Lyrics Songtexte Song Text Musik Charts

[Chorus 2X: 50 Cent - singing]
She said she love it, she like my muuuu-sic
She like that I’m thuggin, she loves G-Unit

[50 Cent]
What? Uh-huh; she feelin the kid
Baby girl you can push me, pull me, scratch me, screw me
Holla my name out while we fuckin on top
You can ride like a rodeo, oh you freaky and I know so
I’m with it if you like it in your butt
She’s a working girl
Get on top and let me see you work it girl
Don’t stop – get it, get it
You can ride ’til you’re satisfied
Thought of your lovin in my brain make me sing in the rain
(Peep what she said)

[Chorus]

[50 Cent]
She like my music… G-Unit!
WOO~! Yeah… G-Unit {NON-STOP}

[Tony Yayo]
Man anything goes when it comes to hoes
Ma your feet look good, let me suck on them toes
And if your body smell right, let me lick all them holes
I bust a nut in your face and wipe my dick on your clothes
Baby – spark the blunt and light the incense
Now it’s time to freak off with my project princess
Y’all groupies wanna talk, and send fanmail
Cause y’all see me in The Source and the XXL (ha ha ha~!)

[50 Cent - singing]
Everybody wants to be real
Still they wanna hide how they feel
Nigga you’re supposed to be real
When niggaz find out that you’re tellin
Nigga you gonna get yo’ cap peeled
Cause they get it, and now you know you gon’ it
Truuuuuuuuuuuue, I know true thugs are hard to find
Just let me find you, f’real
I’ll put a hole in yo’ ass with the blue steel
Keep yo’ punk-ass from tellin – HA HA!
Oooooh nigga you, tell on me
And you’ll diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeee-hiiiiiiiigh

You heard me nigga?
I said you, tell on me
And you’ll diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeee-hiiiiiiigh
I got somethin for you nigga
I’ll put my hood on it, fo’ sho’
Ha ha, G-G-G-Unit {*echoes*}

{*set to Ms. Jade’s “Ching Ching” instrumental*}

[50 Cent]
Yeah! G-G-G-G-G-G-G-UNIT!!~!
(Yayo) {NON-STOP}

[Chorus 2X: 50 Cent]
I hustled then I got that ching ching ching
Then I bought my bling bling bling
That’s how I got your fuckin bitch on my dick

[Tony Yayo]
You can catch me run inside nigga, doin my thing
Cause what I write with my pen got me next to Don King
I’m blowin H-2-O, in a H2
With a project chick named Rachel
I got rocks on my neck, with a big-ass piece
And come through in a Lex with Claudette Ortiz
With no roof on the top, that’s my Sunday car
In the Hummer lookin hot, that’s my Monday car
I got a stable of hoes, now I’m a P-I-M-P
And bring in bitches on a Amtrak with grams of D
We got beams on the gat, we detail our weapons
And the way that I rap, we e-mail addressin
Niggaz hear what I spent, and wonder how I write it
G-Unit gon’ win, we on automatic pilot

[Chorus]

[Lloyd Banks]
With menage-a-trois’ I got these dykes wet
Off of blue E pills with the knife checks
I’m still blowin green in the PJ’s
Laid out in the cut readin screenplays, nigga be ea-sy
Don’t talk grea-sy, the rap game needs me
I spent 16, you gettin charged by the freebie
Y’all niggaz in court, spillin the beans
About the kid from New York that be killin the fiends
I’m a H-U-S-T-L-E-R hustler
I got 2 maids but fuck it I need a butler

[Chorus]

BITCH!!
{Can’t forget, rewind, DVD magazine}
“Can the drummer have some!”

{*scratching*} DJ please, pick up your phone
I’m on the request line {*scratching*}

[50 Cent]
G U-nit!

[Missy]
This is a Missy Elliot one time exclusive (Come on)

[Chorus]
Is it worth it, let me work it
I put my thing down, flip it and reverse it
{*”I put my thing down, flip and reverse it” – backwards 2X*}
If you got a big [elephant], let me search ya
To find out how hard I gotta work ya
{*”I put my thing down, flip and reverse it” – backwards 2X*}

[50 Cent] (Missy)
(REMIX) Unh Yeah
Now Missy she too much for me (I’m freaky)
She took me to to the crib man, she told me (eat me)
Now my babymama I told her ass not to beat me
Her broke ass wanna fight, Missy know how to treat me
She sitting on cash, she got money out the ass
Gave her them back shots and got money out her ass
Now you can see me in the coupe like WHAT
Next time I’ll hit her in that G5 TRUCK
I’ve got the magicstick, I can go for hours
From the bed to the floor, to the sink to the shower
With her back to the bed and her legs to the sky
I can go hard, know why, big girls don’t cry
I had visions of Missy with her money by the tub
Ching! Ching! Jackpot, I think I’m in love
I’m looking for Missy now so I can get my back rubbed
This the shit she hollered in my ear before we left the club

[Missy]
I’d like to get to know ya, so I can show ya
Put the pussy on ya, like I told ya
Gimme all your numbers so I can phone ya
Your girl acting stank than call me ov-ah
Not on the bed, lay me on your sofa
Call before you come, I need to shave my cho-cha
You do or you don’t or you will or you won’t cha
Go downtown and eat it like a vul-cha
See my hips and my tips don’tcha
See my ass and my lips don’tcha
Lost a few pounds in my whiffs for ya
This the kinda beat that go wa-ta-ta
Ra-ta-ta-ta, ta-ta-ta-ta-ta
Sex me so good I say blah-blah-blah
Work it! I need a glass of wat-ah
Boy oh boy its good to know ya

[repeat chorus]

[Verse 2]
If you’re a fly gyal, get your nails done
Get a pedicure, get your hair did
Boy lift it up, lets make a toast-ah
Lets get drunk, its gon bring us clos-ah
Don’t I look like a Halle Berry post-ah?
See dem Belvedere playin tricks on ya
Girlfriend wanna be like me nev-ah
You won’t find a bitch that’s even bett-ah
I make it hot as Las Vegas weath-ah
Listen up close while I take you backwards
{*”Watch the way Missy like to take it backwards” – backwards*}
I’m not a prostitute but I can give you whatchu want
I love your braids and your mouth full of funk
Love the way my ass ba-bump ba-bump bump
Keep your eyes on my ba-bump ba-bump bump
And think you can handle this ga-donk ga-donk donk
Take my thong off and my ass go boom
Cut the lights off so you see what I can do

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]
Boys, boys, all type of boys
Black, white, Puerto Rican, Chinese boys
{??} thanga thang, {??} thanga thang
Girls, girls, get that cash
If its 9 to 5 or shakin ya ass
Ain’t no shame ladies, do your thang
Just make sure you ahead of tha game

Just cause I got a lot of fame sup-ah
Prince couldn’t get me change my name papa
Kunta Kinte, enslave a game, no sir
Picture black sayin, “Oh yessuh massa”
Picture Lil’ Kim dating a pastor
Minute man, big men can outlast ya
Who is the best? I don’t have to ask ya
When I come out, you won’t even matt-ah
Why you act dumb like ughhh, duh
So you act dumb like ughhh, duh
And the drummer boy go pa-rum pa-pum pum
Give ya some some some of this Cinnabon

[Chorus]

To my fellas, ooooh
Good God, I like the way you work that
{*scratching*}
To my ladies, woo
You sure know how to work that, good God

{*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!!}

[Chorus]
If you think you can fuck with this G
You got to be cra-zeeeee
I won’t do a joint wit’chu, no matter how much
your label try an’ pay meeeee
I’m on top of hip-hop, I run with Aftermath
and motherfuckin Shadyyyyy
It’s simple, I see you’d like to be me
Y’all niggaz, can’t fade meeeee

[50 Cent]
I could be a gentleman or gangster, the bitch done chose
Got semi-autos to put holes in, niggaz and hoes
My wrist all froze, for flicks I pose
Fiends sample my D’s and those, I suppose that’s about a 9
So far the grands stack for niggaz sniffin white lines
Sell anything under the sun to get mines, I’m gon’ shine
Stunt for the summer, H2 Hummer, got paper now I’m picky
Change the rims, drape the watch, trade the Timbs, I upgrade
Now I’m paid – catch me in the Trump Tower lobby
Strokin other niggaz hoes is my hobby
Treat me like King Musabi baby, suck me baby
I roll with Shady and Dr. Dre, ohhhh~!
I’m down to, try my luck, see if I can fingerfuck in the truck
G-5, 50 so live
Soon as my zipper go down her eyes wide
Got her in the telly on the bed with her hands tied, wooo!

[Chorus]
If you think you can fuck with 50
You got to be cra-zeeeee
I won’t do a joint wit’chu, no matter how much
your label try an’ pay meeeee
I’m on top of hip-hop, I run with Aftermath
and motherfuckin Shadyyyyy
It’s simple, I see you’d like to be me
Y’all niggaz, can’t fade meeeee

{*16 seconds of instrumental*}

[Outro]
“Is this what you want?”
G-Unit, God’s Plan!!

[50 Cent]
50 Cent; Lloyd Banks!

[Intro]
Nobody get hurt if nobody don’t move
Just give it up smooth (G-UNIT~!)
Motherfucker you move I’ll flash my tool
and blast my tool (G-UNIT~!)
Nigga you don’t know me, and I don’t know you
You think you know my crew (G-UNIT~!)

[Lloyd Banks]
I been a problem since the old days, pimps and gold caps
Now I’m in O.J. Simpson throwbacks
Y’all was wonderin where my ass been
Probably vacationin on South Beach gettin head like an aspirin
If you gassed, I can let the tec pound your ego
Or lock you in a closet with the West Nile mosquito
The press crowd in people, especially celebrities
I’m heavily shittin on any Tom Dick or Gregory
Nigga you better be strappin; they want you dead if you rappin
I’m tryin to cave your head and your back in
I’m gettin bread and relaxin, and attractin a fan base
of females with e-mails and letters to fax in
In Vegas with a toaster and a blunt
And the hotel I’m checked in, got a rollercoaster in the front
I’ma post ‘em when I stunt, the Sammy Sosa of the month
Better yet the whole season, nigga I’m still breathin
Even though my dollars are green
I rap for the kids that’s too poor to waste eggs on Halloween
I’m gettin swallowed clean, my habits are good
Collectin all the karats I could
Slidin from a stash spot to conceal the torture
And a good silencer to make it sound like the Wheel of Fortune
All this careless talkin, cause I’m travelin and flossin
Havin a good time, and you havin a abortion
You sucker for love, gettin married and divorced then
can’t even afford the batteries for your Walkman
I’m out the hood, burnin Cali weed on Slausson
Where set trippin turn to tragedies and coffins
Look, I mean what I’m sayin, you schemin I’m sprayin
Your team end up layin, on the sofa screamin and prayin
Sayin, G-Unit niggaz be rollin crazy, holdin 80’s
Older ladies starin cause they starin in that gold Mercedes
Since 50 hooked up with Shady, now they tryin to book up and pay me
If you think I’m shook up you crazy, baby
The boy strapped two ninas
Smokin out a bag big enough to fit on vacuum cleaners
I wore a glove when I blazed you fatty, I ain’t your baby daddy
She flippin, now he tryin to grab me out the navy Caddy
I ain’t your ave-y, papa was a rolling stone
Stockin up to own a home, pocket full of loaded chrome
Drop and get a hold of dome, I know your motive homes
You mad, cause I’m fuckin half your Motorola phone
I’m swift with the women I’m good with my words
A lot of, niggaz is hatin on what I deserve I’m hotter
Front if you want, end up on the curb in your Prada
And your mans runnin, ambulance comin
Another day another dollar, on the low from the Impala
I can have a six still in my shower, motherfucker~!

[Outro]
Nobody get hurt if nobody don’t move
Just give it up smooth (G-UNIT~!)
Motherfucker you move I’ll flash my tool
and blast my tool (G-UNIT~!)
Nigga you don’t know me, and I don’t know you
You think you know my crew (G-UNIT~!)
I send a nigga that you thought you knew
to come through and put a hole in you (G-UNIT~!)

[50 Cent]
Lloyd Banks, ha ha!
50 Cent! I ain’t even gotta work hard
Look at these niggaz, ha ha ha
The fuck you gon’ do now nigga!
You done had the same niggaz in the background for a long time
Think they gangster, but goin back and forth to jail
Well jumpin the turnstile don’t count nigga
HA HA HA HA~!

[50 Cent]
Hold up
Son them niggaz know who hit that nigga son (I know, I know)
They – how the fuck, we gon’ know who hit him, and they don’t know who hit him?
The hood talkin man, e’rybody know~! (I know, it’s fucked up)

[Intro]
Now I lay thee down to sleep
Niggaz try and lay me down wit heat
And if I should die though before I awake
I pray my Lord my soul to take

[50 Cent]
If dead men could talk in your sleep your homey told you who got him
Would you have the heart to shoot the nigga that shot him? (Huh?)
Or would you start switchin upv
You thinkin ’bout the penitentiary and bitchin up?
What if he said money ain’t everything, the hood raised us wrong
All jookz’ll get your money long but look here I’m gone
Would that touch your heart? Have you feelin funny inside?
Would that be enough to make your punk-ass ride?
What if he gave you a little list of things to do?
Said he wouldn’t have to die, he could live through you
Would you load the gats, and get ready ro ride
Or would you lock the door at yo’ crib and hide?
It’s a cold world even when it’s hot outside
Whether sunshine or rain, you still feel pain
Hit him cause he was your strength, now you in a daze
Your homey turnin over in his grave… cause you PUSSY!

[Chorus: repeat 2X]
“Y’all know who killed ‘em, filled up” – B.I.G. {*repeat 3X*}
“Y’all know who killed ‘em, filled up with the lugers from they Rugers or they Desert”
(RIGHT~!!)

[50 Cent]
Them boys smoked your homey, ye ain’t gon’ do nuttin back?
Not even if he told you you next to get clapped?
It don’t take much for them shells to make the best of you
Your peoples gon’ probably cremate and burn the rest of you
You done did too much dirt to try and make it to heaven
Nigga is you down for this 1-8-7?
When you reach the pearly gates, how you gon’ explain
You gon’ try and tell God you’ve been framed?
Y’all did everything together, he was your dog
Now you Uptown coppin, and he in the morgue
Them niggaz he gave packs to, they kept the cake
His sister and his baby momma talkin to Jake (uh-huh)
Niggaz that rocked him, they came to the wake
But they ain’t come inside, they sat out in the ride
At the funeral, homicide all in the buisness
Walkin ’round askin niggaz to tell ‘em who did it
Niggas is throwin blows now you ready to rumble?
Thirsty niggaz are animals, the hood is a jungle
Broke nigga’ll body somethin over a bundle
Man a three-year-old kid in my hood know what a gun do

[Chorus] – repeat ’til 15 seconds left

[Outro]
Sha Money, XL!
Shadyville, teamwork, music