 50 Cent]
Yeah, I like the way this feel
This make me wanna just (G-G-G-G,
G-Unit!)
Buck somethin, hahaha (G-UNIT!)
[Chorus: 50 Cent]
Nigga you shit on me, I shit on you
You put a hit on me, I put a hit on
you
An eye for an eye nigga
Survive the shots or die nigga
[50] Get 'em Banks!
[Verse One: Lloyd Banks - singing]
They can't hold me
I'm Lloyd Banks the one and on-ly
Not your buddy, not your pal, not
your ho-mey
But ain't a government around that
can control me
Oh no!!!
[rapping]
Uhh, I'm on that 'Doggystyle' shit,
man I don't love a hoe
Poppa wasn't 'round, so I had to let
my brother know
Never stay at center, play the back
and let your money grow
Most them niggaz wouldn't be
around if you was bummy yo
Southside Jamaica neighbor yeah
that's where I come from
If you see a nigga with me then
there's more than one gun
Fly straight soldier, ain'tcha tired of
bein the dumb one
Or are you satisfied bein another
nigga's Dun-Dunn
We all know friendships turnin sour
when you gettin it
Some niggaz hate me in the hood,
but I don't owe them niggaz shit
Smilin all up my face like I don't know
them niggaz sick
But I can care less, I'm on the Island
and I'm gettin rich
[Chorus]
[Verse Two: Young Buck]
Walk it and talk it, spit it how I live it
nigga
Came from the country, Dirty South
get it nigga
Feds try and question me, they run
up in my ho-tel
They said there was a shootin, but
they found no shells
New York City hell they throwin
niggaz under jails
I got love for dem and I ain't even
from dere
Now bust a shot for dem boys on da
block
I can feel your pain nigga, I'm still in
the game nigga
There's somethin bout the sound of
a trey-pound
That make me pull up, hop out, and
make a nigga lay down
See every time we 'round, you hear
some shots go off
And niggaz get they chains snatched
when they tryin to show off
Shootouts in broad day, we do it the
mob way
And come to find out, these niggaz
softer than Sade'
I'ma keep livin my life with a pistol in
my palm
And a wrist full of ice, you can call
me a Don motherfucker
[Interlude: singing]
We got the Hei-ny
So make one wrong move and you're
dy-ing
Ain't no time for coppin a plea and
cry-ing
Cause my niggaz ain't gon' stop ridin'
So you gone
[Chorus]
[Verse Three: 50 Cent]
I got a handgun habit, nigga front I'll
let you have it
When the shots go off, cops sayin
50 back at it
I'm allergic to the feathers on these
bird-ass niggaz (yea)
Front and I'll put your brains on that
curb fast nigga
I ain't a marksman, one spark and I
spray shit
Nuff rounds from that H-K, I don't
play bitch (uh-huh)
Move like I'm militant, back on that
gorilla shit
Moody, disrespectful, unruly, but
niggaz can't move me (yea)
I squeeze 'til I run out of ammo, if it's
a problem it's handled
I have your people pourin our liquor
and lightin candles
You fuck around I blow your brains
on my New York Times
Run home, turn to the sports section
and read your mind
It's crystal clear, you should feel
when that gat bust
First there's crime scene tape, then
you end up in that black hearse
We don't go to funerals, but we'll go
to your wake fam
Do your body all banged up, you
made a mistake man
[Chorus]
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