[Intro] Hahaha I told niggas not to shoot dice with me Look at this stack I got money I got money Hahaha
[50 Cent] Aww nigga don't trip I'll kill ya if you fuck with my grip I won't hesitate to let off a clip Aww nigga don't trip You gon' make me get on some shit Run up on you quick What up, you're whipped Aww nigga don't trip You gon' get ya monkey ass hit Run in ya whip tryna fuck with my clique Aww nigga don't trip Case you didn't know who this is Its 50 Cent bitch, G-Unit Aww nigga don't trip
[Verse 1- 50 Cent] I come through your hood, stuntin' in my yellow lam Murcielago, top down, nigga damn I'm the biggest crook from New York since son of Sam Cruisin', bumpin' Bugz shit, ruger in my hand Thinkin' the east ain't enough, its time to expand I plan to head out west and plant my feet down A nigga big as King Kong in the street now I do a lil house shoppin', and buy me a crib Its palm trees and pretty bitches out in Cali kid I touched the Hollywood paper, go and shoot me some flicks Have some supermodel bitches come and suck on my dick My mom turn in her grave if I married a white chick But baby'll suck the chrome off the Chevy and shit niggas be wearin' fake signs, I'm rockin' a lil charm Thirty karrots on the pinky, kiss the ring on the Don Crack open that Cali bud, stuff the weight in the bomb
[Chorus- 50 Cent] nigga you hustle, but me I hustle harder I got what you need, them trees, that heart, that powder My niggas we gee packs, devour on the hour They shoot when I say shoot, so I'm in the position of power You fuck around if you wanna
[Verse 2- 50 Cent] Where I'm from, you learn to blend in, or get touched I don't need niggas for support, I don't walk with a crutch niggas know my stage, they don't fuck with me son You got an appetite for hollow-tips, I'll feed you my gun This is that ferrari F-50 shit, its real layed back Type shit you recline to in the Maybach I got two suiters now, on the run from the fuzz You get the same shit for ten bodies, you get for one cuz I live life in the fast lane, 100 miles an hour, chrome and some wood grain You know a nigga still really tryna move cane Make a lil extra money on the side mayn I ain't playin', I'm up early with the birds word Puttin' that work in, parrelli's on the Porsche chirpin' I got a hundred mill from music, a hundred grand from crack Goin' to see my jeweler, so I can blow a stack
[Chorus- 50 Cent] nigga you hustle, but me I hustle harder I got what you need, them trees, that heart, that powder My niggas we gee packs, devour on the hour They shoot when I say shoot, so I'm in the position of power You fuck around if you wanna
Compositores: Jonathan Reuven Rotem, Curtis James Jackson (50 Cent) ECAD: Obra #1614062 Fonograma #962246