Lyrics:
wear glasses, the difference is
I was in school thinking it was cool, you was thinking of skipping classes
Listening to your track record, I could see
records, all the work I put in
All they wanna know is will I get another ring, yeah
Will I get another win
All they wanna know is will I get another ring
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
Who bold enough to challenge this deadly reportation
Of keeping MC's in a hopeless situation
No comparison, if you put the darts side by side
One will
turntable
Knock 'em baby, won't you move on by
Shut your mouth and put your hands on my high thigh
Put your needle in my groove
Now watch the way they
Murphy's Law
Generation X—will I ever be your ex?
Flaws of a baby step', mauled by the mouth a bit
Pause, put me under stress, crawled under rocks,
time to execute
I put my neck up on the line with every record every rhyme
I think it’s finally time to execute
I’ve been here for a long time
October
indie records show up in a W-E-A box?
By saying your independent, you belittle the whole movement
Real emcee's work hard, ain't got investors to put out
jackin' the beanstalk
We both got marketing plans
Yours is to sell records and try to net more than you gross before
Mine is to punch you in your face if
Bugatti as a hearse
But you might
I ain't really trying to listen to what you like
Put a lesson in my lyrics that'll glisten in your light
My position is
an
Atomic bomb and killed people in
Hiroshima and Nagasaki? Have
They killed off millions of
Native Americans? How
Dare you put yourself in that position
door
With me, that's how it go, a hundred thou a show
Me making records, movies and TV shows
It equals mo money, mo money, mo money
Mo money, mo
hear nothin' bout' no keys boy
But it's like everywhere I go
Everybody pull up low by the boatloads (woah)
Then they get on records and
Rap about
put you in
Yo' park from the start
Leave you sleep in the dark
So wrap my dick in your mob
'Cause I'ma bring my sistas down south
Throwing yo' bitch ass
grandma
I done said out their names and niggas still ain't wanna [?]
Lu probly tell me Trouble you gotta put the mack down
Feelin' these all in your
And you drove all the way from Georgia just to hear me play
I saw ya standin' there by the record machine
I know you ain't 45 but you sure ain't 17
Told me
No I.D.
Make a couple platinum records in that bitch and then I dip up out it
On the 101, my wife text me
Talkin' 'bout, "You gotta get home, feed
Who bold enough to challenge this deadly reportation
Of keeping MC's in a hopeless situation
No comparison, if you put the darts side by side
One
And ever, amen
Stand by me darling, you keep me free falling
When you say nothing at all
Girl, put your records on
Let me love you like an old love song
to our Mom
Unless she humiliated you, by your lack of success
Humiliated you, on every phone call
That's why I didn't call her but every two weeks
Yet you
I gotta close the window before I record
Cause New York don't know how to be quiet
Coogi down to the socks like I'm Biggie poppa
Keep your girl
I gotta close the window before I record
'Cause New York don't know how to be quiet
Coogi down to the socks like I'm Biggie poppa
Keep your girl
Put me down like I was nothin
Treated me like a jerk
Now I'm seein the pay-off of all my hard work
Cause now that it's MY records on the wheels
Somehow
What was coming from the speakers always hit the spot
Grandma would play the record, I'd just sit and watch
Never paid attention, always getting
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