50 Cent - "Get Rich Or Die Tryin'" Albüm Şarkı Sözleri (2003)

 

İşte 2003 yılında müzik dünyasında kalıcı bir iz bırakan, sokak kültürünün ham ve sarsıcı gerçekliğini yansıtan o efsanevi albümün detaylı analizi.

Sokakların Sesi: Bir Dönem Belgesi Olarak 2003 Albümü

Müzik dünyasında bazı albümler sadece şarkı listelerinden ibaret değildir; bir atmosferi, bir yaşam mücadelesini ve bir karakterin dönüşümünü belgeler. Bu albüm, tam da böyle bir noktada duruyor. Şöhretin getirdiği parıltıyla, sokakların karanlık gerçekliği arasındaki ince çizgide yürüyen bir anlatıcının, doğrudan ve tavizsiz bir dille aktardığı hikayelerden oluşuyor. Hem sert hem de savunmasız olan bu çalışma, dinleyiciye adeta bir sinema filmi izliyormuş hissi veren derinlikli bir kurguya sahip.

### [What Up Gangsta?]

 * **Ana Tema:** Aidiyet, bölgesel kimlik ve sarsılmaz bir sokak otoritesi.

 * **Lirik Analizi:** Albümün giriş parçası, dinleyiciyi doğrudan sanatçının dünyasının merkezine yerleştiriyor. Sokak jargonunun kullanımıyla kurulan bu güçlü başlangıç, sanatçının bulunduğu konumu ve çevreyle olan etkileşimini tanımlıyor. "G-Unit" vurgusuyla, bir ekip bilincinin ve sokaktaki hiyerarşinin altı çiziliyor. Şarkı, lirik bir saldırıdan ziyade bir varlık ilanı niteliğinde.

### [Patiently Waiting]

 * **Ana Tema:** Sabır, hırs ve zirveye giden zorlu yolda yaşananların birikimi.

 * **Lirik Analizi:** Başarıya ulaşmadan önceki uzun ve sancılı süreci anlatan bu eser, bir tür hesaplaşma ve motivasyon şarkısı. Sanatçı, geçirdiği zorlukları "İsa'nın lütufları" ile harmanlayarak, yaşadığı acıların kendisini nasıl şekillendirdiğini anlatıyor. *"God's the seamstress that tailor-fitted my pain"* (Tanrı, acımı tam üzerime göre dikmiş bir terzidir) dizeleri, sanatçının yaşadıklarını bir kader ve güçlenme süreci olarak gördüğünü kanıtlıyor.

### [Many Men (Wish Death)]

 * **Ana Tema:** İhanet, hayatta kalma arzusu ve ölüm korkusuyla harmanlanmış bir metanet.

 * **Lirik Analizi:** Albümün en duygusal ve aynı zamanda en karanlık parçalarından biri. Sanatçı, çevresindeki birçok insanın onun sonunu görmeyi arzuladığını, ancak ilahi bir koruma altında hayata tutunduğunu savunuyor. Ölümle burun buruna gelmiş bir adamın içsel yolculuğu olan bu parça, *"Death gotta be easy, 'cause life is hard"* (Ölüm kolay olmalı, çünkü yaşam zor) gibi felsefi bir derinliğe sahip.

### [In Da Club]

 * **Ana Tema:** Eğlence, zaferin kutlanması ve özgüven.

 * **Lirik Analizi:** Albümün enerjisini doruğa taşıyan bu parça, doğrudan bir başarı marşı. Lüksü, kadınları ve gece hayatını birer ödül olarak sunan sanatçı, bu noktaya gelene kadar verdiği emeğin tadını çıkarıyor. Şarkıdaki her nota, zorluklardan gelen birinin kendi krallığında nasıl hüküm sürdüğünü simgeliyor.

### [High All The Time]

 * **Ana Tema:** Gerçeklikten kaçış ve sokak hayatının getirdiği stresle başa çıkma yöntemi.

 * **Lirik Analizi:** Madde kullanımını sadece bir keyif unsuru değil, aynı zamanda yoğun baskı ve sürekli tetikte olmanın getirdiği zihinsel yorgunluğu dindirme biçimi olarak ele alıyor. Sanatçı, lüks içkiler yerine kendi seçtiği yöntemlerle huzur bulduğunu vurgularken, bu durumun tehlikelerini de göz ardı etmiyor.

### [Heat]

 * **Ana Tema:** Kontrolsüz şiddet, intikam ve güvenlik takıntısı.

 * **Lirik Analizi:** Dinleyiciyi adeta bir çatışmanın tam ortasına koyan bu parça, oldukça gerilimli ve tehditkar. Hukuki sonuçlardan ziyade, sokaktaki adaletin hızına odaklanıyor. *"The DA can play this motherfucking tape in court"* (Bölge savcısı bu kaseti mahkemede çalabilir) ifadesiyle, sanatçının korkusuzluğunu ve yaptıklarıyla yüzleşmeye hazır olduğunu ortaya koyuyor.

### [If I Can't]

 * **Ana Tema:** Azim, kararlılık ve engelleri aşma yetisi.

 * **Lirik Analizi:** Bu parça, sanatçının kendi yeteneklerine olan sarsılmaz inancını yansıtıyor. Hiç kimsenin onun yükselişini engelleyemeyeceği mesajını veren şarkı, otobiyografik unsurları da içeriyor. Özellikle eğitmenleri ile olan geçmişiyle kurduğu kıyaslama, sınıf atlama ve statü kazanma arzusunun somut bir kanıtı.

### [Blood Hound]

 * **Ana Tema:** Sadakat, sokak kuralları ve düşmanlara karşı takınılan tavır.

 * **Lirik Analizi:** Ekip ruhunun ön planda olduğu, sadakatin hayati önem taşıdığını anlatan bir parçadır. Sanatçı, ihanet edenlere karşı ne kadar acımasız olabileceğini, sokak dilindeki "kan tazısı" metaforuyla betimliyor. Düşmanlarına karşı sergilediği kararlılık, şarkının her dizesine sinmiş durumda.

### [Back Down]

 * **Ana Tema:** Meydan okuma, üstünlük kurma ve düşmanların maskesini düşürme.

 * **Lirik Analizi:** Doğrudan hedef alan, isim vermeden veya vererek karşısındakini yıpratmaya yönelik agresif bir lirik performansı. Sanatçının rap sahnesindeki yerini kimseye kaptırmayacağını, gerekirse en sert yollarla savunacağını açıkça belirtiyor.

### [P.I.M.P.]

 * **Ana Tema:** Maddiyat, manipülasyon ve sokak dünyasında kadın-erkek ilişkilerinin çıkar odaklı yapısı.

 * **Lirik Analizi:** Bu parça, sokak jargonundaki "pimps" kültürünün ironik ve doğrudan bir eleştirisi. Aşkın yerine parayı koyan, ilişkileri bir ticaret olarak gören bir anlayışı temsil ediyor. Sanatçı, duygusal bağlara yer bırakmayan, rasyonel ve soğukkanlı bir "kazanç odaklı" yaşam tarzını savunuyor.

### [Like My Style]

 * **Ana Tema:** Özgünlük, tarzını kabul ettirme ve etkileyicilik.

 * **Lirik Analizi:** Kendi özgünlüğünü ve yaşam tarzını bir "marka" olarak pazarlayan sanatçı, dinleyicinin neden kendisini takip ettiğini sorguluyor. Müziğinin, tarzının ve hayatı yaşayış biçiminin, başkaları tarafından taklit edilmek istendiğini vurguluyor.

### [Poor Lil Rich]

 * **Ana Tema:** Fakirlikten zenginliğe geçişin yarattığı tezat ve değişen bakış açısı.

 * **Lirik Analizi:** Albümün en ilginç konseptlerinden biri; hala fakir bir zihniyete sahip olan ancak artık zenginliğin tüm imkanlarını elinde tutan bir karakterin analizidir. Geçmişiyle kurduğu bağ, bugünkü harcamaları ve yaşam tarzı arasındaki köprüyü kurarken, hala sokakların bir parçası olduğunu hatırlatıyor.

### [21 Questions]

 * **Ana Tema:** Koşulsuz sevgi arayışı, sadakat testi ve savunmasızlık.

 * **Lirik Analizi:** Albümün en yumuşak, en sorgulayıcı ve en derin parçalarından biri. Sanatçı, şöhret, para ve güç olmadığı durumlarda bile sevilebilecek miyim sorusunu yöneltiyor. 21 soruyla bir partneri test ederken, aslında kendi güvensizliklerini ve yalnızlığını ortaya döküyor.

### [Don't Push Me]

 * **Ana Tema:** Sınırları zorlama, sabrın tükenmesi ve tehlikeli bir noktada durma.

 * **Lirik Analizi:** Baskı altında kalan bir insanın patlama anını temsil ediyor. Çevresindeki herkesin onu zorladığı, hayatta kalma içgüdüsünün saldırganlığa dönüştüğü bir kırılma noktasıdır. *"Right now I'm on the edge so don't push me"* nakaratı, bu gerilimi en sade ve etkili biçimde özetliyor.

### [Gotta Make It To Heaven]

 * **Ana Tema:** Kurtuluş arayışı, günahlar ve huzura ulaşma arzusu.

 * **Lirik Analizi:** Cehennemi (sokak hayatını ve acıları) yaşayan birinin, huzura (cennete) ulaşma çabası. Hayatın zorluklarına karşı gösterdiği direnci, dini ve spiritüel metaforlarla besliyor. Şarkı, tüm bu şiddet ve kaosun sonunda bir temizlenme arzusunu dile getiriyor.

### [U Not Like Me]

 * **Ana Tema:** Otantiklik ve taklitçilik arasındaki keskin ayrım.

 * **Lirik Analizi:** Sanatçı, yaşadığı hayatın gerçekliğini savunduğu bu parçada, sahte olanla gerçek olanı ayırıyor. Kendi yaşadığı acıların ve gördüğü şiddetin, başkalarının sadece şarkı sözlerinde kullandığı birer süs eşyası olmadığını hatırlatıyor.

### [Life's On The Line]

 * **Ana Tema:** Yaşam mücadelesinin ciddiyeti ve hayatta kalma içgüdüsü.

 * **Lirik Analizi:** Albümün kapanışında, hayatın pamuk ipliğine bağlı olduğu gerçeği bir kez daha vurgulanıyor. Sanatçı, yolculuğunun başından sonuna kadar, yaşamın her an "çizgide" olduğunu ve bu çizgide sadece en dayanıklı olanların ayakta kalabileceğini kanıtlayarak kapanışı yapıyor.

### [Wanksta]

 * **Ana Tema:** Sahtekarlık, sokaklarda dürüstlük ve "miş gibi" yapanların eleştirisi.

 * **Lirik Analizi:** Albümün en popüler parçalarından biri olarak, özgün olan ile olmayan arasındaki farkı keskin bir mizah ve sert bir dille ortaya koyuyor. "Wanksta" (sahte gangster) kavramı üzerinden, sokak kültürünün ciddiyetini bozmadan, sadece taklit yapanlara karşı bir duruş sergiliyor.

50 Cent - "Get Rich Or Die Tryin'" Albüm Şarkı Sözleri (2003)

"What Up Gangsta?"

G-Unit (Bo!), we in here (Bo!)

We can get the drama popping, we don't care (Bo! Bo! Bo!)

It's going down (Bo!), 'cause I'm around (Bo!)

50 Cent, you know how I gets down, down

What up, blood? (What?)

What up, cuz? (What?)

What up, blood? (What?)

What up, gangsta?

What up, blood? (What?)

What up, cuz? (What?)

What up, blood? (What?)

What up, gangsta?

They say I walk around like I got a S on my chest

Nah, that's a semi-auto, in a vest on my chest

I try not to say nothing, the DA might want to play in court

But I'll hunt a duck a nigga down like it's a sport

Front on me, I'll cut you, gun-butt you or buck you

You getting money, I can't get none with ya, then fuck ya

I'm not the type to get knocked for D.W.I

I'm the type that'll kill your connect when the coke price rise

Gangstas, they bump my shit, them, they know me

I grew up around some niggas that's not my homies

Hundred G's, I stash it (What?), the MAC, I blast it (Yeah)

D's come, we dump the diesel in battery acid

This flow's been mastered, the ice, I flash it

Jux me, I'll have your mama picking out your casket, bastard

I'm on the next level, Breitling baguette bezel

Benz pedal to the metal, hotter than a tea kettle

Blood (What?)

What up, cuz? (What?)

What up, blood? (What?)

What up, gangsta?

What up, blood? (What?)

What up, cuz? (What?)

What up, blood? (What?)

What up, gangsta?

We don't play that

We don't play that

We don't play that (G-Unit)

We don't play around

I sit back, twist the best bud, burn and wonder

When gangstas bump my shit, can they hear my hunger?

When the fifth kick, duck quick, it sounds like thunder

In December, I'll make your block feel like summer

The rap critics say I can rhyme, the fiends say my dope is a nine

Every chick I fuck with is a dime

I'm like Patti LaBelle, homie, I'm on my own

Where I lay my hat's my home, I'm a rolling stone

Cross my path, I'll crush ya, thinking I won't touch ya

I'll have your ass using a wheelchair, cane, or crutches

Industry hoes fuck us, in the hood, they love us

Stomp a bone out your ass with some brand new Chukkas

What up, blood? (What?)

What up, cuz? (What?)

What up, blood? (What?)

What up, gangsta?

What up, blood? (What?)

What up, cuz? (What?)

What up, blood? (What?)

What up, gangsta?

We don't play that

We don't play that

We don't play that (G-Unit)

We don't play around

We don't play that

We don't play that

We don't play that (G-Unit)

We don't play around

We don't play that

We don't play that

We don't play that (G-Unit)

We don't play around

We don't play that

We don't play that

We don't play that (G-Unit)

We don't play around

☆☆☆☆☆

"Patiently Waiting"

(feat. Eminem)

[50 Cent:]

Hey Em, you know you're my favorite white boy, right?

I owe you for this one

[50 Cent:]

I been patiently waitin' for a track to explode on (Yeah)

You can stunt if you want and yo' ass'll get rolled on (It's 50)

If it feels like my flow's been hot for so long (Yeah)

If you thinkin' I'ma fuckin' fall off, you're so wrong (It's 50)

[50 Cent:]

I'm innocent in my head, like a baby born dead

Destination heaven

Sit and politic with passengers from 9/11 (Yeah)

The Lord's blessings leave me lyrically inclined (Uh-huh)

Shit, I ain't even got to try to shine (Woo)

God's the seamstress that tailor-fitted my pain

I got scriptures in my brain, I could spit at your dame

Straight out the good book, look, niggas is shook

50 fear no man, warrior, swing swords like Conan

Picture me, pen in hand, writin' lines

Knowin' The Source will quote it

When I die, they'll read this and say a genius wrote it

I grew up without my pops, should that make me bitter?

I caught cases, I copped out, does that make me a quitter?

In this white man's world, I'm similar to a squirrel

Lookin' for a slut with a nice butt to get a nut

If I get shot today, my phone'll stop ringin' again

These industry niggas ain't friends, they know how to pretend

[50 Cent:]

I been patiently waitin' for a track to explode on (Yeah)

You can stunt if you want and yo' ass'll get rolled on (It's 50)

If it feels like my flow's been hot for so long (Yeah)

If you thinkin' I'ma fuckin' fall off, you're so wrong (It's 50)

I been patiently waitin' for a track to explode on (Yeah)

You can stunt if you want and yo' ass'll get rolled on (It's 50)

If it feels like my flow's been hot for so long (Yeah)

If you thinkin' I'ma fuckin' fall off, you're so wrong (It's 50)

[Eminem:]

If you're patiently waitin' to make it through all the hatin'

Debatin' whether or not you can even weather the storm

As you lay on the table, they operatin' to save you

It's like an angel came to you, sent from the heavens above

[Eminem:]

They think they're crazy, but they ain't crazy

Let's face it, shit, basically

They're just playin' sick, they ain't shit

They ain't sayin' shit—spray 'em, 50!

A to the K, get in the way, I'll bring Dre and them with me

And turn this day into fuckin' mayhem, you stayin' with me?

Don't let me lose you, I'm not tryna confuse you

When I let loose with this Uzi

And just shoot through your Isuzu

You get the message? Am I gettin' through to you?

You know what's comin'?

You motherfuckers don't even know, do you?

Take some Big and some Pac and you mix 'em up in a pot

Sprinkle a little Big L on top, what the fuck do you got?

You got the realest and illest killers tied up in a knot

The juggernauts of this rap shit, like it or not

It's like a fight to the top just to see who'd die for the spot

You put your life in this, nothin' like survivin' a shot

Y'all know what time it is, soon as 50 signs on this dot

Shit, what you know about death threats, 'cause I get a lot

Shady Records was eighty seconds away from the towers

Some cowards fucked with the wrong building

They meant to hit ours

Better evacuate all children, it's nuclear showers

There's nothin' spookier

You're now about to witness the power of fuckin' 50

[50 Cent:]

I been patiently waitin' for a track to explode on (Yeah)

You can stunt if you want and yo' ass'll get rolled on (It's 50)

If it feels like my flow's been hot for so long (Yeah)

If you thinkin' I'ma fuckin' fall off, you're so wrong (It's 50)

[50 Cent:]

If the gun squad hearin' all the shots go off

It's 50, they say it's 50

See a nigga laid out with his fuckin' top blown off

It's 50—man, that wasn't 50, don't holla my name

[50 Cent:]

Niggas shouldn't throw stones if you live in a glass house

And if you got a glass jaw, you should watch your mouth

'Cause I'll break your face

Have your ass runnin', mumblin' to the jake

You goin' against me, dawg, you makin' a mistake

I'll split ya, leave you lookin' like the Michael Jackson jackets

With all them zippers

I'm the boss on this boat, you can call me skipper

The way I turn the money over, you should call me flipper

Your bitch a regular bitch, you callin' her wifey

I fucked and feed her fast food, you keepin' her icey

I'm down to sell records but not my soul

Snoop said this in '94: "We don't love them hoes"

I got pennies for my thoughts, now I'm rich

See the twenties spinnin' lookin' mean on Mercedes

Niggas wearin' flags 'cause the colors match they clothes

They get caught in the wrong hood

And filled up with holes, motherfucker

[50 Cent:]

I been patiently waitin' for a track to explode on (Yeah)

You can stunt if you want and yo' ass'll get rolled on (It's 50)

If it feels like my flow's been hot for so long (Yeah)

If you thinkin' I'ma fuckin' fall off, you're so wrong (It's 50)

I been patiently waitin' for a track to explode on (Yeah)

You can stunt if you want and yo' ass'll get rolled on (It's 50)

If it feels like my flow's been hot for so long (Yeah)

If you thinkin' I'ma fuckin' fall off, you're so wrong (It's 50)

☆☆☆☆☆

"Many Men (Wish Death)"

(feat. Lloyd Banks)

Damn, you gotta go get somethin' to eat, man

I'm hungrier than a motherfucker, man

Ayo, man

Damn, what's takin' homie so long, son?

50, calm down, man, he coming

Ah (Oh, what the fuck?)

Ah, son, pull off, pull off

Many men wish death upon me

Blood in my eye, dog, and I can't see

I'm tryin' to be what I'm destined to be

And niggas tryin' to take my life away (C'mon)

I put a hole in a nigga for fuckin' with me

My back on the wall, now you gon' see

Better watch how you talk when you talk about me

'Cause I'll come and take your life away

Many men

Many, many, many, many men

Wish death 'pon me

Lord, I don't cry no more

Don't look to the sky no more

Have mercy on me

Now man, these pussy niggas puttin' money on my head

Go on and get your refund, motherfucker, I ain't dead

I'm the diamond in the dirt that ain't been found

I'm the underground king and I ain't been crowned

When I rhyme, somethin' special happened every time

I'm the greatest, somethin' like Ali in his prime

I walk the block with the bundles, I've been knocked on the humble

Swing the ox when I rumble, show your ass what my gun do

Got a temper, nigga, go 'head, lose your head

Turn your back on me, get clapped and lose your legs

I walk around, gun on my waist, chip on my shoulder

'Til I bust a clip in your face, pussy, this beef ain't over

Many men

Many, many, many, many men

Wish death 'pon me

Lord, I don't cry no more

Don't look to the sky no more

Have mercy on me

Have mercy on my soul

Somewhere my heart turned cold

Have mercy on many men

Many, many, many, many men

Wish death 'pon me

Sunny days wouldn't be special if it wasn't for rain

Joy wouldn't feel so good if it wasn't for pain

Death gotta be easy, 'cause life is hard

It'll leave you physically, mentally, and emotionally scarred

This is for my niggas on the block twistin' trees in cigars

For the niggas on lock doin' life behind bars

I don't say, "Only God can judge me," 'cause I see things clear

Crooked-ass crackers will give my Black ass a hundred years

I'm like Paulie in GoodFellas, you can call me the Don

Like Malcolm by any means with my gun in my palm

Slim switched sides on me, let niggas ride on me

I thought we was cool, why you want me to die, homie? (Homie)

Many men

Many, many, many, many men

Wish death 'pon me

Lord, I don't cry no more

Don't look to the sky no more

Have mercy on me

Have mercy on my soul

Somewhere my heart turned cold

Have mercy on many men

Many, many, many, many men

Wish death 'pon me

Every night I talk to God, but he don't say nothin' back

I know he protectin' me, but I still stay with my gat

In my nightmares, niggas keep pullin' TECs on me

Psychic says some bitch done put a hex on me

The feds didn't know much when Pac got shot

I got a kite from the pens that told me Tut got knocked

I ain't gon' spell it out for you motherfuckers all the time

Are you illiterate, nigga? You can't read between the lines?

In the Bible, it says what goes around, comes around

Hommo shot me, three weeks later he got shot down

Now it's clear that I'm here for a real reason

'Cause he got hit like I got hit, but he ain't fuckin' breathin'

Many men

Many, many, many, many men

Wish death 'pon me

Lord, I don't cry no more

Don't look to the sky no more

Have mercy on me

Have mercy on my soul

Somewhere my heart turned cold

Have mercy on many men

Many, many, many, many men

Wish death 'pon me

☆☆☆☆☆

"In Da Club"

Go, go, go, go, go, go

Go shorty, it's your birthday

We gon' party like it's your birthday

And we gon' sip Bacardi like it's your birthday

And you know we don't give a fuck, it's not your birthday

You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub'

Look, mami, I got the X if you're into takin' drugs

I'm into havin' sex, I ain't into makin' love

So come give me a hug if you're into gettin' rubbed

You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub'

Look, mami, I got the X if you're into takin' drugs

I'm into havin' sex, I ain't into makin' love

So come give me a hug if you're into gettin' rubbed

When I pull up out front, you see the Benz on dubs (Uh-huh)

When I roll twenty deep, it's twenty knives in the club (Yeah)

Niggas heard I fuck with Dre, now they wanna show me love

When you sell like Eminem and the hoes, they wanna fuck (Woo)

Look homie, ain't nothin' changed: hoes down, G's up

I see Xzibit in the cut, hey nigga, roll that weed up! (Roll it!)

If you watch how I move, you'll mistake me for a player or pimp

Been hit with a few shells, but I don't walk with a limp (I'm aight)

In the hood in L.A. they sayin', "50, you hot" (Uh-huh)

They like me, I want 'em to love me like they love Pac

But holla in New York, the niggas'll tell you I'm loco (Yeah)

And the plan is to put the rap game in a chokehold (Uh-huh)

I'm fully focused, man, my money on my mind

Got a mil' out the deal and I'm still on the grind (Woo)

Now shorty said she feelin' my style, she feelin' my flow (Uh-huh)

Her girlfriend with her, they bi and they ready to go (Okay)

You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub'

Look, mami, I got the X if you're into takin' drugs

I'm into havin' sex, I ain't into makin' love

So come give me a hug if you're into gettin' rubbed

You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub'

Look, mami, I got the X if you're into takin' drugs

I'm into havin' sex, I ain't into makin' love

So come give me a hug if you're into gettin' rubbed (Rubbed)

My flow, my show brought me the dough

That bought me all my fancy things

My crib, my cars, my clothes, my jewels

Look, nigga, I done came up and I ain't changed (What? What? Yeah)

And you should love it way more than you hate it

Nigga, you mad? I thought that you'd be happy I made it (Woo)

I'm that cat by the bar toastin' to the good life

You that faggot-ass nigga tryin' to pull me back, right?

When my joint get to pumpin' in the club, it's on

I wink my eye at yo' bitch, if she smiles, she gone

If the roof on fire, let the motherfucker burn

If you talkin' about money, homie, I ain't concerned

I'ma tell you what Banks told me:

"Cuz, go 'head, switch the style up

If niggas hate, then let them hate, and watch the money pile up"

Or we can go upside your head with a bottle of bub'

They know where we fuckin' be

You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub'

Look, mami, I got the X if you're into takin' drugs

I'm into havin' sex, I ain't into makin' love

So come give me a hug if you're into gettin' rubbed

You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub'

Look, mami, I got the X if you're into takin' drugs

I'm into havin' sex, I ain't into makin' love

So come give me a hug if you're into gettin' rubbed (Ha-ha-ha-ha)

Don't try to act like you don't know where we be neither, nigga

We in the club all the time, nigga, so pop, pop off, nigga

G-Unit

☆☆☆☆☆

"High All The Time"

Hey, you wanna hit this shit?

It's that green tongue, Cali bud

I don't need Dom Perignon, I don't need Cris

Tanqueray and Alizé, I don't need shit

Nigga, I'm high all the time (I smoke that good shit)

I stay high all the time (Man, I'm on some hood shit)

Give me some dro, purple haze and some chocolate

Give me a dutch and a lighter, I'll spark shit

And stay high all the time (I smoke that good shit)

I'm high all the time (Man, I'm on some hood shit)

Every time I roll up, niggas holler, "Roll up!"

Then I tell 'em hold up, you ain't getting money

You ain't smoking in my Benzo, 20 inch Lorenzos

Smoking on indo, high as a motherfucker

I be on them backstreets, niggas know I clap heat

Only if you got beef, man, you better holler at me

Niggas get locked up, stabbed up, shot up

Every time I pop up, a lot going on in my hood

I shoot the dice, I holler get 'em girls, Daddy need new shoes

Daddy need Pirellis to look mean on 22s

Stash box, Xbox, laptop, fax machine, phone

Bulletproof this bitch and I'm gone

2003 Suburban swerving, too many sips of Henny

The D's sick, they searched the whip and they can't find the semis

They was just harassing me 'cause they know who I was

Spent the night in Central Booking for smoking some bud

I don't need Dom Perignon, I don't need Cris

Tanqueray and Alizé, I don't need shit

Nigga, I'm high all the time (I smoke that good shit)

I stay high all the time (Man, I'm on some hood shit)

Give me some dro, purple haze and some chocolate

Give me a dutch and a lighter, I'll spark shit

And stay high all the time (I smoke that good shit)

I'm high all the time (Man, I'm on some hood shit)

Now if you heard I done started some shit

It ain't because I be high (I be high, I be high)

And if you heard I done let off a clip

It ain't because I be high (I be high, I be high)

But I twist that lye, lye-lye-lye

I get high as I wanna, nigga

Go against me, for sure, you's a goner, nigga

I don't smoke to calm my nerves, but I got beef

Finna crush my enemies like I crush the hashish

If you love me, tell me you love me, don't stare at me, man

I'd hate to be in the pen for clapping one of my fans

Now let me show you how to greet me

When you meet me, when you see me

If you real, my nigga, you know how to holler "G-Unit!"

There's no competition, it's just me

50 Cent, motherfucker, I'm hot on these streets

If David could go against Goliath with a stone

I could go at Nas and Jigga, both for the throne

I don't need Dom Perignon, I don't need Cris

Tanqueray and Alizé, I don't need shit

Nigga, I'm high all the time (I smoke that good shit)

I stay high all the time (Man, I'm on some hood shit)

Give me some dro, purple haze and some chocolate

Give me a dutch and a lighter, I'll spark shit

And stay high all the time (I smoke that good shit)

I'm high all the time (Man, I'm on some hood shit)

Now, who you know besides me

Who write lines and squeeze nines

And have hoes in the hood sniffing on white lines?

You don't want me to be your kid's role model

I'll teach them how to buck them .380s and load up them hollows

Have shorty fresh off the stoop, ready to shoot

Big blunt in his mouth, deuce-deuce in his boot

Sit in the crib sipping Guinness watching Menace, then oh Lord

Have a young nigga bucking shit like he O-Dog

My team, they depend on me when it's crunch time

I eat a nigga food in broad day like it's lunchtime

You feeling brave, nigga? Go ahead, get gully

See if I won't leave your brains leaking up out your skully

I done made myself hot, so ain't shit you can tell me

Now niggas calling me to feature, man, fuck your money

I ain't hurting, I'm aight, nigga, I'm doing good

I ain't got to write rhymes, I got bricks in the hood

I don't need Dom Perignon, I don't need Cris

Tanqueray and Alizé, I don't need shit

Nigga, I'm high all the time (I smoke that good shit)

I stay high all the time (Man, I'm on some hood shit)

Give me some dro, purple haze and some chocolate

Give me a dutch and a lighter, I'll spark shit

And stay high all the time (I smoke that good shit)

I'm high all the time (Man, I'm on some hood shit)

G-Unit, are you ready? G-Unit, are you ready?

G-Unit, are you ready?

Nigga, ready or not, here I come, come, come

☆☆☆☆☆

"Heat"

Aye, you want some of this shit?

Naw, I don't want that shit

I don't give a fuck. I don't play that shit, and I'm finna' buss a cap in a nigga

Man, shut the fuck up! Whoa! Slow down, slow down, slow down! You see that brick house right there? That's the nigga's crib. When he come out you gotta tighten his ass up. Imma get in the other car. Aight

If there's beef cock it and dump it

The drama really means nothing to me

I'll ride by and blow ya brains out

There's no time to cock it, no way you can stop it

When niggas run up on you with them thangs out

I do what I gotta do, I don't care I if get caught

The DA can play this motherfucking tape in court

I'll kill you

I ain't playing, hear what I'm saying, homie, I ain't playing

Catch you slipping I'ma kill you

I ain't playing, hear what I'm saying, homie I ain't playing

Keep thinking I'm candy 'til ya fucking skull get popped

And ya brain hop out the top like Jack-in-the-box

In the hood summer time is the killing season

It's hot out this bitch, that's a good enough reason

I've seen gangstas get religious when they start bleeding

Saying "Lord, Jesus help me" 'cause they ass leaking

When they window roll down and that A.K. come out

You can squeeze ya little handgun 'til you run out

And you can run for ya backup

But them machine gun shells gon tear ya back up

God's on ya side? Shit, I'm aight with that

'Cause we gon' reload them clips and come right back

It's a fact, homie, you go against me ya fucked

I get the drop, if you can duck ya luckier than Lady Luck

Look, nigga, don't think you safe 'cause you moved out the hood

'Cause ya mama still around, dawg, and that ain't good

If you was smart you'd be shook of me

'Cause I get tired of looking for ya

Spray ya mama crib and let yo ass look for me

If there's beef cock it and dump it

The drama really means nothing to me

I'll ride by and blow ya brains out

There's no time to cock it, no way you can stop it

When niggas run up on you with them thangs out

I do what I gotta do, I don't care I if get caught

The DA can play this motherfucking tape in court

I'll kill you

I ain't playing, hear what I'm saying, homie, I ain't playing

Catch you slipping I'ma kill you

I ain't playing, hear what I'm saying, homie I ain't playing

My heart bleeds for you, nigga, I can't wait to get to you

Behind that twinkle in ya eyes, I can see the bitch in you

Nigga, you know the streets talk

So they'll be no white flags and no peace talks

I got my back against the wind

I'm down to ride 'till the sun burn out

If I die today I'm happy how my life turned out

See the shootouts, I done been in 'em by myself

Locked up I was in a box by myself

I done made myself a millionaire by myself

Now shit changed, motherfucker, I can hire some help

I done heard about the 50 grand you put in the hood

But ya shooter finna get shot, it won't do him no good

With a pistol I define the definition of pain

If you survive ya bones'll still fucking hurt when it rains

Oh, you a pro at playing Battleship? Well, this ain't the same

Little homie this is a whole different type of war game

See the losers end up in shackles and motherfucking chains

Or laid out in the streets leaking out they brains

If there's beef cock it and dump it

The drama really means nothing to me

I'll ride by and blow ya brains out

There's no time to cock it, no way you can stop it

When niggas run up on you with them thangs out

I do what I gotta do, I don't care I if get caught

The DA can play this motherfucking tape in court

I'll kill you

I ain't playing, hear what I'm saying, homie, I ain't playing

Catch you slipping I'ma kill you

I ain't playing, hear what I'm saying, homie I ain't playing

After the fist fights it's gunfire, boy, you get the best of me (best of me)

If you don't wanna get shot, I suggest you don't go testing me (testing me)

All the wrong I've done, the Lord still keep on blessing me (blessing me)

Finna run rap 'cause Dr. Dre got the recipe (recipe, recipe)

Yeah, ha ha, aye Dre

You got me feeling real bulletproof up in this motherfucker

'Cause the windows on my motherfucking Benz is bulletproof, nigga

'Cause my motherfucking vest is bulletproof, nigga

'Cause my motherfucking hat is bulletproof, nigga

But the Doc said if I get hit, I might get a fucking concussion

But better that than a hole in the head right, nigga? Ha ha ha ha

☆☆☆☆☆

"If I Can't"

[50 Cent:]

If I can't do it, homie, it can't be done

Now I'ma let the champagne bottle pop

I'ma take it to the top

For sure, I'ma make it hot, baby (Baby)

[50 Cent:]

I apply pressure to pussies, they stunt and I pop (Yeah)

Stand alone squeezing my pistol, I'm sure that I got 'em (Uh-huh)

Now, Peter Piper picked peppers, and Run rocked rhymes

I'm 50 Cent, I write a little bit, but I pop nines (Brrat!)

Tell niggas, get they money right, 'cause I got mine (Uh-huh)

And I'm around, quit playing, nigga, you can't shine (Woo)

You gon' be that next chump to end up in the trunk

After being hit by the pump—is that what you want?

Be easy, nigga—I'll lay your ass out

Believe me, nigga—that's what I'm about

Gangsta! You could find a nigga sitting on chrome

Hit the clutch, hit the gear, hit the gas and I'm gone (Yeah)

[50 Cent:]

If I can't do it, homie, it can't be done

Now, I'ma let the champagne bottle pop

I'ma take it to the top

For sure, I'ma make it hot, baby (Baby)

[50 Cent and Dr. Dre:]

I'm down for the action, he smart with his mouth, so smack him (Woo)

You holding a strap, he might come back, so clap him (Yeah)

React like a gangsta, or die like a gangsta for acting (C'mon)

'Cause you'll get hit and homicide'll be asking, "What happened?"

Oh no, look who crept in with the .44

Twenty-inch rims sitting on low-pros (Uh-huh)

Eastside, Westside, niggas know, yo, I'm loco (Yeah)

Even my mama said something really wrong with my brain

Niggas don't rob me, they know I'm down to die for my chain

G-Unit! (Yeah) We get it popping in the hood

G-Unit! (Yeah) Motherfucker, what's good?

I'm waiting on niggas to act like they don't know how to act (Uh-huh)

I had a sip of too much Jack, I'll blow 'em off the map

With the MAC, thinking it's all rap

'Til that ass get clapped and Doc say, "It's a wrap"

It's a wrap, nigga

[50 Cent:]

If I can't do it, homie, it can't be done

Now, I'ma let the champagne bottle pop (Uh-huh)

I'ma take it to the top

For sure, I'ma make it hot, baby (Baby)

[50 Cent:]

I invented how to teach lessons to slow learners

Go 'head, act up, get smacked in the head with the burner (Ahh)

I don't fight fair, I'm dirty, dirty

I'm from Southside Jamaica, Queens, nigga, you heard me? (Yeah)

When streetlights come on, niggas blast the nines (Uh-huh)

Get locked up, they read books to pass the time (Woo)

In the game there's ups and downs, so I stay on the grind

Niggas on my dick more than my bitch, I stay on they mind

There ain't nothing they could do to stop my shine (Unh-uh)

This is God's plan, homie, this ain't mine

I played the music loud so Grandpa called me a nuisance

And Grandma always gotta throw in her two cents

I'm the dropout who made more money than his teachers

Roofless like the Coupe, but I come with more features

I am what I am; you can like it or love it

It feels good to blow 50 grand and think nothing of it, fuck it!

[50 Cent:]

If I can't do it, homie, it can't be done

Now I'ma let the champagne bottle pop

I'ma take it to the top

For sure, I'ma make it hot, baby (Baby)

If I can't do it, homie, it can't be done (Haha)

Now I'ma let the champagne bottle pop

I'ma take it to the top (Yeah)

For sure I'ma make it hot, baby (Baby)

[50 Cent:]

Uh-huh

I'ma make it hot

Dr. Dre

Aftermath

Shady

Haha

☆☆☆☆☆

"Blood Hound"

(feat. Young Buck (G-Unit))

[50 Cent:]

G-Unit, UTP

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha

G-Unit, UTP, G-Unit, UTP

G-Unit, UTP, 50 Cent

Get 'em Buck, man (Rrrrr, hoo!)

[50 Cent:]

50 Cent, that's my name, man I ain't fucking playing

I move on you with that Mac, mane

Come off that watch and chain 'fore I blow out your brains

Shells hit your chest, go out your back, mane

See me I put in work, man, I been doing dirt for so long

Then niggas get laid out

Niggas run through my crib to holla at the kid

That's when I start bringing them thangs out

Then we go through the strip hanging up out the whip

Dumping clips off at their whole clique, mane

When witnesses around they know how we get down

So when the cops come they ain't see shit, mane

My soldiers slanging 'caine, sunny, snowy, sleet or rain

Come through the hood and you can cop that

I'm sittin' on some change, G-Unit that's the gang

Come through here stunting you get popped at

[50 Cent:]

I love to pump crack, love to stay strapped

Love to squeeze gats, but you don't hear me though

I love to hit the block, I love my two Glocks

Love to bust shots, but you don't hear me though

I love to pump crack, love to stay strapped

Love to squeeze gats, but you don't hear me though

I love to hit the block, I love my two Glocks

Love to bust shots, but you don't hear me though

[Young Buck:]

I came in this game knowing niggas gon' hate me

Just for the simple fact they know that I'm a rider

I got a hell of a aim, I keep on telling you, mane

I swear ain't nobody gon' find ya

When I get lifted I'm tempted to tear your block up

Your niggas can't run 'cause I'm behind ya

Me and Chili in your city with a couple nine-milli's

You better stay in line, bro

'Cause if I walk it I'll talk it, you know we'll walk up and pop it

I love the sound of gunfire, bro

Right now we smacking 'em with platinum and they hate it

'Cause we made it, that's what we keep that iron for

I represent it 'cause I'm in it

UTP until I'm finished, Juvenile, they can't stop us

And I admit it, I live it

I'll knock a baller off his pivot with this motherfucking chopper

[50 Cent:]

I love to pump crack, love to stay strapped

Love to squeeze gats, but you don't hear me though

I love to hit the block, I love my two Glocks

Love to bust shots, but you don't hear me though

I love to pump crack, love to stay strapped

Love to squeeze gats, but you don't hear me though

I love to hit the block, I love my two Glocks

Love to bust shots, but you don't hear me though

[50 Cent:]

My twenty-inches spinning, you always see me grinning

And you hear niggas call me grimy

They hit me with them bricks and I ain't pay 'em shit

I'm outta town, they can't find me

When I come back around, man, I'ma back 'em down

I run up busting that TEC, mane

If you ain't got a gun and you can't fucking run

My advice is you hit the deck, mane

But if you get away and come back another day

My soldiers'll leave you wet, mane

'Cause we know where you be and we know where you stay

And we'll come checking through your set, mane

Man, you heard what I said, now get it in your head

I ain't paying no fucking debt, mane

'Cause you's a middle man, what don't you understand?

You's a fucking fake ass connect, mane

[50 Cent:]

I love to pump crack, love to stay strapped

Love to squeeze gats, but you don't hear me though

I love to hit the block, I love my two Glocks

Love to bust shots, but you don't hear me though

I love to pump crack, love to stay strapped

Love to squeeze gats, but you don't hear me though

I love to hit the block, I love my two Glocks

Love to bust shots, but you don't hear me though

☆☆☆☆☆

"Back Down"

Woo!

Yeah

G-G-G-G-G-Unit (G-Unit)

Ha ha

It's easy to see when you look at me

If you look closely 50 don't back down

Everywhere I go both coasts with toast

Eastside, Westside, I hold that mack down

Every little nigga you see around me

Hold a gun big enough to fucking hold Shaq down

Next time you in the hood and see an O.G

You ask about me, the young boy don't back down

Any living thing that cannot co-exist with the kid

Must cease existing, little nigga, now listen

Your mami, your papi, that bitch you chasin'

Your little dirty ass kids, I'll fucking erase them

Your success is not enough, you wanna be hard

Knowing that you get knocked you get fucked in the yard

You's a Pop Tart, sweetheart, you soft in the middle

I eat ya for breakfast, the watch was an exchange for your necklace

And your boss is a bitch, if he could he would

Sell his soul for cheap, trade his life to be Suge

You can buy cars, but you can't buy respect in the hood

Maybe I'm so disrespectful cause to me you're a mystery

I know niggas from ya hood, you have no history

Never poked nothing, never popped nothing, nigga stop fronting

Jay put you on, X made you hot

Now you run around like you some big shot

Ha ha, pussy

It's easy to see when you look at me

If you look closely 50 don't back down

Everywhere I go both coasts with toast

Eastside, Westside, I hold that mack down

Every little nigga you see around me

Hold a gun big enough to fucking hold Shaq down

Next time you in the hood and see an O.G

You ask about me, the young boy don't back down

"The rap game is all fucked up now, what are we gonna do now?

How we gonna eat man? 50 back around"

That's Ja's little punk ass thinking out loud

Southside 'til I die, that's just how I get down

I'm back in the game, shawty, to rule and conquer

You sing for hoes and sound like the cookie monster

I'm the hardest from New York, my flow is bonkers

All the other hard niggas they come from Yonkers

It's been years and you had the same niggas in the background

You never gonna sell Mitsubishi Tah, Crack Child

Them niggas dead, they just suck, they no good

I ain't never heard a nigga say they like them in the hood

I'm back better than ever on top of my game

Even them country boys saying "50 we feeling you, mane"

Now you stay the fuck outta my zone, outta my throne

I'm New York City's own bad guy

It's easy to see when you look at me

If you look closely 50 don't back down

Everywhere I go both coasts with toast

Eastside, Westside, I hold that mack down

Every little nigga you see around me

Hold a gun big enough to fucking hold Shaq down

Next time you in the hood and see an O.G

You ask about me, the young boy don't back down

I ain't gonna' tell nobody you pussy

I ain't gonna' tell nobody you getting extorted

I've been patiently waiting to blow

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to "The 50 Cent Show"

This is my life, my pain, my knife, my gun

Now that I'm back, you can't sleep, I'm a nightmare, huh?

You hired cops to hold you down cause you fear for your life

But you heard about them guns I done bought, right?

I ain't going nowhere, I done told you, nigga

I'm a G-Unit motherfucking soldier, nigga

(They not gon' like you)

I know, I know

Oh no, he didn't say anything about Ja

Okay? Ja is my boo, okay? Jeffrey Atkins ain't never hurt nobody

And y'all know big thangs come in small packages, holla

Now everythang was cool until 50 Cent came back into the picture

They better not put their hands on Jeffrey

Okay, just first of all, they do not know that I am a 12 degree pink belt

Okay, I will dice his ass up like a little piece of celery

Okay, cause see, they don't know me, Delicious, do they know me?

Okay, I thought so

Cause you know that I know karate, and I will see him

And I will Jet Li his ass, hitaaaah!

☆☆☆☆☆

"P.I.M.P."

I don't know what you heard about me

But a bitch can't get a dollar out of me

No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see

That I'm a motherfuckin' P-I-M-P

I don't know what you heard about me

But a bitch can't get a dollar out of me

No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see

That I'm a motherfuckin' P-I-M-P (Now, Shorty)

Now, Shorty, she in the club, she dancin' for dollars

She got a thing for that Gucci, that Fendi, that Prada

That BCBG, Burberry, Dolce & Gabbana

She feed them foolish fantasies, they pay her, 'cause they want her

I spit a little G, man, and my game got her

A hour later have that ass up in the Ramada

Them trick niggas in her ear sayin' they think about her

I got the bitch by the bar tryin' to get a drink up out her

She like my style, she like my smile, she like the way I talk

She from the country, think she like me 'cause I'm from New York

I ain't that nigga tryna holla 'cause I want some head

I'm that nigga tryna holla 'cause I want some bread

I could care less how she perform when she in the bed

Bitch, hit that track, catch a date, and come and pay the kid

Look, baby, this is simple, you can't see

You fuckin' with me, you fuckin' with a P-I-M-P (P!)

I don't know what you heard about me (Woo!)

But a bitch can't get a dollar out of me (Me)

No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see

That I'm a motherfuckin' P-I-M-P

I don't know what you heard about me

But a bitch can't get a dollar out of me

No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see

That I'm a motherfuckin' P-I-M-P

I'm 'bout my money, you see, girl, you can holla at me

If you fuckin' with me, I'm a P-I-M-P

Not what you see on TV, no Cadillac, no greasy

Head full of hair, bitch, I'm a P-I-M-P

Come get money with me if you curious to see

How it feels to be with a P-I-M-P

Roll in the Benz with me, you could watch some TV

From the backseat of my V, I'm a P-I-M-P

Girl, we could pop some Champagne and we could have a ball

We could toast to the good life, girl, we could have it all

We could really splurge, girl, and tear up the mall

If ever you needed someone, I'm the one you should call

I'll be there to pick you up if ever you should fall

If you got problems, I can solve 'em, they big or they small

That other nigga you be with ain't 'bout shit

I'm your friend, your father, and confidant, bitch

I don't know what you heard about me

But a bitch can't get a dollar out of me

No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see

That I'm a motherfuckin' P-I-M-P

I don't know what you heard about me

But a bitch can't get a dollar out of me

No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see

That I'm a motherfuckin' P-I-M-P (Now, Shorty)

I told you fools before, I stay with the tools

I keep a Benz, some rims, and some jewels

I holla at a ho 'til I got a bitch confused

She got on Payless; me? I got on gator shoes

I'm shoppin' for chinchillas in the summer, they cheaper

Man, this ho, you can have her, when I'm done I ain't gon' keep her

Man, bitches come and go, every nigga pimpin' know

This ain't no secret, you ain't gotta keep it on the low

Bitch, choose on me, I'll have you strippin' in the street

Put my other hoes down, you get your ass beat

Now Niki my bottom bitch, she always come up with my bread

The last nigga she was with put stitches in her head

Get your ho out of pocket, I'll put a charge on a bitch

'Cause I need four TVs and AMGs for the six

Ho, make a pimp rich, I ain't payin', bitch

Catch a date, suck a dick, shit, trick

I don't know what you heard about me (Yeah)

But a bitch can't get a dollar out of me (Woo!)

No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see (Huh-uh)

That I'm a motherfuckin' P-I-M-P

I don't know what you heard about me (Huh-uh)

But a bitch can't get a dollar out of me (Yeah)

No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see

That I'm a motherfuckin' P-I-M-P

Yeah, in Hollywood they say, "There's no b'ness like show b'ness"

In the hood they say, "There's no b'ness like ho b'ness", you know?

They say I talk a little fast, but if you listen a little faster

I ain't got to slow down for you to catch up, bitch

Ha-ha-ha, yeah

☆☆☆☆☆

"Like My Style"

(feat. Tony Yayo (G-Unit))

[50 Cent:]

I know you like my style

You like how I break it down

I know you like style

You like how I break it down

I know you like my style

You like how I break it down

Wanna get rich? I'll show you how

Wanna get rich? I'll show you how

[50 Cent and Tony Yayo:]

On ya mark, get set, let's go, switch the flow

Teach ya how to turn Yayo into dough

The original don dada, nobody bomb harder

Ya heard what I said boy, I'm hot, I'm hot

The hoodrats they say "He so crazy"

The snitches they say "He tried to spray me"

But that's what you get for trying to play me

The aftermath and my wrath is so shady

No matter how you try, you can't stop this

I catch ya stunting in the Bentley Coupé cockpit

If you a pimp why ya hoes stay outta pocket?

Front and find out how my P-40 Glock hit

"50, you need some help?" Chill, Yayo, I got this

See, where I'm from, man, the D's tryin' to knock us

They swear to God that it's me selling the choppers

Man, I ain't give them little niggas no product

[50 Cent:]

I know you like my style

But how much do you like my style?

You like how I break it down

Wanna get rich? I'll show you how

I know you like my style

But how much do you like my style?

You like how I break it down

Wanna get rich? I'll show you how

[50 Cent:]

The birds they say I got a way with words

I be like "baby girl, I like them curves"

If ya not busy tonight then we can swerve

I'm a bachelor, baby, fuck what you heard

[50 Cent:]

From the tellie in ten minutes I'll make you a believer

Tongue touch ya, I'll have ya shakin' like you havin' a seizure

I make hits about what I do in my leisure

G-Unit gang, can't another clique out there see us

Niggas lip sync the lyrics 'cause they wanna be us

Groupie hoes from the hood, they be trying to G us

Trying to holla at the kid every time they see us

Girlfriend quit pretending, I'm the nigga ya love

And I ain't got to say nothing, you know that I'm thugging

Put my hands on that ass and ya say that I'm bugging

We family, baby, kissing cousins

Now look what the riff raff done drug in

For the cheese my degrees is hotter then ya oven

I'm a New Yorker, but I sound Southern

And we sip DP 'til the Don stop bubblin'

After we play, ok, go to ya husband

[50 Cent:]

I know you like my style

But how much do you like my style?

You like how I break it down

Wanna get rich? I'll show you how

I know you like my style

But how much do you like my style?

You like how I break it down

Wanna get rich? I'll show you how

[50 Cent:]

Em said you gon' like my style

Dre said you gon' like my style

I said you gon' like my style

You will like how I break it down

[50 Cent and Tony Yayo:]

You're not really, really ready, ready

The drama will have ya ass in trauma, boy

You're not really, really ready, ready

My knife flip open and then I gets to poking

You're not really, really ready, ready

Them shells start popping and bodies get to dropping

You're not really, really ready

You think you're ready? You're not

Really, really ready, ready

☆☆☆☆☆

"Poor Lil Rich"

I let my watch talk for me, my whip talk for me

My gat talk for me, blow, what up, homie?

My watch saying "Hi shorty, we can be friends"

My whip saying "Quit playing, bitch, get in"

My earring saying "We can hit the mall together"

Shorty, it's only right that we ball together

I'm into bigger things, y'all niggas, y'all know my style

Your wrist "bling bling", my shit "bling blaow"

My pinky ring talk, it say "Fifty, I'm sick"

That's why these niggas is on my dick

Some hate me, some love my hits

Flex my man, he gon' bump my shit

See, I'm a liar, man, I really don't care (I don't care)

I tell the hoes whatever they wanna hear

You tryna play me, I'ma blaze you then

My cross cost more than the crib your mamma raised you in

I was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga

Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit, nigga

You can find me in the four-dot-six, nigga

In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga

Was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga

Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit, nigga

You can find me in the four-six, nigga

In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga

New York niggas copy niggas like it's all good

Fuck around, be Crip-walking in the wrong hood

I'm fresh up out the slammer, I ain't no fucking bammer

I'm from NY whoadie, but I know country grammar (Woo)

See, me, I get it crunk, niggas go head and front

I go up out the trunk, come back, roll out, I'm done (Yeah)

My money come in lumps, my pockets got the mumps

You see me sitting on dubs, that's why you mad, chump (Uh-huh)

Don't make me hit you up, these shells will split you up

I lay you down, the coroners will come and get you up

See, 50 play for keeps, and 50 stay with heat

I can't go commercial, they love me in the street

I'm real gutter, man; the hood love me, man

Don't make me show up in your crib like bruh-man

Locked up in a pen, I still do my thing

CO screaming, "Shut the fuck up!" in the bing

I was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga

Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit, nigga

You can find me in the four-dot-six, nigga

In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga

Was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga

Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit, nigga

You can find me in the four-six, nigga

In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga

I'm in the Benz on Monday, a BM on Tuesday

Range Rov' Wednesday; Thursday, I'm in the hooptay

Porsche on Friday, I do things my way

Vipe or Vette, I tear up the highway (Woo!)

Shawty'll tell you I'm 'bout my dick game (Yeah)

But she don't know me, she only know my nickname

Left the hood and came back, damn, shit changed

These young boys, they done got they own work, man

I was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga

Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit, nigga

You can find me in the four-dot-six, nigga

In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga

Was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga

Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit, nigga

You can find me in the four-six, nigga

In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga

☆☆☆☆☆

"21 Questions"

(feat. Nate Dogg)

[50 Cent:]

New York City

You are now rockin'

With 50 Cent

You gotta love it

[50 Cent:]

I just wanna chill and twist the lye

Catch stunts in my 7-45

You drive me crazy, shorty, I

Need to see you and feel you next to me

I provide everything you need, and I

Like your smile, I don't want to see you cry

Got some questions that I got to ask

And I hope you can come up with the answers, babe

[Nate Dogg:]

Girl, it's easy to love me now

Would you love me if I was down and out?

Would you still have love for me?

Girl, it's easy to love me now

Would you love me if I was down and out?

Would you still have love for me?

[50 Cent:]

If I fell off tomorrow, would you still love me?

If I didn't smell so good, would you still hug me?

If I got locked up and sentenced to a quarter century

Could I count on you to be there to support me mentally?

If I went back to a hooptie from a Benz

Would you poof and disappear like some of my friends?

If I was hit and I was hurt, would you be by my side?

If it was time to put in work, would you be down to ride?

I get out and peel a nigga cap, chill and drive

I'm askin' questions to find out how you feel inside

If I ain't rap 'cause I flip burgers at Burger King

Would you be ashamed to tell your friends you're feelin' me?

In the bed, if I used my tongue, would you like that?

If I wrote you a love letter, would you write back?

Now we can have a little drink, you know, a nightcap

And we could go do what you like, I know you like that

[Nate Dogg:]

Girl, it's easy to love me now

Would you love me if I was down and out?

Would you still have love for me?

Girl, it's easy to love me now

Would you love me if I was down and out?

Would you still have love for me?

[50 Cent:]

Now would you leave me if your father found out I was thuggin'?

Do you believe me when I tell you, you the one I'm lovin'?

Are you mad 'cause I'm askin' you 21 questions?

Are you my soulmate? 'Cause if so, girl, you a blessing

Do you trust me enough to tell me your dreams?

I'm starin' at you, tryna figure how you got in them jeans

If I was down, would you say things to make me smile?

I'll treat you how you want to be treated, just teach me how

If I was with some other chick and someone happened to see

And when you asked me about it I said it wasn't me

Would you believe me? Or up and leave me?

How deep is our bond if that's all it takes for you to be gone?

We only humans, girl, we make mistakes

To make it up, I'll do whatever it take

I love you like a fat kid love cake

You know my style, I say anything to make you smile

[Nate Dogg:]

Girl, it's easy to love me now

Would you love me if I was down and out?

Would you still have love for me?

Girl, it's easy to love me now

Would you love me if I was down and out?

Would you still have love for me?

[Nate Dogg:]

Could you love me in a Bentley?

Could you love me on a bus?

I'll ask 21 questions and they all about us

Could you love me in a Bentley?

Could you love me on a bus?

I'll ask 21 questions and they all about us

☆☆☆☆☆

"Don't Push Me"

(feat. Lloyd Banks, Eminem)

[50 Cent:]

I need you to pray for me and

I need you to care for me and

I need you to want me to win

I need to know where I'm heading 'cause I know where I've been

The flow is bone crushing, it's nothing, I come up with something

Come through your strip fronting, stunting

It's something you want, 745 chrome spinners

Haters hate that I'm winning

Man, I've been hot from the beginning

Motherfuckers envy the kid, control your jealousy

'Cause I can't control my temper, I'm finna catch a felony

Pistol in hand, homie, I'm down to get it popping

Once I squeeze the first shot you know I ain't stopping

'Till my clip is empty, I'm simply

Not that nigga you should try your luck with or fuck with

Hollow-tip shells struck you with your bones broken, guns smoking, still locing

What nigga, lay your ass down, paramedics get you up feeling

[50 Cent:]

Right now I'm on the edge so don't push me

I aim straight for your head so don't push me

Fill your ass up with lead, so don't push me

I got something for your ass, keep thinking I'm pussy

Right now I'm on the edge so don't push me

I aim straight for your head so don't push me

Fill your ass up with lead, so don't push me

I got something for your ass, keep thinking I'm pussy

[Lloyd Banks:]

I done lost my bigger nigga and I didn't cry

Too young to understand the consequences of a man

Living a lie, I gotta get that money

I'll be damned if I'm bummy

Gotta watch my back around these niggas cause they funny

20 years of watching my mama's tears got me heated, heavily weeded

Smoking that bong cause I need it

These niggas don't want me balling, they want me buried

Bogged in the dirt from shots flurried

Laying with bugs under my shirt

I got plans to hop up in that Hummer

Cause I'm a stunner, I sit back and wonder

When them angels gonna call my number

Under my chest is a heart of a lion

I ain't lying, bounty hunters got me flying

With my iron, high as a giant

I'm running from nothing, my stomach is touching what I'm clutching

To give you more than a concussion, end of discussion

My blood is colder so I'm bolder

Hennessy and soda, hood on my shoulder

Look in the mirror, I see a soldier

[50 Cent:]

Right now I'm on the edge so don't push me

I aim straight for your head so don't push me

Fill your ass up with lead, so don't push me

I got something for your ass, keep thinking I'm pussy

Right now I'm on the edge so don't push me

I aim straight for your head so don't push me

Fill your ass up with lead, so don't push me

I got something for your ass, keep thinking I'm pussy

[Eminem:]

These are my ideas, this is my sweat and tears

This is shit that I saw with my eyeballs, my ears

This is me, who's gotta be what you see on TV

What you hear on CD, what appears easy

Man these teenie boppers see me on these magazine covers

In these beanies and these rags living fantasies

Fronting like it's all fun and games 'til the shoot 'em up bang

And you see your brains hang and you see we ain't playing

Ain't saying we ain't laying down at night and ain't praying

I bullied my way in this game, man, I'm done playing

Man, I'm done saying that I'm done playing

I'mma start laying into these motherfucking cocksuckers

There's no way I'ma back down like a god damn coward

I can't, how would I look as a man bowing to his knees?

Like the mad cow disease, let somebody lash out at me

And not lash back out at 'em, please

Oh, whoa, yo, ho, hold up, oh no, not me, not Marshall

You wanna see Marshall? I'll show you martial

I try to show you art, but you just pick it apart

So I see I have to start, showing you fucking old farts

A whole other side I wanted to not show you

So you know you're not dealing with some fucking marshmallow

Little soft yellow, punk pussy, whose heart's Jell-O 'cause

[50 Cent:]

Right now I'm on the edge so don't push me

I aim straight for your head so don't push me

Fill your ass up with lead, so don't push me

I got something for your ass, keep thinking I'm pussy

Right now I'm on the edge so don't push me

I aim straight for your head so don't push me

Fill your ass up with lead, so don't push me

I got something for your ass, keep thinking I'm pussy

[Tony Yayo:]

Shady Aftermath, nigga, G-Unit

Rap juggernauts of this shit, we taking over

☆☆☆☆☆

"Gotta Make It To Heaven"

I gotta make it to Heaven for going through Hell

I gotta make it to Heaven, I gotta make it to Heaven

I gotta make it to Heaven for going through Hell

I gotta make it to Heaven, I hope I make it to Heaven

Some say I'm paranoid, I say I'm careful how I choose my friends

I been to ICU once, I ain't going again

First Z got murked then Roy got murked

And homie still in the hood, why he ain't getting hurt?

I smell something fishy, man, it might be a rat

Damn, niggas switching sides on niggas just like that

You know me, I stay with a bitch on her knees

And give guns away in the hood like it's government cheese

Spray off Suzuki's, eleven hundred cc's

No plate on the back, straight squeezing the MAC

In the hood they identify niggas by their cars

So I switch up whips to stay off the radar

I ain't gotta be around to make shit hot

I'll send Yayo to dump 30 shots on your block

You should spray that TEC, nigga, if I say get it done

I'll make you wet niggas if you 'round me son

I gotta make it to Heaven for going through Hell

I gotta make it to Heaven, I gotta make it to Heaven

I gotta make it to Heaven for going through Hell

I gotta make it to Heaven, I hope I make it to Heaven

When I come through the hood, I don't stop to rap to niggas

Get close enough to smack then I'll clap ya nigga

Pop tried to front so I waved the chrome on his ass

Point blank range I spazzed, pulled a bone on his ass

Two weeks later niggas came through with MACs to lay me down

They sprayed, I played dead and got the fuck off the ground

Out the blue I get a phone call: "Fifty what up?"

"They sent a bitch at me, I sent the bitch back cut up"

I don't play that pussy shit, I done told you, boy

Front on me you gon' meet one of my soldiers, boy

Cousin Twin shot up his mamma crib, now he in jail

Tripping off flicks of Blu Cantrell, pussy, and black tail

Pop mama moved, but she don't talk to him no mo'

The shells from Twin's fo'-fo' blew the hinge off her door

Without that check every month how she going to pay for the crib?

Man, social service finna come and take them kids

I gotta make it to Heaven for going through Hell

I gotta make it to Heaven, I gotta make it to Heaven

I gotta make it to Heaven for going through Hell

I gotta make it to Heaven, I hope I make it to Heaven

Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change

The courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference

In AA they make you say that

That's the prayer they burn in your head when you in CASAT

Man, I might talk to you while we up in them pens

But when we come home that don't mean we going to fucking be friends

The shells pass your head close enough to hear them whistle

Thank God they missed you and go grab your pistol

In the hood niggas running 'round acting crazy

Buying little Air Jordans for maybe babies

See it might be his and it might be yours

Because them broads in the projects is straight up whores

Man, it don't take much for you to get in them drawers

You can have them on their back or on all fours

You ain't got to tell me, you feeling this shit

Because I hear what I'm saying, I know I'm killing this shit

I gotta make it to Heaven for going through Hell

I gotta make it to Heaven, I gotta make it to Heaven

I gotta make it to Heaven for going through Hell

I gotta make it to Heaven, I hope I make it to Heaven

I gotta make it to Heaven for going through Hell

I gotta make it to Heaven, I gotta make it to Heaven

I gotta make it to Heaven for going through Hell

I gotta make it to Heaven, I hope I make it to Heaven

☆☆☆☆☆

"U Not Like Me"

NYPD, LAPD, NYPD (When it's on that's who you get, huh?)

NYPD, LAPD, NYPD (That's your motherfucking clique, huh?)

NYPD, LAPD, NYPD (You a motherfucking snitch, huh?)

NYPD, LAPD, NYPD

These niggas wanna shine like me (Me)

Rhyme like me (Me)

They don't walk around with a 9 like me (Me)

They don't want to do it 3 to 9 like me

And ain't strong enough to take 9 like me

Ayo, you think about shittin' on fifty, save it

My songs belong in the Bible with King David's

I teach niggas sign language, that ain't deaf, son

You heard that? That mean run

Ask around, I ain't the one you wanna stunt on, pa

Pull through, I throw a fucking cocktail at ya car

From the last shootout I got a dimple on my face

It's nothing, I can go after Mase's fan base

Shell hit my jaw, I ain't wait for doctor to get it out

Hit my wisdom tooth spit it out

I don't smile a lot 'cause ain't nothin' pretty

Got a purple heart for war and I ain't never left the city

Hoes be like "Fiddy, you so witty"

On the dick like they heard I ghostwrite for P. Diddy

You got fat while we starve, it's my turn

I done felt how the shells burn, I still won't learn

Won't learn

If you get shot and run to the cops, you not like me

You ain't got no work on the block, you not like me

It's hot, you ain't got no drop, you not like me

Like me, dude, you not like me

If you get shot and run to the cops, you not like me

You ain't got no work on the block, you not like me

It's hot, you ain't got no drop, you not like me

Like me, dude, you not like me

Mama said everything that happened to us, was part of God's plan

So at night when I talk to him I got my gun in my hand

Don't think I'm crazy 'cause I don't fear man

'Cause I fear when I kill a man God won't understand

I got a head full of evil thoughts, am I Satan?

I been could've killed these niggas, I'm still waitin'

In the telly with two whores, Benz with two doors

32 karats in the cross, no flaws

You see me in the hood, I got at least two guns

I carry the Glock, Tony carry my M-1

Hold me down, nigga, OGs tryin' to rock me

D's waiting for my response to lock me

This is my hustle, nigga, don't knock me

You need some shit with a banana clip to try and stop me

I'm the one

If you get shot and run to the cops, you not like me

You ain't got no work on the block, you not like me

It's hot, you ain't got no drop, you not like me

Like me, dude, you not like me

If you get shot and run to the cops, you not like me

You ain't got no work on the block, you not like me

It's hot, you ain't got no drop, you not like me

Like me, dude, you not like me

See, I done been to the Pearly Gates, they sent me back

Good die young, I ain't eligible for that

I shot niggas, I been shot, sold crack in the street

My attitude is gangsta, so I stay in some beef

You wanna get acquainted with me, you wanna know me

From 3 point range with a Glock, I shoot better than Kobe

See a nigga standing next to me, he probably my Co-D

See a bitch getting in my whip, she probably gon' blow me

See the flow is like a .38, it's special y'all

A country boy tell ya "I'm a finna to blow"

I'm more like a pimp than a trick, you know

You see, I'm in this for the paper, but I don't love the hoes

Niggas broke in the hood worryin' about mines

Grown ass men wearing starter kit shines

You know 'em little pieces with the little stones

Got little clientele fiends call your cell phones

When the gossipin' start, I'm always the topic

You too old for that shit, dawg, won't you stop it?

Shorty, I've been watching, you watching me

Now tell me what you like more, my watch or me? Ha ha

If you get shot and run to the cops, you not like me

You ain't got no work on the block, you not like me

It's hot, you ain't got no drop, you not like me

Like me, dude, you not like me

If you get shot and run to the cops, you not like me

You ain't got no work on the block, you not like me

It's hot, you ain't got no drop, you not like me

Like me, dude, you not like me

☆☆☆☆☆

"Life's On The Line"

Nobody likes me

Nobody likes me, but that's OK

'Cause I don't like y'all anyway

Man, I don't like y'all anyway

Fuck all y'all!

I let my watch talk for me, my whip talk for me

My gat talk for me, bow! What up, homie?

Them bitches who don't know me, they wanna blow me

'Cause the shit I floss with be saying a lot for me

I came in the rap humble, I don't give a fuck now

I'll serve anybody like niggas who hustle uptown (Uh-huh, uh-huh)

Coke price go up, capsules come down

The Ds run in my crib, I'm nowhere to be found

Niggas who hustle for me, they don't even stash tracs

They keep it on 'em, right there in they ass crack (Yeah!)

When I don't like a nigga, I don't pretend to

I'll have the paramedics wrapping your fucking head like a Hindu

Look, I ain't going nowhere so get used to me

OG's look at me and see I'm what they used to be

I'm that nigga that sold coke, the nigga that sold dope

The nigga that shot dice, went broke, and sold soap

The thug that pop shit, the thug that pop clips

The thug that went from three and a half to a whole brick

Nigga ain't in his right mind going against me

My pictures painted through words, I make a blind man see (Woo!)

Scream murder, I don't believe you

Murder, fuck around and leave you

Murder, I don't believe you

Murder, murder, your life's on the line

Y'all niggas don't want no part of me

You tryna figure out how y'all started me

You gon' make me catch you on a late night

Pop shots with the fifth and slide off in the six

I'm not a marksman while sparking, so I spray random

Not a pretty nigga, but my moms think I'm handsome

I hate to hear "he say, she say" shit

Unless he say she said she on my dick

It's no coincidence, niggas who fuck with me get shot up (Blat!)

Do it Cali style, drive by and tear ya block up

You soft, duke, you putting up a crazy front

I stay with the Mac cause niggas tried to blaze me once

In the hood, they like, "Damn, 50 really spit it on 'em"

"You heard that shit?" "Yeah, 50 really shitted on 'em"

Beef, you don't want none, so don't start none

You're just a small player in this game, play your part, son

Scream murder, I don't believe you

Murder, fuck around and leave you

Murder, I don't believe you

Murder, murder, your life's on the line

These cats always escape reality when they rhyme (Uh-huh, uh-huh)

That's why they write about bricks and only dealt with dimes (Yeah!)

Leave it to them, and they say they got a fast car

NASCAR, truck with a crash bar

And TVs in the dash, paw

See 'em in the five with stock rims, I just laugh, pa (Hahaha)

I catch stunts when I ain't trying, I ain't lying

I sip Dom P 'til I spit up, keep my wrist lit up

Get outta line, I get you hit up (Woo!)

Now if you say my name in your rhyme

You better watch what you say

You get carried away, you can get shot and carried away

Now here's a list of MCs that can kill you in eight bars

50, um... Jay-Z and Nas

I'm 'a say this shit now and never again

We ain't buddies, we ain't partners, and we damn sure ain't friends

The games you playing, you get killed like that

Acting like you all hard, you ain't built like that

See me when you see me, nigga! What!

Scream murder, I don't believe you

Murder, fuck around and leave you

Murder, I don't believe you

Murder, murder, your life's on the line

Y'all niggas don't want no parts of me

You tryna figure out how y'all started me

You gon' make me catch you on a late night

Pop shots with the fifth and slide off in the six

☆☆☆☆☆

"Wanksta"

Woo! Yeah

It's 50 a.k.a. Ferrari F-50

Break it down

I got a lot of livin' to do 'fore I die

And I ain't got time to waste

Let's make it

You say you a gangsta, but you never pop nothin'

We say you a wanksta and you need to stop frontin'

You ain't no friend of mine (Yeah!), you ain't no kin of mine (C'mon!)

What makes you think that I won't run up on you with a 9? (Uh-huh)

We do this all the time (What?), right now we on the grind (Yeah)

So hurry up and cop and go, we sellin' nicks and dimes (Uh-huh)

Shorty, she so fine, I gotta make her mine

An ass like that gotta be one of a kind (Woo!)

I crush 'em every time, punch 'em with every line

I'm fuckin' with they mind, I make 'em press rewind

They know they can't shine if I'm around to rhyme

Been on parole since '94 'cause I commit the crime

I send you my line, I did a three-to-nine

The D's ran up in my crib, you know who droppin' dimes

You say you a gangsta, but you never pop nothin'

We say you a wanksta and you need to stop frontin'

You go to the dealership, but you don't never cop nothin'

You been hustlin' a long time and you ain't got nothin'

You say you a gangsta, but you never pop nothin'

We say you a wanksta and you need to stop frontin'

You go to the dealership, but you never cop nothin'

You been hustlin' a long time and you ain't got nothin'

Damn, homie

In high school you was the man, homie

The fuck happened to you?

I got the sickest vendetta when it come to the cheddar (Uh-huh)

Nigga, you play with my paper, you gon' meet my Beretta

Now Shorty think I'ma sweat her (Uh-huh) sippin' on Amaretto (Yeah)

I might hit once, then dead her, I know I can do better

She look good, but I know she after my cheddar

She tryin' to get in my pockets, homie, and I ain't gon' let her

Be easy, start some bullshit, you get your whole crew wet

We in the club doin' the same old two-step

Guerrilla Unit, 'cause they say we bugged out

'Cause we don't go nowhere without toast, we thugged out

You say you a gangsta, but you never pop nothin'

We say you a wanksta and you need to stop frontin'

You go to the dealership, but you don't never cop nothin'

You been hustlin' a long time and you ain't got nothin'

You say you a gangsta, but you never pop nothin'

We say you a wanksta and you need to stop frontin'

You go to the dealership, but you never cop nothin'

You been hustlin' a long time and you ain't got nothin'

Me I'm no mobster, me I'm no gangsta

Me I'm no hitman (Yeah), me I'm just me, me

Me I'm no wanksta, me I'm no actor

But it's me you see on your TV

'Cause I hustle, baby, this rap shit is so easy

I'm gettin' what you get for a brick to talk greasy (Woo!)

By any means, partner, I got to eat on these streets

When you play me close for sure I'm gonna pop my heat

Niggas sayin' they goin' murk 50, how?

We ridin' 'round with guns the size of Lil Bow Wow

What you know about AKs and AR-15s

Equipped with night vision, shell catchers and inf-beams, huh?

You say you gangsta, but you never pop nothin'

We say you a wanksta and you need to stop frontin'

You go to the dealership, but you never cop nothin'

You been hustlin' a long time and you ain't got nothin'

You say you a gangsta, but you never pop nothin'

We say you a wanksta and you need to stop frontin'

You go to the dealership, but you never cop nothin'

You been hustlin' a long time and you ain't got nothin'

Aha! Damn, homie