Lyrics:
But now if you'd come
I'd welcome anything
From the five and ten cent store,
You used to call me the top
You put me up on a throne
You let me
to the D Boys (drug dealas)
Neighborhood dope man
I mean real niggas
Thata make a dolla out a fifteen cents
Ain't got a dime, but I rides
to the D Boys (drug dealas)
Neighborhood dope man
I mean real niggas
Thata make a dolla out a fifteen cents
Ain't got a dime, but I rides
anything
From the five and ten cent store,
You used to call me the top
You put me up on a throne
You let me fall with a drop
And now I'm out on my
anything
From the five- and ten-cent store
You used to call me the top
You put me up on a throne
You let me fall with a drop
And now I'm out on my own
Right now with the situation gettin' better
So I'm doin' you things, holla
Yeah, 50 Cent, uh huh, check me outt
Now piece by piece we put it all
Godzilla
Whether guilt is a skrilla, Franks or banks, five pence or ten cents
Whatever the currency we currently intense like great sex
You make bets
the next nigga
To step get deleted by death undefeated
Ain't no thang to put that body to rest
Chest filled with smoke yokin' niggas up
By
the days
Young strays, posted at the L.Q. on Friday's
Waitin for Dice to give the go ahead
Hawkin 50 cent, puttin heads to bed
for a herringbone hear
than a fucking lightpost
I sold a lot of crack but I bought the most
Now I'm a basehead down on my luck
Roaming the streets and got hit by a Mack Truck
the mystery God and murk you
Burry you mother fuckers in the ce-ment
Miss a post of that nigga in the pre-cent
Should of known my niggas don't play with
anything from
The five and ten cent store,
You used to call me the top
You put me up on a throne
You let me fall with a drop
And now I'm out on my
mind over matter it's got a true-school-blue
betty cracker made it better
poindex the flex to track by Busta
with a little bit of sore from
I ain't think I'd be alive at twenty-five
I used to sell 125s for 25. twenty-five lighters on the dresser, yes sir
Gotta get paid)
If you make
dope
You fin' to lose when dope
Fiends cut ya fuckin throat
You see my shit is legit, so it's on
Cut a fifty cent slab
And tell that bitch to get gone
d'la tour (boo, boo, boo)
Avec le gang, on a fait les quatre cents coups (graa, graa)
On partait pour s'battre en cours (que du sale)
Le sale est
be a sweeter by the seater
cocoa powder, bubble-bath, and rubbing alcohol
for 5 fuckin cent that you could buy at the mall
I'm a long distance
Twenty five cents for some bubblegum
Had to get off my feet and do what I do
And live my life like I was Daniel son
We all got problems
You ain't the only
If you not your own boss keep yo 2 cent
Throw her on the bed now she spreadin her 2 legs
How she movin her hips
I'm finna beat it up
Brand new Louis V
surprisingly niggas wouldn't demise me
Until they see me in that AMG fresh out the bonnie V
The man with badge jumping out trees when we was tryna eat
When it
White, and Blue's as just as a zoo
Billions in blood money all paid by you
Trillions misplaced by the five sided fistagon
Blink, 'nother five hundred
You two bit hustla I'm the
Wrong brother like Clockers
Wouldn't give you five cents to
Put cheese on a whopper
So see a niga dea a mere niga rea
Bea I'm
Sweet Baby, (Yeah)
Sweet Darling, (Yeah)
I Love You, (Yeah)
Forever , (Yeah)
And I love her like no other
Met her in the 80’s introduced by my
Jean
Billie ocean I sea snakes
Or dead people see my mistake
Six sense or six cents
You cheap skates want cheesecake
Ima made man you a remake
Replay you
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