Lyrics:
get rep to it
You get by on record but you wack on stage
So I'm blowing you up throwing hand grenades
[Parrish Smith]
That's why we roll
in the game doing it like me
I’m surrounded by history
A legend in the making
K-Rino said homie that it’s
Mine for the taking
Can’t mess with
to grin
Slobbered on his shirt, his eyes got dim
He said "You got fifty-nine cents?"
I said "Yeah, I got a dollar, but don't be a smartalec
I ain't
through with an ill crew.
We fifty niggaz deep and we growin' like mildew.
Lola Damoan comin' through with an ill crew
We Fifty bitches deep and we
got a drum if i see many men plot then i'm shooting out the 50 (50 Cent)
We finna squeeze if we keep spinning know we be twisting hard then a titty
helped me out with this rap shit
I bought my own features
Talking big business
You talking about sneakers
My style is hypnotic, opinions are idiotic
Who I
'em hit me back
As a matter of fact, we go dolla for dolla
Independent got our pockets, bout the size of Kamala
Getting big of shotter, balling with
Shady!
Yeah
Who run it?
You know, you actin' like you don't know
We run it
You do know but you actin' like you don't know
Who run it?
You know, you
for waxin the toughest and the lamest, Amos
But not the same as, a sucker who's as plain as
crackers, and get no wacker
You step up, I bust your rep up,
bitch you know who we are
Where we from, what we rep, these niggas know that we step
All my niggas went to school, I hit a lick by myself
Them niggas
Hill, we still click
Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, that's the Clan, we run s***
Up from the 36, back on that bulls***
Okay, I'm reloaded, strapped with a full clip
carpet burns off the rug
And to get nutted on by nine niggaz with diamond grills and guns
And how you got on my microphone and sung a sixteen
Ya
Check out the fleet
This is a Trackhawk no regular Jeep
With a click full of killas who I bought with me
Back to back to back SRT's
Ain't no middle
free
If you ain't about your goals then don't bother me
100's, 50's, 20's,10's
Flip that shit, invest that shit, then do that shit again
So you Stack it,
a, like a tiger, or something, knowhatimsayin
No, no, nobody can even F' with me, straight up and down
Knowhatimsayin', so that's how we coming in,
Well the County Fair left quite a mess
In the county yard
Kids with eyes as big as dollars
Rode all the rides
Strip artists and con artists
Put
Ayo
You know who the fuck this is, it's 50 Cent
I'm hangin' with my man Lloyd Banks, my nigga Tony Yayo
It's comin', we comin', nigga
All this
sacrifice her
Fam shift them niggas to Queens
Guess jeans she charged thirty-five beans
Hit the cell phone
Regulate with well known Tone
A Wally kingpin who
Niggaz know I rep the Lion for the Citadel
Run in pace, with you gun in place
Let 100 spray ‘til that city fell
Shit he tell, ice cold
That shit he sell
with them
And it's ending with us, look how it's going I told you it's up (Up, oh, oh, oh)
50's on 50's on 50's we counting up plenty on plenty on plenty
put it up
(Don’t put it up)
Two miles per hour, we crawl by
Let 'em look at us (Let ’em look at us)
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Two miles per hour, we crawl by
Let
We gon go say this and that cause all they goofy ass ain't out
I got that shit that leave you slobbing laying on your momma couch
San Antonio with my
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah who be that man with the pepperoni
He got skinny jeans on and a Sprite for me
He got the three stripes on and the spice right
We got
your light
Woah
Who brought the streets back to life
I
Move like a thief in the night
Took
A trip to the bank with that pipe
Yea
I'm in here speaking
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