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50 Cent
50 Cent


Background information
Birth name Curtis James Jackson III
Born July 6, 1975
Origin South Jamaica, Queens, New York, United States
Genre(s) Hip-hop
Gangsta Rap
Years active 1997—present
Label(s) Interscope Records
G-Unit Records
Shady Records
Aftermath Entertainment
Associated acts Eminem
G-Unit
Sha Money XL
Website Website



Music World  →  Lyrics  →  #  →  50 Cent  →  Albums  →  50 Cent: The New Breed

50 Cent Album


50 Cent: The New Breed (04/15/2003)
04/15/2003
1.
True Loyalty (feat. Lloyd Banks & Tony Yayo)
2.
8 Mile Road (G-Unit Remix) (feat. Lloyd Banks & Tony Yayo)
3.
In Da Hood (feat. Brooklyn)
. . .


f/ Lloyd Banks, Tony Yayo (G-Unit)

[50 Cent]
Unh, yeah..I like the way this feel right here
yo...turn me up in the head phones just a lil' bit
yeah..

[50 Cent + (Lloyd Banks)]
There ain't shit in this world deeper than loyalty and love
(Except loyalty and love, between thugs)
For you, I pull up in the whip and spray the whole strip
(For you, I walk up close and lay a nigga's kin)
For you, there ain't a damn thing that I won't do
I'm a Thug, this my way I show, my love for you
(Nigga for you, I get the coke, I'ma turn it into cash)
For you, if we go broke, we gon' rob a nigga ass
(For you, if we get knocked, I'ma have to take the weight
'Cause with a record like yours dogg, you ain't stayin' upstate)
Nigga for you, I kill a whole God damn crew (Why?)
'Cause I know you'd do the same thing too...haha
I ride, you ride for me, my enemies your enemies
How could you not love a Thug like me?

[Chorus]
Would you ride for me? (you ain't even got to ask)
Would you die for me? (nigga, they blast you, they blast me)
Would you cry for me? (shit, when I die I don't cry for me, just keep reppin'
Southside for me)
Nigga, you ride for me? (you ain't even got to ask)
Would you die for me? (nigga, they blast you, they blast me)
Would you cry for me? (shit, when I die I don't cry for me, just keep reppin'
Southside for me)

[50 Cent + (Lloyd Banks)]
(Nigga, I'm the stem, you the crack
I'm the clip, you the gat
I'm the glock, you the mac
I'm the artist, you the trap
I'm a pen, you the pad
I'm the Dutch, you the bag
I'm the knife, you the stab
I'm the driver, you the Jag)
I'm the ice, you the bezel
I'm grimy, you ghetto
I'm the bow, you the arrow
I'm the shell, you the barrel
I'm a pimp, you a player
I'm dope, you the hustler
I'm a nine, quiet me down, you the muffler

[Chorus]

[Tony Yayo]
You can catch me in public housing, wit' bundles of D
Or in the Santa Monica mountains, bundled up to ski
Since, time is money, I rhyme on the clock
And walk through the strip with a nine in the ox
You seen the ice, you know it's top notch
And when it comes to dice, I'm seeing' shorty to the shot box
Banks stop, guns pop through your tank top
And leave you wet up like a sonar range drop
When I grind, I wear the same thing tomorrow
When you grind, it's Showtime at the Apollo
Damn near every rapper gotta hide sixteen
Well my flow's like a ho that's sixteen
I ran through niggas, dismantled niggas
They mad 'cause they see me in Cancun bitches
But I'm ghetto, straight from the 'hood my nigga
If there's no toothbrush I'ma use my finger
I got so many minks, and so many leathers
The crib is surrounded by animal protesters
I'm a grown man, still livin' like I'm young
With the mind of an old man, full of wisdom
Here the cops come, task force van
Rock so much ice, I'm called Jack Frost man
And while we sippin' on cris', you sippin' backwash man
Your team got heart, but your heart's in my hand
You want sixteen bars, in song format

. . .


f/ Lloyd Banks & Tony Yayo

[50 Cent]
Yeah..50 Cent, Lloyd Banks, Tony Yayo
G-UNIT!

[Lloyd Banks]
This rap shit plays a major part of my life
So if you jeapordize it I got the right
To send a mothafucka at you tonight
G-Unit! And I ain't stoppin' to my clique poppin'
Swimmin' in barrels of money
Ma could walk around wit' a head up and challenge you dummy
It's funny, niggas rather see you sufferin' and hungry
I'm hungry as hell, skatin' with another nigga's money
Take your hats off, you know you ain't that tough
I'm callin' your bets off as soon as you act up
You know what I came for, it isn't the game ball
Artillary that's about as long as a chainsaw (Lloyd Banks!)
By the way, this feels like I'm dreamin'
Forty cal. under my pillow, condom feelin' my semen
The physical presence of a female, form of a demon
That's why, I fuck 'em and leave 'em
Get my nut while I'm breathin'
'Cause they thought they'd catch me slippin', now I'm duckin' and trippin'
That's a thousand dollar outfit what the fuck is you rippin'?
You trippin', more records could get my ass in position
Death wish for no religion whether Catholic or Christian
Listen, I went through my ambition in and out the kitchen
With probable cause, it's probably sendin' out to prison
You got soldiers, but you still gotta respect ours
We got more four five's and nines than a deck of cards

[Tony Yayo]
You can take me out the 'hood, but can't take the 'hood out me ('Cause what?)
'Cause I'm ghetto, I'm ghetto
Niggas hate when you do good
But when you broke, your friends and your enemies
They love you, they love you
"Cheche, get the llello"
Picture me being crack, out of town, trips on the trail
"Cheche, get the llello"
Picture me being crack (Tony Yayo!)
You can sift me, cut me, I'll turn you to a junkie
I'm the number one seller in the whole fuckin' country
Wallstreet niggas, they cop me on the low
White boys don't call me coke, they call me blow
It's time to go, on the bus, the train, the plane
I'll smuggle, I'm nothin' but trouble
I'll make your money double
Cook me in baking soda
I'll turn your Hooprock into a new Range Rover
I'll pay all your bills and fill your 'frigerator
Feed your family, turn your man into a hater
Put me in your doorpanels or your stashbox
Put me in your Nik's, Timbs or Reeboks
If you cop three and a half you hustlin' backwards
Cop a hundred grams, you movin' forwards
You tryin' to move more birds
...In PA all day, on the corner of Third

[50 Cent]
You can take me out the 'hood, but can't take the 'hood out me (what?)
'Cause I'm ghetto, I'm ghetto
Picture me polishin' pistols, I'm comin' to get you
The shells hit you, you screamin'
Think I'm playin'? I mean it
Man, I done bought all these pistols
Lets get it poppin'
Start wavin' my emboies shell cases get the droppin' (C'mon)
Like if it's down the corner, I got too much pride to hide
I'm outside, gun in my pocket just stunnin' I'm stoppin'
I'm dyin' to pop it, I'm young and I'm restless, you know my contestants
As the world turns, there's lessons to be learned
Count all my blessin's, clean up my weapons
I'm ready for war, the strong survive, the weak will parish
I told you before, hoes they compliment me now like "50 nice chain"
Malasio, twenty grand in chips at a dice game
Burn out, can't stop gotta watch MTV, BET
Nigga you see me!
I wonder if you mad, 'cause I'm doin' good
or 'cause niggas feelin' me more than you in your own 'hood
And it hurts 'cause you love 'em and they don't love you back
'cause they know you just rappin' and you don't bust a gat
You pussy

Yeah, explain it to niggas in your hood nigga
They know you fuckin' frontin' nigga
Talkin' like gangstas on a record, I see you nigga
Niggas know me nigga, ask around in my 'hood nigga
Read the "Daily News" nigga you see them talkin' about me nigga
I'm in the middle of all kinds of shit
Pussy, lets get it poppin'


. . .


f/ Brooklyn

[Chorus: Brooklyn]
I still be riding through the 'hood
Into Compton, it's all good
From Southside Queens to Inglewood
We representin' like we should

[50 Cent]
I'm hot boy, I told you before
Got that Benz and that Hummer off the showroom floor
I know you hate it when I pop up, wrist all rocked up
In The 'hood, empty niggas locked up, they rats all knocked up
Baby after baby, the 'hood is crazy
Niggas'll set you up and wet you up, trust me they shady
Got a pet bulldog, I keep under my linen
It don't bark, they spark when the revolver spinnin'
We winnin'

[Chorus]

[50 Cent]
Hold up, hold up, get a good look at my rims
God damn, look at them twenty-fours diamonds spin
Now the D's, they harass me in the 'hood
a few times, niggas try to blast me in the 'hood
Fuck it's all good
Catch me in the coupe - on the lean
Wit' needles and samples and diesels for the fiends
The money stay on my mind, so I stay on the grind
Plus niggas like to stun, so I stay wit' my nine
I ain't the type nigga that be out, runnin' his mouth
Talkin' gangsta and shit, with my gun in the house
Now homie, you better get to know me better
Before you be bleedin' pints of blood into Iceberg sweater
When the tails come flyin' up out the beretta
You gon' feel like it's yo' fault and say "Man I knew better"
Look dogg, I don't play that shit
I pull that thing out I'ma spray that shit
That how I get down

[Brooklyn]
Brooklyn she's so sick in the hood
Got these fat bitches get the spit in the hood
'Cause I throw diamonds, shot that fifth in the hood
That's what you get for talkin' all that shit in the hood
Yeah I'm still a minor, remember this
Everything Brooklyn choppy broads still behind ya
Brooklyn to Compton it's all good
Get robbed, get shot, shit is poppin' in the hood


. . .


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