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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  →  No Mercy, No Fear

50 Cent Album


No Mercy, No Fear (08/01/2002)
08/01/2002
1.
MTV Intro
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
Scarlet Skit
16.
17.
18.
19.
Star & Buc Outro
. . .

MTV Intro

[No lyrics]

. . .



{*gunshots*}
50 Cent... Shady... Aftermath... the dream team
We gotta get the get well cards... niggaz is sick
Feel this... (non stop) ... {*gunshots*}
Motion picture shit hahahaha

[50 Cent]
Now don't think I won't hit you cause I'm popular
I got a P-90 Reuger to pop at cha
Catch ya slippin' i'ma give you what I got for ya
My clip loaded wit' 16 shots for ya
Never had a hot gun on your waist and blarin' to shoot
Cause a nigga went and said the wrong shit to you?
Homie you ain't been through what I been through
You not like me and i'm not like you
I'm like a animal wit' it when I spit it it's crazy
Got semi-autos to put holes in niggaz tryina play me
One shot is not enough you need least a uzi to move me
After four bottles of Dom the kid start feelin' woozy
I write my life you write what you seen in gangsta movies
I'm gangsta to the core nigga you can't move me
I found my space at the top I got this rap shit locked
I never heard of you you heard of me I murder you
Spit shells through your convertible
Lowest you notice?
Rich or poor hollows still go through your door, this is raw
You scared of me you not prepared for me the kid is back
50 Cent... I know you like that
Yeah I know you like that

Green Lantern... Shady Records...
Anger Management Tour... homie...

Yeah {*gunshots*}

. . .


f/ G-Unit, Scarlett

[50 Cent] G Unit!
[50 Cent] A, B
[Scarlett] You can't fuck with me
[50 Cent] C, D
[Scarlett] We from the Harlem streets
[50 Cent] E, F
[Scarlett] Don't talk me to death
[50 Cent] G, H
[Scarlett] It's elementary

[Scarlett]
Picture me rolling Range Rover
Same color your Air Force Ones
White on white, ya like?
Red I flight the night
From L.A. to N.Y.
I'm Harlem bound
You see how bitches tense up, when Scarlett 'round
Niggas get the heart to holla while we up in the club
But get intimidated when they see me sitting on dubs
I hear 'em whispering " dat ain't a man, shit that's her."
She roll with them G Unit niggas, that's what's up
Disrespect me, I'll have niggas blast ya up
Take my advice, don't let ya peoples grass ya up
I got a fetish for the chips
20's for the six
Hollows for the clips
Try me, if you think I'm playing bitch
And the police we'll have another crime scene taker
Jim Star crush your head, give your ass a shape-up
Uptown niggas known for the money they make
Everybody ain't shook, you see doing the shake

[50 Cent][Hook]
The boss spending ends
Saying, "Gimme that Benz, 20 inch rims, and four TV's"
The snitch in the precinct saying
"He sell X, he sell techs, and he sell D"
The balla by the bar saying, 
"Everybody drink, the best champagne, it's all on me"
Snitch in the back of the police car
Pointing out the window saying, "He robbed me"
It's elementary

[Lloyd Banks]
1,2,3,4
[50 Cent]
Lloyd Banks' in the house
[Lloyd Banks]
Now get the fuck on the floor
I slid through the front door
With the 9 and the velour
A cal in my pocket
You wil', I'mma pop it
I'm down for a profit
I'm ghetto as hell
You can't you tell?
My road dog, under the jail
Getting frustrating mail
So I'm drinking and smoking
Thinking and hoping
This cell gon' open
You can dance next to me, but don't throw an elbow
I'll throw one back and leave blood on your Shell Toes
Hell no
I ain't paying for pleasure
Your pussy don't bring rainbows and pots of treasure
It's every girl's dream, to floss with the team
Long on the suine
DVD's on the screen
Blowing on cream
Waiting for you to scheme
You ain't gotta know how to read, to spray a magazine

[Hook]

[Tony Yayo]
I don't wanna grow up, I'mma hustler kid
Go'head and stunt, see I don't pop two your wig
I'm artistic, intelligent, so much ability
When I use them big words, your bitch be feeling me
So ya'll niggas hate me, 'cause your wives be our groupies
Ya'll irritate me, like loud people in the movies
Fall back, matter fact back down
'Cause I just passed security without no pat down
You can catch me in the bathroom blowing a sticky
Or catch me on the dancefloor feeling some tits
Sex sells, so I'mma P-I-M-P
So my pockets never be empty
It ain't no problem, we scoop them models
We got condoms, coups, and lavish condos
50 got me getting ass like I never did
So when I step in the club, hoes love the kid

[Hook]

[50 Cent]
The cat in the house go
Meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow
The bird in the cage go
Tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet
It's elementary

. . .


f/ G-Unit

We over here... with some fat chicks

[50]
Nah, I don't be fuckin wit them fat bitches
That's Yayo

[Chorus]
Don't be stuck on the things they say
now you know it's a nasty world (you know it's a nasty world)
I ain't fuckin wit you anyway
cause I know your a nasty girl (know your a nasty girl)
I ain't never gon discriminate
so let me compliment your eyes (compliment my eyes)
Yeah, It's nothin' but a little baby phat phat

[50]
Them Twinkies got your ass gettin' fat fat
Them cookies got your ass gettin' fat fat
That paint got your ass gettin' fat fat
Bitch you grown, that ain't baby fat fat

In the gym I see your ass up on the stair master
But you got it on level 2, bitch go a little faster
Look girl I ain't gon lie, I'll tell you how I feel
They should hand cuff your big ass to the treadmill
You wanna work out now, cause you know its gettin' hot
And your big ass fin to pop all up out the halter top
Find the right chick, wearing some tight shit, and it's on
See your ass wearing some tight shit, we like "She wrong"

[Chorus]
Don't be stuck on the things they say
now you know it's a nasty world (know it's a nasty world)
I ain't fuckin wit you anyway
cause I know your a nasty girl - You's a nasty girl (know your a nasty girl)
I ain't never gon discriminate
so let me compliment your eyes (compliment my eyes)

[50}
Yeah, you got some nice eyes, but you's a big bitch man
Yeah, It's nothin' but a little baby phat phat
That Burger King dun got your ass fat fat
McDonald's dun got your ass fat fat
That Dominos dun got your ass fat fat
Yeah, It's nothin' but a little baby phat phat

[Lloyd Banks]
I like 'em slim in the waste, curves in the right place
A bitch wit hips, lips, and a nice face
Your appetite'll put a dent up in a nigga salary
You need to stop burnin that weed, and burn a calorie
Your attitude is like you always have gear
You got a pony tail, you ain't always have hair
I just wanna see your Capri's comin' down
Mami we run the town, stay away if you 300 pounds

[Chorus]
Don't be stuck on the things they say
now you know it's a nasty world (know it's a nasty world)
I ain't fuckin wit you anyway
cause I know your a nasty girl - You's a nasty girl (know your a nasty girl)
I ain't never gon discriminate
so let me compliment your eyes

[50]
I'll say something nice about ya eyes, cause you's a big bitch man
Yeah, It's nothin' but a little baby phat phat
Them Entenmann's dun got your ass fat fat
Them Little Debbie's dun got your ass fat fat
These cup cakes dun got your ass fat fat
Yeah, It's nothin' but a little baby phat phat

[Tony Yayo]
I ain't no trick, I ain't have to borrow with my wallet
Freakin' off in your car, on your closet
It ain't nothing wrong wit a big, strong girl
If you can cook your ass off, I'll give you the world
You can be skinny or fat, white or black
Nigga pussy is pussy so, yeah, I'll hit that
I'm a freak, sure I love minage a trois
And I really care lees if you twice my size

[Chorus]
Don't be stuck on the things they say
now you know it's a nasty world ' It's a nasty world
I ain't fuckin wit you anyway
cause I know your a nasty girl - You's a nasty girl
I ain't never gon discriminate, so let me compliment your eyes

[50]
I'm a compliment your eyes
Yayo'll fuck wit you big bitches but I'm a stay the fuck away from ya

Them Twinkies got your ass gettin' fat fat
Them cookies got your ass gettin' fat fat
That paint got your ass gettin' fat fat
Bitch you grown, that ain't baby fat fat

Stay the fuck away from, you fuckin fat bitch
Fuck wit Tony Yayo, ho

. . .


[50 Cent]
Yo, yo we can't stay alive forever
So if shit hit the fan then we might as well die together
I'm high as ever, more holes and more cheddar
G-Unit move around wit them pounds and berreta's
Yea faggot, if I want it I'm gon' have it
Regardless if it's handed to me or I gotta grab it
Don't make a ass outta yaself tryin to stop me
I'm cocky, raps rocky, nigga you sloppy
You know that I'm, 8 levels above you nigga
I'll club you nigga, I never heard of you nigga, ugly nigga
I'm the wrong one to provoke
You rattin on niggas is only gon' leave you smoke
So the only thing left now is tools for these cowrads
I got no friends, fuck most of these cowards
They pop shit 'till we start approaching these cowards
While we lay around dollars, they lay around flowers

[Lloyd Banks]
I got a intergangstress who argue and steams wit reefer
And who flip when I call a bitch like she Queen Latifah
Not all the vehicle's is long enough to stash the streetsweeper
This shit can get uglier than the Master P sneaker
We slidin through the ruckus, wit prada on the chuckus
Soon as spring break ho's home from college wanna fuck us
I ain't here to drop knowledge on you suckas
I'll sick rottweiler's on you fuckas, cops followin to cuff us
Top dollars to discuss this, whole lotta zeros
When it comes to paper I blow a soul outta aero
I'ma break before I lay floor berry
Besides, every rapper ain't a star, nigga plad ain't bulbary
You can't tame Lloyd, smokin by the big screen
You changin the channel looks like I'm playin the game boy
I know to watch botherin ya vision
You reach and I'll put a dot on ya head like its part of yo religion
Why party wit a pigeon?
I'm blowin a 10 cuz Bush handin flyers for a party in a prison
I'm in the gucci vest wit the green and red straps
I'm the last rapper to scare niggas since Craig Mack
Now every morning's a fast start
And there aint problem gettin dressed cuz my closet got more aisles than pathmark
Run, move startin a wave
and leave wit 12 shells in ya mouth like a carton of eggs
I'm the young pimp pardon my age
I don't got long hair but if I did she be puttin my braids
Niggas find what club they at
take 'em wit us, and run a train on 'em like a subway mac
get advances from grey agra
see these record labels got most artists gettin fucked like the gay rappa'
i go the college on the tour
I'm goin down in history nigga, next to Wallace and Shakur
I keep ya ammo clean, text polished in the drawer
Camera's by the hamper that mine into the floor
by now, you probably heard of me
fresh outta surgery, flashy as a fuck, you gon' have to murder me
Burglary, I'm leavin wit cha nike's bergendy, White T, bergendy
you match now, back down
niggas love to hate you, but love you when you disappear
catch me on the boat wit weed smoke and official gear
heavy when I toke, C notes from different years
Besly in the robe, re-motes for liftin chairs
You ain't rich, but we glad to snatch ya
I send cars to crib like I'm a cab dispatcha
you better off wit ya stupid guys, lookin for a coupe to drive
you ain't gettin nuttin but ya french fries supersized
it's a damn shame y'all still local
I'm in a million dollar studio layin my vocals
Nigga

[50 Cent]
Still in the projects nigga, you ain't goin nowhere
you gon' fuckin be there for the rest of yo muthafuckin life
and yo momma said, I'm supposed to tell you somethin.....
to encourage you, somethin positive
aight well I ain't gon' lie to you muthafucka, he ain't goin nowhere
get yaself a beer, get on the fuckin curve
fuckin dirtbag

. . .


(feat. Tony Yayo (G-Unit))

[50 Cent]
Now play my Tony Yayo shit

Yeah, 50 Cent
G-Unit
Remix
Tony Yayo
We gonna do it again

[Hook: repeat 2X]
Back seat of the Caddy truck or Tahoe
Back seat of the Benz truck or Expo
Back seat of X5 or Range Rov'
So when I pick you up, you know how this shit go - hoe

[Tony Yayo]
Hey yo, my truck talk for me
If I was bummy and ugly
Your bitch'll still have love for me
As long as I push a truck, rims chunky
Never open my lips, your bitch wanna fuck me
Beep the air horn, hop in turn the heat on
Pick you up off the streets get your feet warm
She giving sex cause the Lex truck takes unleaded
Big thick thighs, eyes browner than Sahara deserts
Deuce-Deuce, bitches, yeah they caught your eye
And them loud system full of bass and highs
You see that X5 BM
Packed with Puerto Ricans
Bad mommies on the low, just creepin
Niggas be frontin like they bubbling coke
But they really struggling with a high car note, ha ... (YEAH)

[50 Cent]
Might see me in the Jeep
Rollin' 'round 4 deep
And you know we on the creep
Nigga, I'm holdin' it

[Hook]

[Tony Yayo]
Back seat of my truck lets swing an episode 
Fuck a hotel we have sex on the road
I pull the seats back
Put the sheets in the luggage rack
Pull out my balls
And play an Aaron Hall track 
I tell a chick "Bend over, mami"
Hit 'em with the Henny Dick
Now my windows foggy
Its time to party, I got TV's, CD's and DVD's
Now bitch, get on your knees
You could be a model chick or a silly hood rat
Don't cum on my leather, don't stain my floor mats
Where's your baby mama?
She in the truck and I'm blessin her 
Undressing her
Make hop out for air re-freshener
I ain't stressing her
'Cause my rims keep checkin her
She's 21, my rim size older than her
TWENTY TWO'S

[50 Cent]
Niggas say they want beef
But when they see me in the street
They don't slow down to speak 
'Cause they know I'm holdin ..

[Hook]

. . .


f/ G-Unit

(chorus)
When you frown at me is it because I wont provide for you girl
your after me cheddar
And you friends they see it to screaming we know what your up to do girl
I'm after my cheddar

(50 cent)
I gave you your style Gucci this Fendi that
Burberry bag shoes and the hat to match
I like the way it look but bitch I aint buying that
I hate to be the bearer of bad news but no more Prada shoes
When I just wanna chill you wanna go out
See me parle with some other chick you wanna show out
You say I'm wrong when I dog yo ass like I should
now you reminisce about all the time I treated you good

(chorus)

(Lloyd Banks)
when you think about me grinding my fans
You even got more watch on but it's to much time on your hands
They say behind every good man is a woman
So tash pull up stash the cannon linen
I'll never be your chofuer to the mall
You'll learn to appreciate cd's and posters on the wall
fatal attractions is mad real
Last bitch I deaded got mad and swallowed 50 Advil's

(chorus)

(Tony Yayo)
They say money make the world go round
Material things make a hoe go down
I see you in your Prada Gucci and BCBG
Bitch I'm rich but I don't trick on GP
That's 5 dollar dresses and 10 dollar skirts
Bitch play the strip and put in work
Birds wanna have my baby since I signed my contract
Now I got to double up in case the condom snap

(50 cent)
Look don't ask me for shit man
I aint got nothing for you man what?
Bitch what the fuck you mean I can't sing bitch
Bitch I'm Luther Vandross in the shower
G-UNIT!

. . .


f/ G-Unit

[50 Cent and DJ Whoo Kid talking]

[Hook]
(I'm a soldier) G-UNIT! I started my own gang
(I'm a soldier) G-UNIT!
(I'm a soldier) G-UNIT! I started my own gang
(I'm a soldier) G-UNIT!

[50 Cent]
It's a fact homie, eagles don't fly in flocks
But the eagles I got own sixteen shots
Like beefin', homie I ain't sayin' a word
I'll run up on your punk ass squeezing the bird
Now what New York niggas know about country grammar
Not much, but we know how to bang them hammers
When I pull out that thing, you better break yourself
Or win a trip to ICU, and you can take yourself
If you lucky motherfucker, I'm solider I told ya
Push ya shit back, put my knife through ya six pack
Gat bust, adrenaline rush, blowin' the dust
Five point O, burnin' the cluth, while I'm burnin' the dutch
You thought them other niggas was hot, I'm turnin' it up
This the blueprint, nigga are you learnin' or what
You done told me you respect me, now tell me I'm the nicest
Admit it nigga, I'm a mid-life crisis

[Hook]
(I'm a soldier) G-UNIT! I started my own gang
(I'm a soldier) G-UNIT! (I got the rep of a villian, the weapon concealin')
(I'm a soldier) G-UNIT! I started my own gang
(I'm a soldier) G-UNIT! (full of controversy until I retire my jersey)

[Lloyd Banks]
It's like niggas rate the respect of who gat bigger
Banks been blowin' on purple stuff before that fat nigga
Henny's make dollars, and dollars make death threats
I'm doin' remixes to bulletproof the Lex next
Duck nigga, everdays war
I'm heavy on sports, to my draw like NBA's store
Don't make me send the piece at you
I'll have your man walk around with another rest in peace tattoo
Look creampuff, you can get killed here
Nigga you ain't invincible, even Superman in a wheel chair
I've always been a picky man, but I ain't a flowered star
So I'mma fuck all fifty fans
Look, whether you like it or not, right in ya spot
All in your grill, wearin' the crown, airin' em down
We're in the pound puttin' fare in the clown
I'm running with gangstas, don't make one of em shank ya

[Hook]
(I'm a soldier) G-UNIT! I started my own gang
(I'm a soldier) G-UNIT! (I got the rep of a villian, the weapon concealin')
(I'm a soldier) G-UNIT! I started my own gang
(I'm a soldier) G-UNIT! (full of controversy until I retire my jersey)

[Tony Yayo]
I'mma ride with my rap shit and my body armor
Ride like a Taliban suicide bomber
Four five six feet, I off ya feet
I kill ya with a pillow when you fall asleep
Your records can't sell, your company is buyin' em
Give it up, Burger King is hirin'
You shoulda been a cop, cause you snitch a lot
Talkin' to the jakes, you bound to get shot
I used to watch Big Bird and Scooby Doo
Now I'm choppin' big birds and them bundles too
For that Master P money, that shoppin' spree money
That coke, that dope and that ecstasy money
I'm tryin' to build empires across the state line
So move like vampires, never see me in the daytime
I jump out with a nina and a mack
I have you like Khia, my neck, my back

. . .


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

{*song borrows beat & samples from Hi-Tek & Talib Kweli's "The Blast"*}

[50 Cent]
Ga ga G-Unit! (body) haha, yo, yo

I need no introduction, everybody (body)
Heard of 50 Cent, and heard of G-Unit
I'm not Hi-Tek and I'm not Kweli (Kweli) - you see me in the club
You better tell the bouncers to treat me special, I'm somebody (body)
Cause I get on that jet, in 5 minutes flat
Niggaz'll come back, shoot up your party (party)
If I don't have fun, nobody havin' none
I'm tryin' to holla at ya, come here shorty (shorty)
Shout out to my nigga Juvie, Wacko's here
Buck, my niggaz from New Orleans, wodie (wodie)
If we on the same page, when you see me on stage
You gonna throw your hands up, and you gonna applaud me (plaud me)
You know how I get, I'm still on that bullshit, nigga, nigga

[Tony Yayo]
I run around with the trey (body) pound like its a sport
And call my name in the bench, while I sit in court
I got a million dollar smile (body), and a fist full of pesos
And the wrist so icey, it could light up a stage show
In the club (body), nigga I stay holdin'
Cause I'm on point for them wolves, and sheep clothin'
I play the bar (body), with a double shot of Henny
Cause after this spot, its cheaters, and envy
(Shorty if you feel a nigga, call me) (body)

[Lloyd Banks]
Yeah, Banks, yeah
Look you ain't got to like me, that's (body) cool, I don't give a fuck
Clowny time ain't gonna put me in a bigger truck
Fuck kids, it (body) ain't my turn to be stressed
A bitch worse nightmare is a paternity test
I'm too young to be faithful (body)
If money means love, I hate you
I only trick on the first of April
Holla at me, if you thugged (body) out shorty ready to fight you
Dice, roll a blunt, and pull the snub out for me
And if your not don't even (body) call me


. . .


AHHHHHHHH YOU

what the fuck man, this that nigga
banger man
no more fuckin smurf, i got some
wools with meman
Yah nigga, thats whats up
thats this nigga Jess, nigga AT
My motherfuckin nigga, wrong lee
Low, that nigga Ice, you know
109 got brew
Do or die, Ja, Star, woo
Big leaky leak, my brother Sweets,
my nigga eddie
G-UNITTT
My niggas bang bang, my nigga 50,
G-UNIT ALL DAY
I'll buck a nigga for my nigga 50, that
act up nigga
We got some wools with us niggas
Fuckin faggots
We ain't no blood or a crip nigga
We doin our own thing
G-UNIT!


. . .


f/ Lloyd Banks, Tony Yayo

Yo, niggas be askin me "yo 50 who you got beef wit?"
I'm a tell yall niggas who I got beef wit
I got beef wit any nigga I can't make no money wit
If I can't make no money wit you, fuck you nigga
G-Unit nigga, thats whatsup cause I said thats whatsup

[Tony Yayo]
I get money, money I got
so its a 100 grams or better when I'm going to cop
I never hold the toaster cause I use my little soldier
And my down bitch as a holster, like I'm supposed ta
heavy pistol sales for living
my gun rip through lungs and tear through tissue
while I'm out for the ends, you out for a rep
thats the same thing that have yo mama in a black dress
see me in a black lex, hard-top
My mink drop-top, fresh out the carlot
I got the gift of raw pugilist speeches(?)
So I'm gon sell like the box office features
Niggas in the hood can't see G-UNIT!
but deep in they heart they wanna be G-UNIT!
cause we got them three b's: benzes, burners and bitches
and plus we on the road to the riches

[Chorus: repeat 2X]
You can say what you want about me
As long as you don't get in the way of my money
Cause all that talking shit to me played out
Nigga keep bumping your gums you get laid out

[Lloyd Banks]
Lately I been going through a phase
Hope they aint tap the phones
Cause we got pumps the size of saxophones
Therefore I'm on the move with the squad
I'm stingy as ever, known to trick fast food on a broad
Picture me putting jewels on a broad
I'd rather put shoes on the car
A pool in the yard
You don't really wanna fool with the god
Nigga my front line long enough to fill two boulevards
In this game, you only make it far if you loyal
And if you grew up with your mother and your father you spoiled
Why swing, you gotta be strapped to get rid of me
Ill leave you in water like the statute of liberty
Tryin to be cool
Blowin green that strong enough to make a white boy open fire on a school
Keep rappin for your hood, I'm rappin for benzes
And long assault rifles with straps on the lenses

[Chorus]

[50 Cent]
Yall niggas gotta learn from me (Yeah!!)
What I learned from Gotta Rock and Spank G (Un-Huh)
Yall niggas gotta learn from me (Yeah!!)
What I learned from watching Brucie B
Look, I shot the sheriff
And nigga if you get too close yo punk ass getting shot
Here's the plan, I'm a keep stackin my ends
Till I'm on airplane seats in the Maebach benz
I'm all about the chips
I done took them trips
22's on the 6
26 on the bricks
And them outta town niggas, I'm chargin yall more
I tapdance on the shit I aint servin it raw
You sell smoke, look nigga I got what you need
But it aint goin cheap I got mouths to feed
Niggas always sayin damn 50 you bugged
Cause I got hoes giving niggas the date rape drug
Gimme his watch and his chain
We not the same, he a lame
He want pussy I'm bout my money man
Crap table in Vegas had his bitch on my dick
Threw a 7 so many times they thought the dice was fixed
Yo its 50, when your mindframe change and start to rearrange
I'll see you another day motherfucker it's 50
Shots 'til your heart drop and freeze up, ease up motherfucker

[Chorus]

. . .



[ Intro - 50 Cent talking ]
You know Clue man, I'm tryin' to holler at this bitch right and I'm like
yeah, I told her I write music for a living
And she's like need I say yeah, my name is 50 Cent
And she said "oh you 50 Cent, you know I love your music
I listen to DJ Clue, I hear your music all the time"
And I'm like yeah, this bitch on my dick
I love this music shit, man, this shit is the shit right here, man
Hey yo, but I seen you in that black Escalade, Clue
And I seen your boy Skane in that silver 745 boy
Man, ya'll playin' hardball like a motherfucker
See me I switch up hoopties cause niggaz play me, just to shoot me
You know how it is in the hood

Dead men don't hear no applause
Don't men don't go off on tours
Dead men don't accept no awards
50 that thought you was dead kid, kid

[ Chorus - 2X]
50, it's 50, it's 50, motherfucker
I'm back, I'm back, I'm back motherfucker
Niggaz thought they got me
9, 9 shells couldn't stop me
I "Hit 'Em Up" worse than Pac, watch me

[ Verse 1 ]
I don't hesitate to pull out the burnin' nigga
I stick my snub nose in shit, that don't concern a nigga
I'm the reason that Coupe, ain't got no top
I'm the reason that Rouger, ain't got no shots
And when I squeeze, I tend to keep on squeezin'
If your lucky, you can run, and keep on breathin' (yeah)
When my knife hit ya windpipe and you start wheezin' (huh)
You put your hand over the hole, and it gonna stop the breathin' (woo)
I am what I am, and I ain't gonna change
My 5th clip loaded to the tip, I'll blow out ya brains
Trust me, I'm not what you used to homie (grrr)
You little faggot, I'll tell ya fuckin' boss to blow me (uh huh)
I'm puttin' pressure on you, you payin' the pump (yeah)
About to die like a man, but you live like a chump (uh huh)
I only walk wit a limp, when I walk wit a pump
I can't wait to see you scatter, when I pull out and dunk ya (TAKE THAT)

[ Chorus ]
50, it's 50, it's 50, motherfucker (uh huh)
I'm back, I'm back, I'm back motherfucker (I'm back)
Niggaz thought they got me
9, 9 shells couldn't stop me
I "Hit 'Em Up" worse than Pac, watch me (do it up nigga)

50, it's 50, it's 50, motherfucker
I'm back, I'm back, I'm back motherfucker (uh huh)
Niggaz thought they got me
9, 9 shells couldn't stop me
I "Hit 'Em Up" worse than Pac, watch me

[ Outro - 50 Cent talking ]
This time, I'm gonna hit 'em harder (harder, harder)
This time, I'm gonna hit 'em harder (harder, harder)
50 Cent (50 Cent), G-Unit (G-Unit)
DJ Clue (DJ Clue), Early (Early)
(Yo I'm over here chillin' wit my man 50 Cent) (50 Cent)
Damn, (we both from Queens)
That's hot man, rewind that (you know what I'm sayin')
(Hey, ya'll niggaz cannot stop Queens) (WOO)

. . .



Funk Flex
Yeah, G-Unit
You understand whats about to happen?
huh .. huh? (do you understand?)

Nigga guess who's bizzack
It's not Beanie Sieg' or Jay-Hov'
50 Cent y'all niggas should know
Don't make me relapse
Run up on your ass with the fo'
You punk nigga I done told you before

Fuck being in a cage, man that shits for the birds
I do my dirt in the hood, but I live in the burbs
When you talk be careful how you choose your words
Cause I send niggas to put ya fuckin brains on the curb
Am I my brother's keeper? Yes I am
Nigga you know they gettin low you see that gun in my hand
G-Unit - don't go fuckin with my soldiers, boy
Get laid out, im'a say I told you boy
See you rollin with 20 niggas, we rolling with 20 guns
16 hollows is loaded in every one
I know you slow, so
I do the math thats 320 shells flyin at your ass (ha)
You spend a lot of time talkin about how you ball out
When u get hit you gonna run and bleed till u fall down
I guess you didnt think we was down to go all out
One second, you was wrong
You ain't on the shit we on
My money getting long
Now my team getting strong
I'm gone
Gone

Nigga guess who's bizzack
It's not Beanie Sieg' or Jay-Hov'
50 Cent y'all niggas should know
Don't make me relapse
Run up on your ass with the fo'
You punk nigga I done told you before
Nigga guess who's bizzack
It's not Beanie Sieg' or Jay-Hov'
50 Cent y'all niggas should know
Don't make me relapse
Run up on your ass with the fo'
You punk nigga I done told you before

... 50 cent
And I'm back to act up so strap up
Funk Flex
Kingpin style
Ya heard me
C'mon, c'mon
Make me cut something
Make me bust something
C'mon, c'mon
I want you to
C'mon

. . .



[50 Cent talking]

[Hook]
You want beef wit me? take a number, and get in line
You bump heads wit me? I pop ya top off wit the nine
You mad at me? Shit cause you can't shine
You ain't gettin' yours? thats fucked up cause I'm gettin' mine

[50 Cent]
I got a M1 in my hand, I'm feelin' to start killin' shit
I'm not the nation's new Malcolm X, but I'm militant
What, I'm supposed to be scared cause you got a big chest?
My four fifth will lift you and your motherfuckin' bench press
Why you screamin' war senseless, I'm tryin' to spaz
Swing my knife, tore break it off in yo ass
Niggas get hugged up in the huddle, I know how to clear 'em out
Four fifth, four shots, that'll fuckin' air 'em out
In the hood niggas love me cause I keep it real
G-Unit niggas, they gon' always make bail
Whether it's two G's or twenty G's
Whether or not wit two pieces or two keys
Bitch please, get on ya knees you can lick these balls
I'm not that nigga that you striptease for
You gotta a problem or anger nigga to call
Cause I'm out like a pimp and a trick, bitch!

[Hook]
You want beef wit me? take a number, get in line
You bump heads wit me? I pop ya top off wit the nine
You mad at me? Shit cause you can't shine
You ain't get yours? That's fucked up cause I'm gettin' mine

[50 Cent talks till end]

. . .

Scarlet Skit

[No lyrics]

. . .


f/ G-Unit

[50 Cent]
I wanna be the reason you smile after you wipe ya tears
The reason you have the courage to confront ya fears
The reason there's two karats in each of ya ears
I splurge with the paper ma, I don't care
How you like it, pumps or boots, jeeps or coops
Minks or leathers, fifty fall off never
Whats mine is yours and whats yours is mine
So when I shine, you shine
The finest champagne, we can toast to life
Crap table in Vegas, you can toss the dice
Don't let ya fears let you confuse sayin' "fifty's bad news"
I need you in my life girl, your too much to lose

[Beat switches]

[Hook]
Nigga, you won't deny that I'ma fuckin' ride out
Then you'll bump heads wit me
I'll put a hole in yo ass, you'll see
That it ain't cool to fuck wit me

[Tony Yayo]
G-Unit, I roll wit gorillas
Fuck a big body guard, I hang wit pint size killas
I ain't tryin' to be dirty, still on the strip
I'm tryin' to be dirty, filthy rich
Give a nigga too much rope, he think he a cowboy
Give Tony too much dope, I'm pushin' the big boy
V12, SL detailed
I rap and wait for them checks in the mail
If you hatin', your due time life will expire
Cause my guns speak jamaican, they be like "Bloodfire!"
Where I'm from, niggas be on some sleak shit
They hungry, use they lighters to cook their beef stick
And this 'dro and this nestle got me right
So my lungs be as black as Wesley Snipes
I'm on first class flights heading towards Vegas
Ya slot machines niggas, we crap table players
I roll a seven, cause we crap table players

[Hook]
Nigga, you won't deny that I'ma fuckin' ride out
Then you'll bump heads wit me
I'll put a hole in yo ass, you'll see
That it ain't cool to fuck wit me

[Lloyd Banks]
I know a lot of niggas want Banks gone
My kind of beef will fuck up ya grill and not the kind you put franks on
I'm hidin' out, so my meals is home cooked
I deal wit more ho's than a chinese phone book
Your high with your messed up ratchets
I'm out blowin' haze bags the size of ketchup packets
Fuck who's in ya ride, there's tools on my side
By the females standin' with tattoos on they thighs
There's a lot of cats losin' they wives
Cause next time I see 'em, they got black and blues on they eyes
Nah, I ain't ready to die, but I'm prepared
But I'd rather grow old with grey hairs in my beard
They know me in the field, the kid with the fans
That argue over my balls like Kobe and Shaquille
If you talkin' bout millions throw me in the deal
Big city, stadium tour, ruining the bill motherfucker

. . .


f/ Skip (U.T.P.), Young Buck

[Male voice talking]
Right now with the situation gettin' better
So I'm doin' you things, holla

[50 Cent]
Yeah, 50 Cent, uh huh, check me out

Now piece by piece we put it all together
Time to get this dough nigga, it's now or never
I'm wild as ever, foul as ever
Reap whatever, whatever, whatever
They say I'm a slick talker, shit talker
Grimy ass New Yorker
Come gutcha, gum futcher, lay your ass out
If you ever catch beef nigga, call on me
If you fucked up in school nigga, it's all on me
I get a left foot to drop a nigga, pistol to pop a nigga
Break you off proper nigga, the cops ain't gonna stop a nigga (yeah)
Let's get this money man, them hos come with the paper
I'm done to go wherever this game takes us
Look homey, you see my 22's, sittin' on low bros
That simple mathematics, that equal more hoes
I smoke a lot of dro, I got a lot of flows
Shit I didn't have to say that, ya'll already know

[Chorus] - 2X
From New York to New Orleans
A problem, holla at me
My niggas comin' to see
If everythin' is alright

Ya'll niggas can blow some trees
Have coke and some Hennessey
My niggas from U.T.P.
Everythin' is alright

[Young Buck]
For those who couldn't figure me out, what this nigga be bout
Cookin' it, and cuttin' it, and flippin' it, in 24 hours
I keep a dyke, on the back of the bike
In the summertime the white
Air Force One's, Louie Baton, Nike style (woo)
Don't really talk much (uh huh), I let my money speak
I know you saw us, shit we a 100 deep
I'm sippin' Don, with Juan, Bird, and smokin' weed
Shakin' them haters off, bouncin' to this jukin' beat
Fuckin' with 50, cause he strictly about head bustin'
Lettin' New York know these Unica niggas ain't stuntin'
Nigga we ain't runnin', I guarantee you that
After these messages we'll be right back
Take off that necklace a, because this tech will hit a
Innocent bystander who don't respect a nigga
After you finish your collard greens and cornbread
Get you a glock, and come around here where my mom stayin'

[Chorus]

[Skip]
From South I 95, 85, 65 right at the I 10, get your money widened
I got the Columbian, and I'm gonna hold 'em down
When you get close, call nigga I'm gonna guide you down
You got it now, (got it), well then what time you leavin'?
In a couple of hours, some time close to this evenin'
What us speed with V8, them cops then heated
They locked my partner Gus up for smokin' weed and speedin'
But he'll be home though, probably about the same time you get ya
Shit yeah, seems like we paid his bond like last year
But anyway, you know that thing we thought that was, but wasn't?
Well come to find out, my homey found somethin'
But he had to choke a bitch, and fo' pound somethin'
Cause I told him, what you told me about the chump and he chumped 'em
Put the barrel bottle pump, and pumped 'em
And pumped 'em and pumped 'em, and pumped 'em and pumped 'em

[Chorus]

[Male voice talking]
We over here, E, shots of, sippin' on Courvoisier
Yeah Rockin' exclusive, haha, haha...

. . .


[Intro: 50 Cent]
It's 50 a.k.a Ferrari F-50
Break it down
I got a lot of living to do before I die
And I ain't got tyme to waste
Let's make it

[50 Cent]
You said you a gansta but you neva pop nuttin'
You said you a wanksta and you need to stop frontin'
You ain't a friend of mine, (huh)
You ain't no kin of mine, (nah)
What makes you think that I'ma run up on you with tha nine
We do this all tha tyme, right now we on tha grind
So hurry up and copy and go selling nicks and dimes
Shorty she so fyne, I gotta make her mine
A ass like dat gotta be one of a kind
I crush 'em everytime, punch 'em with every nine
I'm fuckin with they mind
I make 'em press rewind
They know they can't shine if I'm around the rhyme
Been on Paroza's, 94 cuz I commit tha crime
I send you my line, I did it three ta nine
If D's ran up in my crib, you know who droppin dimes

[Chorus 2X: 50 Cent]
You said you a gangsta
But you neva pop nuttin
You said you a wanksta
And you need to stop frontin'
You go to the dealership
But you neva cop nuttin'
You been hustlin a long tyme
And you ain't got nuttin

[Verse 2]
Damn Homie, in highskew you was tha man, homie
What tha fuck happened to you?
I got tha sickest phonetta, when it come to tha chedda
And if you play wit my paper, you gotta meet my berretta
Now shorty think I'ma sweat her, sippin on amoretta
I'm livin once than deada, I know I can do betta
She look good but I know she after my chedda
She tryna get in my pockets, homie and I ain't gonna let her
Be easy, stop tha bullshit, you get your whole crew wet
We in tha club doin' the same ol' two step
Gorilla unit cuz they say we bugged out
Cuz we don't go nowhere without toast we thugged out

[Chorus 2X]

[Verse 3]
Me I'm no monsta, me I'm no gangsta
Me I'm no hitman, me I'm jus me, me
Me I'm no wanksta, me I'm no acta
But it's me you see on your TV
Cuz I hustle baby, this rap shit is so easy
I'm gettin' what you get for a brick to talk greasy
By any means, partner, I got to eat on these streets
If you play me close, for sure I'm gonna pop my heat
Niggas sayin they goin murd' 50, how?
We ridin 'round with guns the size of Lil Bow Wow
What you know about AK's and AR 15's?
Equipped with night vision, shell catchers and dem things, huh

[Chorus 2X]

. . .

Star & Buc Outro

[No lyrics]

. . .


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