Lyrics:
em
We gotta problem Houston, Whitney
Cash not cents but clip hold fifty
Pills in my body but the shit don't hit me
So I pop four mo' till the shit
my shoes or afford to pay my dues
Wit your cartoon crews, you niggaz destined to lose!
I rock Eminem and 50 Cent crowds
And spend most of my weekends
the lies
I can't believe they took for granted what made up all our Lives
You take a look at me
An understand what you see
50 would not even donate a cent
bread won't even let you hold 50 cent
I come through fresher than a motherfucking peppermint
You old news need to go into retirement Or i
Intensive care,
And the enemy is one-time
I ain't gotta tell you
Yo, it's right in front of your eyes
We rep the QBC, nigga, rep yours, it's all love
Milli' stacked down,
off
take ya bitch and tell her ta take her clothes off
(50 cent)
wat would u do if it all ended tomorrow
times runninn out fiddy got da gak
and ja rule
What im gone do
Step
Wherever i choose
That's word to my jewels
All of my goons rep
She sending nudes
While you in her views
She by pool wet
Fuck up
video to speak about millinials you look us in our face and you spit. You dumb fucking bitch I grab another gun and a clip I ain't never run from shit,
keep a lil Uzi
I keep a 50 inside of my clip
If he talking that shit knock some cents in his head
I'm just a lil bit shaky I ain't in da club
Cuz I know
her deep throat
Bingo, bingo, bingo
Connecting the clips yeah i'm ready to bingo
Auto, auto, auto
I don't do much i just leave it in auto
This a deluxe
door, this is raw
You scared of me, you not prepared for me
The kid is back
50 Cent
I know you like that
Yeah I know you like that
to the rib?
Plus you stay on top of they grills, stay on top of they biz
Thinking n****z plotting on hairs, think they not when they is
This is Staten Island
of playgrounds you can run, you can
Paint, color, read, learn, recess in the sun
And by the way, one day
One of your classmates might stroll
In with a gun
Shoot
Excuse me excuse me
I be the poetry man that was sent here by the WWBCC fanclub
You called the number 1 900 GET DA BOOT and you asked
Desi thinkin bout what bat he gonna hit me wit
While yayo and his son are busy being 50's bitch
Shit im make it fuckin public till you pussies hit my
the bread lil niggas need christmas
Banks dont rap wit a back pack
im in it for the MONEY the MONEY the MONEY the MONEY the CAKE
[50 Cent]
You heard Banks
're fucking with a psycho
I write but you like though
Full clip, don't trip, Blood
Crip Gangster shit
Westside, Eastside, riders ride, cowards die
Cold world
Stack and I keep that piling
Anyway it goes
I will never fold
I live by the code
Told them that Im coming
Coming for that payback
You about little money I
getting cents
Off a couple hundred hits
Candidate equiped
With google trackers, and hackers
Forcing thousand of clicks off of viral clips
Legit Concepts
I rep that L O U I S I A N A da state
Where dey holla ay bay bay and keep a clip off in dey safe
And these rappers, they actin' like faggots
I feel
whatever
50 or 100 man, we'll send you to the devil
I work this bitch like donkey or last level
Every block gotta chopper or two to clear the whole set
change up the topic
Cuz I aint 50 Cent This aint no 21 Questions
I don’t give a damn or understand what you talking
I Told you I aint 50 I ain't lookin for
don't shoot anymore
My deal got signed so the spirits all up
We shot the album front cover up by the shops
We just wanna rep the manor right, give it
pain
I can get you John Doe by a no name
Catch him at the Chinese store
Pulled two sticks on him, we eatin' Lo Mein
Nah nigga, Smack can't hear
(hair)
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