Lyrics:
n black on its on!
Wassup? This the kid 50 Cent man
Its going down, ya heard me?
Niggas got me mad, ya talk
Ya niggas got me all fucked up
I'm finna
[50 Cent-talking]
I don't even know how to explain it, you know?
You know from time to time she's on my mind you know
You know what I mean she's my
'm in Hollywood cause I remember when I had 50 Cent, up In Da Club
All my life I knew I was major, I don't need no major
I don't even write rhymes, I
a brick, I meant to say book
Promise I will not slip again
Continental, no Michelin, well it's only there when I'm in the Benz
I'm bein' hated by many
'll put one inside his contact lens
Stay locked in like chains 4L know I'm standing on bizz
Death wished on me by many men
But I ain't 50 cent feel like
Trailer for sale or rent, rooms to let fifty cents
No phone, no pool, no pets, I ain't got no cigarettes
Ah but two hours of pushin' broom
Buys
grass on my motherfuckin' rug (it is green)
I don't need no love bitch don't give me no hugs (get away)
Fifty fifty
I'm fifty fifty
Split the check split
I’ll stand behind this shattered glass
I feel like 50cent
I never worry
Cuz I know somethings are imminent
I guess I gave em what they needed
They ain’t
a little nigga by the name of Chris
Nobody paid him any mind, no one gave a shit (ahh)
Knowing he could rap, no one lent a hand
So he went about his
a little nigga by the name of Chris
Nobody paid him any mind, no one gave a shit (ahh)
Knowing he could rap, no one lent a hand
So he went about his
to the center
To get the vending machines
Where he then he would be seen
Gettin' some mini m&m's and some mints
When he went and he spent 50 cent
That he sent
The Hustle don't stop, Hustle don't quit
Got a "Hustlers Ambition", like, 50 Cent
Want the, "Finer Things", in this, life I live
So I'll, grind til I
nothin, she just knows
By the way I look at her to take off all her clothes
Up and down
[Chorus: Lloyd Banks + (50 Cent)]
Whenever I'm not around, and you
New York City (New York City)
You are now rackin' with 50 Cent
(with 50 Cent) are you ready?
(are you ready?
Gun cocks) I said are you ready?
(are
Yeah, this the Shady Records mixtape (yeah)
Invasion, mixed by the Evil Genius (50 Cent, Lloyd Banks, Tony Yayo)
G-Unit
This rap shit plays
gotta die, I'd rather homicide
I ain't have fifty cent when my grandmama died
Now I'm goin' back to Cali with my Jacob on, see how time fly?
Hate it
alright
But of course I wasn't about to just give up my son
So I did exactly what I thought should be done
I worked my ass off and I saved every cent
I sold
I got a whole collection of
A home grown selection me and broke niggas
Two things with no connection
I can't see 'em like the
FaceTime with no
around the city yea I'm tryna shoot a viddy
Yeah, I'm kinda faded, got no message, got no biddies
Homie slide through and i only charge em 50
Privilege ,
Like you should've did this
Or you should've did that
Here take your 2 cents
You can have that back
You can keep it
I don't need it
You can keep it
I
Fifty cents.
Forty cents.
Thirty cents.
Twenty cents.
No you can't.
Yes I can, yes I can.
Anything you can dig, I can dig deeper.
I can dig
Fifty cents.
Forty cents.
Thirty cents.
Twenty cents.
No you can't.
Yes I can, yes I can.
Anything you can dig, I can dig deeper.
I can dig
love, kind words are $1.25
50 cents will get you a smile and maybe a goodbye
You've got a vending machine love, kind words are $1.25
50 cents will get you
And a brick all these red rubies
If he bigger go pick up a
Stick with a 50 clip and I ain’t 50 cent
Get you killed for like 50 packs
She assuming so she bet her
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