Lyrics:
Haaaaaa
(SYN shit n****)
Yeaaaa
(93Meexhie)
The underdog N****
(Fuck yo producer my beat is by Meexhie)
YeeeeaHH
The Money, The Ice, The Shine,
rap songs
And I ain't blaming 50 Cent, I can't blame T.I.P or JEEZY
Them brothers just making plenty paper off their life stories
See me, myself, I try
I'm Snapping
Going hard no kap'n
Getting it by any means is what
We call trappin'
No middle man I am the Manufacture
Spilt it fifty fifty then own
a hundred, you a dub (nothin')
Lookin' for me, I'm booked up (where you at?)
50 Cent, I'm in the club (hey)
Diamonds on my earlobe, ice on dyke (huh?)
rapper tryin' to mimic him
And that's what really rose up out of Michigan,
The sign of white rapper by the name of 50 Cent, ha!
You would never know
And I take great pleasure in introducing, 50 Cent
It's bottle after bottle
The money ain't a thing when you party with me
It's what we into, it's
and Mahatma Gandhi
Went to the park to check on the game
But they was murdered by the other team
Who went on to win fifty-nil
You can be true, you can be
cents
English pounds and Eskimo pence
You lot! What?
Don't stop! Give it all you got!
You lot! What?
Don't stop! Yeah!
Working for a rise,
cents
English pounds and Eskimo pence
You lot! What?
Don't stop! Give it all you got!
You lot! What?
Don't stop! Yeah!
Working for a rise,
as a light tan
With plastic faces and rubber hands
Fuck fame, I shoot a hole in a 50 cent piece to test my aim
How dare you call the Gods in vain
Not
Gandhi
Went to the park to check on the game
But they was murdered by the other team
Who went on to win fifty-nil
You can be true, you can be false
and Indian cents
English pounds and Eskimo pence
You lot! What?
Don't stop! Give it all you got!
You lot! What?
Don't stop! Yeah!
Working for a rise,
as a light tan
With plastic faces and rubber hands
Fuck fame, I shoot a hole in a 50 cent piece to test my aim
How dare you call the Gods in vain
Not
And I take great pleasure in introducing, 50 Cent
It's bottle after bottle
The money ain't a thing when you party with me
It's what we into, it's
I'm so lonesome I could cry.
King of the Road
(Roger Miller)
Trailer for sale or rent
Rooms to left fifty cents
No phone, no poolm no pets
I ain't got
family good some days, yeah
Remember havin' 50 cent to my name for lunch
A quarter juice and some hot flames
We was sittin' on the couch watchin' He
plans, and it really hurts
Every time I go fishin' it'd always start me wishin'
That I could be a child again
Take my 50 cents and go down to the local
lame
He needed a change, so I gave him fifty cent
He looked up at me like I was crazy
I said listen man i rather give you my last
To see you live again
through by servin y'all
And only cause my man heard of y'all
Other than that, shit, y'all won't get served at all
[Tony Yayo]
I went from oodles
New York City
You are now rocking, with 50 Cent
You gotta love it
I just wanna chill and twist the lah
Catch stunts in my 7-45
You drive me
she's picky
Don't come in here with no dollas
You might get by with a fifty
Baby high and she tipsy
Gas her up till I'm empty
She said she think she might
or more they be keeping it 50
We sip on the drank
And I give her the dick
That's why they call it tipsy
Been stuck on the grind
Rip that boy Nipsey
(Been
all my players old, I was gettin' chose
Hoes look the fuck all in the dark when she suck my dick up at the car park
Now she amazed by the way I top up
got a drum, now whole 50
So come get it, don't wait
I come by two, maybe eight
I'm out to take a trip out of state
I got more gas on the way
Got hella
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