause
The 50 cent frosty is back (ice)
money, not even fifty cents
You can't buy no fucking cigarette or shit
Talking 'bout beef, man, put that to a end
I cannot beef with no Jake, not my
stay on top, call her Abraham
On top of the chains like a pyramid
Like fifty we sliding on many men
Bitch I get you gone for like fifty cent
Yea uh, Yea
Some cats grow by the laws of the wild
Some learn slower and lag in the mud
Some stand up in defense of a style
Some let the big dogs eat them up
wealthy to eat healthy, want to have a salad
Mad 'cuz a burger & fry is only ninety-nine cents
Abide by the law so I don't become a fatality
At the hand
Yeah, yeah (buckle up)
Yeah, I shoulda let ya
First time on a Havoc beat
Legendary
(Always I'm in some shit)
Okay
I'm just tryna close
don't rule your cut?
- or if the streets don't dig your beats
- or if my man ain't fifty grand?
- or if the hoods don't think you're good?
- or if your
a check
Three-five of, uh, I can't say it, shit
I'm out of breath
Hundred rounder, fifty drummer, shit
We left his house a mess
Firebomb his whole shit, now
chick, with intellect; who want to match wits?
Write my own rhymes so can't no nigga tell me jack shit
[Busta Rhymes]
Master shit, Flipmode exclusive
had me right at a young age
In the club like Fifty Cent, what's her age
See me getting lean not getting geeked getting lint
Two tone tag heuer brighten
Harvey Dent
My nigga, you won't pull up
This a place that you ain't hardly been
(Uh) got many men who hatе on
Me like Curtis Jackson, 50 Cent
Ay, I'm in
I remain the least to see
Freedom and the decencies
Man, but I'm still on my shit and
I still gotta pay that rent
Still gotta pay that rent
Still
Highland and Shortnitty
Nigga we can knuckle up
I got fifty-six with me
Strickly for my rouges
With me until they lift me
We can meet for shows
I see they
to trick
Equipped with game so we bang with this thuggish shit
I see you tryin' to hide, hopin' that nobody don't notice
You must always remember
You're
Doc-Trizzy, Shady-Twizzie slash Aftermath
50 Cent, G-Unit, here we go, free Yayo
Motherfuck a Benzino, they don't know we finna blow
Someone better tell 'em
bread cheese and dough
From scratch but see the catch is you can get caught
Know what ya sellin', what ya bought, so cut that big talk
Let's walk
bread cheese and dough
From scratch but see the catch is you can get caught
Know what ya sellin', what ya bought, so cut that big talk
Let's walk
tell me how my dick taste
Shit cut deep
Up late night
Can't fall asleep
Locked in a dream
Shit cut deep
Up late night
Can't fall asleep
Locked in a dream
perfect on this earth
We was born to sin
Hit they block let's spin a
Benz, fuck it bro, let's spin again
50 Cent
Got many men coming to my city checking in
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