{*set to the “If I Could Go” instrumental by Angie Martinez*}
[50 Cent]
Yeah…
She like it she love it, she kiss it she suck it
She want me to want it, she want to climb up on it
Smile, ha ha… {yeah, Lloyd Banks} (ha ha ha…)
50 Cent (yeah…) {*SHADYVILLE~!*}
[Lloyd Banks]
Mami we can, creep through the ghetto wit’cha, feet in stilletos
Hit the, club and party as long as you sneak in the metal (YEAH~!)
Or we can head to the house, from the house it’s the floor
From the, floor to the couch, from the, couch to the door (WOO!)
Then it’s, out to the store or, out to the mall
Watchin, out for the law, cause of this pouch full of raw
I don’t care how much you love her don’t, vouch for the whore
Cause the first chance she get I’m in her mouth on the tour (WHAT?)
I’m lovin the ladies, with no husbands or babies
Since little I’ve been active, lost dozens of babies (C’MON!)
Gettin a hummer stuntin, in your cousin Mercedes
Or roll up on you dumpin, pourin guns at your 80′s (WHAT~?!)
You the man on your block? I’m the talk of the town
That’s probably why they wanna see me in chalk in the ground
But you can find me on the corner with a pack of marijuana
Middle finger to haters nigga you fuckin with the greatest
[Chorus: 50 Cent]
Yes, I wanna go, to a mo-tel
Just for fo’ hours, only short stay
We don’t have to go, far far away
To have some fun, try things my way
Bitch grab your bag, get in the Escalade
Put the seat back, we’re onnn our way
There’s no games to play, nothin else to say
Listen to your man, you’ll like things my way
[Lloyd Banks]
You make me wanna, rest in the tower make a, mess in her flowers
How ’bout, sex in the shower or, neck for an hour (AOWWWW~!)
You got a ring on your finger even, one in your nose
Squeezin some on your toes, runnin your tongue like lobes
Ohh remember spin the bottle? You coulda been a model
While you begin to swallow, niggaz in Timbs tomorrow
No love, no hoes, no paper
Nah no ice, no Mo’, there’s no acre
Your bitch look good I’ma take her
Won’t have to fight to make her the first -
{*abruptly ends*}
{*set to B.I.G.’s “The World is Filled…” instrumental*}
[50 Cent]
Yeah… 50 Cent, uh-huh
Governor, G-G-G-G-G-Unit~!
She ain’t that chick from the burbs that’s a stranger to drama
She that Uptown Girl with the cock at the sauna
Went out her way to let her know that I want her
I told her I – know fo’ sho’ we belong together
And I wouldn’t break her heart, my intentions are better
And I, shared the same dreams she had about cheddar
When the D’s came she was down to hold the baretta
I got a thing for babygirls, me and her against the world
[Governor - singing]
We used to think the same schemes, with the same dreams in mind
10′ll bring you back 20 if the crook is on time
And she knows daddy loves to eat
Take a seat and let my baby rub my feet
She was a clear thinker, with a plan to rule the world
But understandin her place is my girl
Talk about hardcore, to win she’d give her life
Or shoot to kill, to protect this life
[Chorus: Governor]
The world will hear, what’s really goin on, in my life – my life
The world will see, what was really down down, in my life – my life
If you only knew, the pain I feel; if you only could feel the streets is real
If they only knewwwwww, what’s goin onnnnnnn, yeah~!
[50 Cent]
You’re sunshine, your smile make my day
It’s simple – your dimple your eyes
Your lips, your thighs, got me hypnotized
Communication’s deep, I love it when we talk
Hate it when you leave but when you leave I love to watch you walk
You make a nigga forget about a life full of drama
She got expensive taste, she get it from her momma
Materialistic; still a nigga want her
Consistantly missin her touch when she gone, uhh
She smell like Chanel, she feelin me and I can tell
With the right woman by my side I feel like I can’t fail
I’ve been around been up and down my attitude is fuckin ass
She a rider, I’m in heaven when I’m inside her
Workin up a sweat, kissin on her neck, “12 Play” in the deck
Fo’play correct, have her drippin wet
She looked in my eyes and say she like it but I know she love it
I just keep doin what I’m doin and think nuttin of it
[Chorus] w/ ad libs
{*abruptly ends halfway during the last line of the Chorus*}
“STOP!!”
{*set to Dr. Dre & Snoop’s “Deep Cover” instrumental*}
[50 Cent]
G-G-G-G-G-G-Unit!
50 Cent nigga, Tony Yayo (yeah)
{WHOOOOOO… KID}
[Chorus: repeat 2X]
Yeah! And you don’t stop
I do a one-eight-seven on your motherfuckin block
Yeah! And it don’t quit
It’s G-Unit in your motherfuckin ass bitch~!
[Tony Yayo]
They say good things should happen to those who wait
But I’m stuck in the game still slingin weight
For that eggshell white, that tan and the brown
For a XL-6 or a seven four pound
Suede seats is hot but Italian leather is better
And with cameras in the mirror, nigga cars costs cheddar
I’m on first class flights, with flyin cooks
Cause my verse sound nice when they fly in hooks
Now I’m blowin weed yo, in Beverly Hills
With some bad freak hoes in the Montreal
Next year it’s the new Hummer, stash box with the llama
I drive through in the blue data bomber
Heaven or hell’ll prevail when I’m a goner
Cause I eat up tracks, like Hannibal and Dahmer
I’m the first one out, and last one on the corner
Cause life is a hustle, any day you be a goner
P89 Ruger, with the silence off
Let off a clip it sound like spitballs goin through straws
We got, plenty of ratchets but not on sale
We even got villagers that hold shotgun shells
These rappers is talkin ’bout bricks in they rhymes
You never did shit but some Mickey Mouse crimes
I don’t respect it, my work is never watered down
So on the first I get mo’ checks than Nike Town
Sling in thirty-one hundreds, I been on the block
Since niggaz did the snake, running man and the wop
When I was 15, I ain’t want no workin papers
I played the strip all night, servin niggaz
Listen nigga, we live like Italians in jail
I got C.O.’s bringin cell phones to my cell
Get rich in the game, niggaz out to get you
Fill your ass up with led turn yo’ ass to a pencil
I jumped out with the Ruger rapid-fire
I had you on the run like Omar on “The Wire”
I’m the only rapper you know that stay on the run
I’m the only rapper you know that stay with a gun
I’m a hustler, O.G.’s love to hate
Cause I got old school money put away in the safe
You can catch me in the hood where that dope and coke at
Or you can catch me in cali in the Hollywood throwback
I’m a bail jumper, you know them fish scale pumper
Fuck Judge Wong, he won’t catch me on the corner
Nigga pay poor tax, homey you owe me
You wanna rap we can battle for your see through Roley
I be in M mansion, strippin them models
His bathroom’s so far you gotta piss in a bottle
There’s too many indians and not enough chiefs
Why you buy all the guns if you ain’t got enough beef
The shit I spit’ll cause an all out riot
And my new four-fifth’ll cause a hollow-tip diet
I’m the type to tie up your lady, and gun butt your baby
I’m like the mob nigga, fuck you pay me~!
I’ma hide my assets, and disappear
Make a quick twenty mill’ and vanish in thin air
I’ve finished my work now its time to cop
And meet that Chinese lady at the baggage spot
I need twelve 12′s, and fifty-eight 58′s
Cause I got eight sales and they all gon’ wait motherfucker!
[Chorus]
YEAH~!
{Ha ha… WHOOOOO KID!!}