Testi musica canzoni

50 Cent] Yo, yo we can't stay alive forever So if shit hit the fan then we might as well die together I'm high as ever, more hoes and more chedda G-Unit move around with them pounds and barreta's Yea faggot, if I want it I'm gon' have it Regardless if it's handed to me or I gotta grab it Don't make a ass outta yaself tryin to stop me I'm cocky, raps rocky, nigga you sloppy You know that I'm, 8 levels above you nigga I'll club you nigga, I never heard of you nigga, ugly nigga I'm the wrong one to provoke You rattin on niggas is only gon' leave you smoke So the only thing left now is tools for these cowrads I got no friends, fuck most of these cowards They pop shit 'till we start approaching these cowards While we lay around dollars, they lay around flowers [Lloyd Banks] I got a intergangstress who argue and steams the reefer And who flip when I call a bitch like she Queen Latifah Not all the vehicle's is long enough to stash the streetsweeper This shit can get uglier than the Master P sneaker We slidin through the ruckus, wit prada on the chuckus Soon as spring break ho's home from college wanna fuck us I ain't here to drop knowledge on you suckas I'll sick rottweiler's on you fuckas, cops followin to cuff us Top dollars to discuss this, whole lotta zeros When it comes to paper I blow a soul outta aero I'ma break before I lay floor buried Besides, every rapper ain't a star, n every plad ain't Burburry You can't tame Lloyd, smokin by the big screen You changin the channel looks like I'm playin the game boy I know to watch botherin ya vision You reach and I'll put a dot on ya head like its part of yo religion Why party wit a pigeon? I'm blowin a 10 cuz Bush handin flyers for a party in a prison I'm in the gucci vest wit the green and red straps I'm the last rapper to scare niggas since Craig Mack Now every morning's a fast start And there aint problem gettin dressed cuz my closet got more isles than pathmart Run, move startin a wave and leave wit 12 shells in ya mouth like a carton of eggs I'm the young pimp pardon my age I don't got long hair but if I did she be puttin my braids Niggas find what club they at take 'em wit us, and run a train on 'em like a subway map get advance is a grey Acura see these record labels got most artists gettin fucked like the gay rappa' i go the college on the tour I'm goin down in history nigga, next to Wallace and Shakur I keep ya ammo clean, Tek's polished in the drawer Camera's by the hamper that monitor the floor by now, you probably heard of me fresh outta surgery, flashy as a fuck, you gon' have to murder me Burglary, I'm leavin wit cha nike's bugendy, White T, bergendy you match now, back down niggas love to hate you, but love you when you disappear catch me on the boat wit weed smoke and fishin' gear heavy when I tote, C-notes from different years Bezzy on the rope, remotes for liftin chairs You ain't rich, but we glad to snatch ya I send cars to crib like I'm a cab dispatcha you better off wit ya stupid guys, lookin for a coupe to drive you ain't gettin nuttin but ya french fries supersized it's a damn shame y'all still local I'm in a million dollar studio layin my vocals Nigga [50 Cent] Still in the projects nigga, you ain't goin nowhere you gon' fuckin be there for the rest of yo muthafuckin life and yo momma said, I'm supposed to tell you somethin..... to encourage you, somethin positive aight well I ain't gon' lie to you muthafucka, he ain't goin nowhere get yaself a beer, get on the fuckin curb... fuckin dirtbag