Lyrics:
the sky tryin' to blast sun
Zero to sixty in a second, pull a fast one
Fifty cent flashin' they hate us with a passion
Mashin', still fresh in three-day
the hood like uhh (it feels so good)
(When we ridin high)
Rollin through the hood with Phillies and hoes
Straight pimpin with nowhere to go
And it feels so
bringin' the hood back first, chyeah
Check me, and I'm ridin' with a body on the shotty
Stretch a nigga out like pilates
Catch a nigga outside his hidey
the Lord convict me
(Straight hood niggas, Project Niggas, y'all better know we some ghetto ass niggas)
[Verse- Havoc]
Gun through these niggas that stay
him I'm from the hood and that's how shit go
[Chorus - Plies:]
I let my pants (My Pants) Hang low (Hang low)
I'm from the hood and this how shit go
ho, ridin' through slow
Blaze through third and first and do what ya do
I done, done I done, done
Pull up and wrap the shotgun
They know me Gotti,
ho, ridin' through slow
Blaze through third and first and do what ya do
I done, done I done, done
Pull up and wrap the shotgun
They know me Gotti,
the hood but I'm too rich to just be hangin'
I'ma be fifty still bangin', with the youngins throwin' Z's up
I'm from Pompano, we P's down and throw our
a spitter
50 don't make me ride 'cause I'm bitter
'Cause I be long gone like the ripper so
Don't even look at me wrong
When I come through the hood
Oh, don't even look at me wrong when I come through the hood
Ain't nothin' changed, still holla at my homies
Oh, and when I hit the block I still
section
When I'm up in the hood
Chain looking so nasty all the bitches going uhhh
Heard they wanna get me
But I got my guns cocked
I'm dirty ridin
on the passenger
Just like 2pac
Yall worse than 50 Cent
All these rat'n rappers
Shout out to Trick Trick
I'ma start slap'n rappers
We can play connect
I'll point
You can't speed through
Two miles per hour
So everybody sees you
Ridin by myself
With the pistol in the do
Sipping sipping on lean
Sipping sipping on bo
like the hood that we know of
But look, homie, what can I say?
I was just counting the days
As I chill in the haze
Of my spirit on up by Jermaine
When I
Ridin 20 Inches Or Better (Adios!)
U Ain't A Fine Cinderella (Adios!)
Lil Mama U Ain't On My Level (Adios!)
[Foxx:]
A Buck 50 But Who Gon Fuck With
the game ain't the same
You might die young
By barely using your brain
Domesticated niggas
Only know one job
They listen to 50 Cent
And think they know how
like fluid
Get a 50 pack and we run right through it
Make dem boys tuck it in cause I'm all iced out
87-32 yeah, you know what I'm about
HA HA, you
niggaz are hard plus we all crazy
Wishing I can be a peaceful man and, hoping that the Lord save me
Fuck a nigga named 50 Cent, you nothing but change
apple fruit
Ride through the hood, you know the 'Burban look like Snapple juice
Bricks from Black, back from Summa Hill Pappa Two
Rapper who, bitch you
apple fruit
Ride through the hood, you know the 'Burban look like Snapple juice
Bricks from Black, back from Summa Hill Pappa Two
Rapper who, bitch you
Signin With 50 Cent
Them Same Niggas Wouldn't Offer To Give Me Shit
Niggas Hate You When You Rich, But Love When You Broke
I Never Knew I Had So Many
Smokin' and ridin'
Smokin' and ridin'
Smokin' and ridin'
I left my love in San Francisco with ten pounds of indo
I put her on the road with
wants to be ridin' around in that car
Two in the front and the back got the plasma
This ain't a free ride you gotta have the gas ma
I wouldn't buy
[Tony Yayo]
New Shit
Tony Yayo, 50 Cent c'mon
[HOOK: 50 Cent]
Bump Dat
Niggas try to stunt on my click
Then when I get on that shit
I bring it
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