Lyrics:
Yeah, I was always the crazy one
Broke into the stadium
And I wrote your number on the 50 yard line
You were always the perfect one
with the rub-a-dub, uh
No love for the haters, the haters
Mad 'cause I got floor seats at the Lakers
See me on the fifty yard line with the Raiders
with the rub-a-dub, uh
No love for the haters, the haters
Mad 'cause I got floor seats at the Lakers
See me on the fifty yard line with the Raiders
Train tracks, clapboard bar
Green grass, wheat field farm
Three-digit population sign
Pirate on the 50-yard line
White church, a water tower
the rub-a-dub, unh
No love for the haters, the haters
Mad cause I got floor seats at the Lakers
See me on the fifty yard line with the Raiders
Met Ali he told
don't wanna leave
But I gotta kn-kn-kn-know, what-what's your fan-ta-ta-sy? (Uh, uh)
I wanna get you in the Georgia Dome on the fifty-yard line
While
don't wanna leave
But I gotta kn-kn-kn-know, what-what's your fan-ta-ta-sy? (Uh, uh)
I wanna get you in the Georgia Dome on the fifty-yard line
While
But uh-oh, the wind is failing,
Now I'm headed downward, groundward,
Clownward to the school.
on the football field I crashed,
50-yard line
how it feels
To be the guy that's trying to come back from behind
And that hail Mary's coming down on the five yard line
And I'm trying to win life
on
Lay a little bit of rubber down on some asphalt
Fifty yard line, better not get our butt caught
A little bit later on
Find a little spot right down
turned my helmet in and walked to the fifty-yard line
Just the coach and me after we lost eighteen to nine
And I cried, "Man, next time to get in here,
runnin' back, you think I had TJ Duckett wit me
That's cause I throw it like Vick, from the yard line
Menage a trois, it's safe to say I'm havin' hard
called you twice, you called me once
Baby come with me and be mine
So we can make love on the 50 yard line
You for me, me for you
There's nothing in this
Ludacris-
I wanna get in the Georgia dome on the fifty yard line
When the dirty birds kick the tree
And if you like in the club we can do it
In the DJ booth
I throw it like Vick, from the yard line
Menage a trois, it's safe to say I'm havin' hard times
[Chorus + (Ludacris ab-libbing)]
[Snoop Dogg]
To my
Johnny on the spot, got the rhythm and the rhyme
Fucking with The Roots, you know them niggas is the dime
I can make a hundred yard line start to dash
I
make a hundred yard line start to dash
I can make a whole lake of fish start to splash
I can make Conan and the Titans clash
And I could Metallica
on the forty-yard line
Wonder if this is what my ex did the whole time
Good niggas always seem to end up with some hard times
Hope not, if a pimp slippin' in a ho
It's Friday night
And now the stadium's quiet
Standing here alone on this old 50 yard line
If I listen close I can hear battle cries
Of all the heroes
fake love, we was sellin' drugs
Mm, mm
NFL yard line, nigga, I'm a hundred
Big Gotti, eighty-some', fifteen from a hundred Ms
I heard they don't
High school halftime Friday night
Standing on the fifty yard line
Big old blue and gold tuba in my hand
I could see Katie Ann in the popcorn
Yeah, I was always the crazy one
Broke into the stadium
And I wrote your number on the 50 yard line
You were always the perfect one
want to pass it up
To the next man had my Walkman bumpin' on
The fifty yard line and my adrenaline pumpin'
Like a killer thriller driller tiller out
want to pass it up
To the next man had my Walkman bumpin' on
The fifty yard line and my adrenaline pumpin'
Like a killer thriller driller tiller out
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