Skrevet av Emne: 50Cent!  (Lest 100932 ganger)

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« #75 : 16. juni 2006, 19:05 »
Hahaha! Du ser de har prøvd å gjøre midjen 2-3 cm smalere på hver side. KOMISK! Grin

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« #76 : 25. juli 2006, 14:42 »
eneste jeg hørte om steroider i den sangen er :"But he dont care, he's still locked up in his house and shit
Steroid up and he wont come about that bitch"

eller "stay worried up....." som han sier....omg

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« #77 : 01. august 2006, 14:58 »
Haha  biggrin
If you hit me in your dreams, you better wake up and appologize

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« #78 : 02. august 2006, 17:19 »
Skrev feil xD

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« #79 : 04. august 2006, 02:51 »
eller "stay worried up....." som han sier....omg

Ja ikke vet jeg, jeg fant bare lyrics på google...

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« #80 : 05. august 2006, 18:29 »
Haha, 1-0

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« #81 : 15. august 2006, 15:08 »

til der som liksom digger the game mer en 50 cent..  gå innpå og søk på change of heart the game.. Så kan dere se hvor "soft" han egentlig er. Alle tatoveringene han har er det dr.dre og 50 cent som har bedt han ta.. Tragisk person. i tilleg til det har the game vært manlig stripper

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« #82 : 15. august 2006, 15:29 »
...og enda er han en mye bedre rapper enn 50 Smiley
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« #83 : 15. august 2006, 15:37 »
...og enda er han en mye bedre rapper enn 50 Smiley

okey. kom med en tekst fra the game du mener er god=)

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« #84 : 15. august 2006, 16:07 »
Tror du må se game live jeg Wink to sanger:

One blood (fant ikke tekst)

300 bars & running Wink

300 Bars and Runnin
Just loan me your ears for 15 minutes
Walk with me

Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them *****z they toy soldiers
Oh, that boy colder than Hova unless he sober
Like I'm the president, but this ain't the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a little closer
Before you call this a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I wanna do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a ***** take shots to shoot back
Defending his yard, yeah standing his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire, then hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a concert in Madison square
Watch everybody sleep through it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the lines speak to 'em
What they say? Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the only *****z that rapped in Philly?
See them *****z with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Curtis Jack in Philly
Make a U-turn, I gotta go back to Philly
I forgot my cheese steak, that's what I told the cops
So they wouldn't get the dogs start searching for the glock
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die, when I heard that he was shot
What's beef? Beef is when I murk you on the spot
Labels signing many things, still searching for they Pac
I put purple on the block
So I don't feel threatened when Ludacris say he coming for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get lonely on top
You can hate me or love me, but now the cops the only homies he got
When it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop
You sell records but a GGG-u not!
Acting big on the radio, to me you not
You can ask Mr. CCC who hot
Tony Yayo I bet 10 G's you flop
Run up on that new 300 C you got
Stop hoping I fall, hope the bleeding stop
And I hope you black out before you see the cops
I ain't hot top for colors, I'm from Cedar Block
So I got my hot tops that make your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check your CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, they can't believe you dropped
Now I'm moving on up to George and Weezy's spot
I picked up where my homeboy Eazy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the shit on my back
Sprayed Aftermath on it, then loosened the strap
It get hot in here, let Lucifer rap
Bring hell to *****z when Dre producing a track
Take it to the streets, put the duece duece to your hat
Then call up the pigs, tell them the rooster's back
Call Jadakiss, tell him that duke is back
I'm still by your side, no matter who comes strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it ain't about who can rap
It's about when the Ruger clap, is rufus back
I see what you thinkin, you want me to die, is that so?
Now you left leaning back, thanks to Fat Joe
We got reservations in heaven, you ready? Let's go
Drop them off, then the sound like Esko
I'm a say 'he hit me first' if me and Dre talk
All Nas said back was he had a ??
Now that's the eulogy, beef is kinda foolish see
*****z running their mouth about what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping before I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain with plans of getting me captured
Even behind bars, I'm still gon' shine
I'm 10 years younger than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go right back, ***** I pop mines
How you gon' drop Olivia, you only drop dimes
I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in that vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my *****z make collect calls
1-800-split a faggot ***** wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw them off the Queens Bridge
Now your career is over, career is over
We in QB, banging CNN in the rover
T-O-N-Y, that's Capone and NORE
You ain't the talk of New York, your sixteens is boring
Take that shit off ??, go back to PC
And tell 50 Cent you want a copy of Beef 3
I'm airing their ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat after me
I'm a G-Unit toy soldier
On Sesame street doing voice overs
Bitch ass ***** need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I first got signed
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna borrow some lines
That's the wrong *****, when you need help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one more time
Got mad cuz I ain't wanna make your beef mine
You got lucky with Ja, why you ain't go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen, that's just the fact
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you ain't fucked with that
Then you lied about your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask Busta that
I knew from the beginning I couldn't trust those cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could bring Justo back
The underground is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
I said
The underground is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far from Houston but you can chop it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the shit moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred, ***** this is more than music
Even Dre knew it, that boy hot like summer
Both feet in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin
And I beef with any *****, say my name muthafuck I'm gunnin'
You can put it on skee if you want it
I'll air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue
And watch them shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk Flex when I catch the ***** Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ with bruised ribs
Don't hit me on the sidekick asking what you did
Get a gun or ask 50's police to use his
Cuz Bloods gonna get ya
Bloods, Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville chain
That 380 spill brains, when I pop shots
Outside NY, in front of hip-hop cops
Or broad day in L.A., I'ma tell Em and Dre
This ***** bootlegging my music, ain't nothing for him to say
Took me off my own songs, then put it on his tapes
So I'ma take him out his house, put the beam on his face
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the jakes
Cuz when you fucking with Jayceon, you can bleed in the lake
For caking off *****z on them CD's and tapes
Ask them to scratch a record, you will see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, you'd run and go get him a cheese cake
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant replay
Not the instant replay
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing like
Bitches only for your shit just a lil bit
*****z only for your shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 helped me just a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to some killer shit
My clips bananas, I kill a gorilla quick
Beating on your chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell Ecko to make him a suit
Tell Reebock to make him some boots
Get him a head band, to cover the holes in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters like Redman
Banks blacked out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant gotta ask for his strings
Take my advice, never wear air max for the game
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a Latin king
Cuz if your left with the Aryans your ass will sting
And your cell mate is a 25 to lifer
They will stab you in Folsom then fuck you on Rikers
And Life Goes On
Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and said he write my songs
He told Vibe Dre was gonna leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept them for yourself
***** stop acting tough before I stand over you
Show you how The Documentary live on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm blasting your ass to the last one
Ten shots from the Mack empty the rest in the passenger
Fase yelling thats enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and lift the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm locin' backing up
Reverse the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic, what
Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I pass 'em up
The Dodge got a hemmy in it, Game got a Remy in 'em
In and out of lanes like a New York cab
I miss the Old King, that New York had
Who's this fake *****, on pictures with the Jake *****?
Got his crew starving cuz he ain't the whole cake, *****
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he ain't Cube or Pac then who you got?
We getting tired of you talkin about who you shot
I'll use another six bars to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he went out like a gangsta
You went out with Vivica, three months after wanksta
Get Rich or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot
Now the same ***** wanna take us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, what happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging
***** got mad when The Game start buzzing
So fuck making friends now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia talking about we a family, Game had to go
***** I'll smack that ho like I'm Jackie-O
Cuz I don't wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your group
Just wanna sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can head back to the block
Fresh white Nike airs and the matching socks fitted

Pull the brim low, if they don't get it
Bentley Coup on gold daytons, I was the first one with it
Four times platinum, I done been there and did it
Came in the game and shitted, then wiped my ass with it
They say the Lord Givth, if Lord take it away
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll wait for the day
*****z hating on me, they don't want Jayceon to play
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to make a mistake
So they can put me in the SWAT car and lock me away
Give me a odd job in the pen for minimum pay
Let me out so I can drive down criminal way
Pushing the rock, nah this ain't no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot, and I want the winter to stay
Cuz I'm a cold ***** when I put the pen to the page
Similar to them shells going into my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them into grenades
And Just Blaze, cuz the boy got game
Like I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc chain
Now back to reality, my gun and my vest
And if diamonds are forever, then I'm Kanye West
Take a look at my chest, a hundred thou wet Jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred thou can't break 'em
And the flow is hot like that wit Satan
And the only thing I got spinning is Daytons
The hotter I get the more willing to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, watch where I take 'em
Compton Swap meet, to get me some All-Stars
When Game in the house, they they calling all cars
Cuz they heard about what went on in D.C.
Heard about Hot 97, my beef with 50

Now tell me do he got a conscience?
I think not, cuz if he did I wouldn't be involved in this nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this conference
I'd rather be pushing rock, like ??
50 whispered in my ear, like we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just acting like Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one hand on my Johnson
Hip-Hop police on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old school? I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Dana Day on the corner like Common
Now that ain't common, it's more like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I throw it up like vomit
And I still shine like diamonds
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two feet in the pentition
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I can't because
I'm in the hood politican, Impala liftin'
And I keep a black .45 on the side of my prada denim
Chip on my shoulder like I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred thou like my wallet missing
Then re-up like Kim before the d-cup
Continuously getting money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my black Air Force
I said fuck Benzino and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not then I guess you gotta kill me
But you ain't gon' do that so muthafucka move back
While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations on two tracks
When I wake the dead, everybody remove hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a hand clap?
Now back to rap, why I gotta stay strapped?
On that murder T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They won't know which hole to patch up, when the 'K' clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now it's time for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no cash nigga?
Say my name now that's your fucking ass nigga
Kept your mouth shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you down like the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck from my AK-47
This nigga playing with his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, talking shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, it's when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't want that David cuz you love your life
Get my Vibe, when it's war he pull out butter knifes
Muthafucka I'ma show you who the gangsta
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the wanksta?
When Suge had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for dead and went back to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and felt your little flow
Then he made you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's hard to swallow
And you got robbed for your spinning G-Unit chain in Chicago
I call my nigga Jojo to get it back
He had the shit in his hands, and you ain't had the ten stacks
Picture that, I thought we was G-Unit
Then you ran and told 50 that I did that shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't hard to find
I told Monica when I catch him The Boy is Mine
Take one shot of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the Candy Shop
Fuck you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the cops
And Olivia, I mean for a man she hot
Now I'm running out of breath, like I just beat boxed
Got 20 bars to go, lay it down like sheet rock
Don't worry about the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in store November, nigga fuck Reebocks
I'm fly like a Hummingbird on a tree top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need three spots
280 in, ain't no getting me back
I'm yelling fuck the world, on my victory lap
Remember first it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now it's whoever muthafucka, yeah, who want beef?
Now whenever muthafucka, who wanna see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, resting in peace
You don't want war nigga, you want peace
So give 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em rest in peace
From west to east the flow is outdatable, irreplaceable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing with Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you cannot replace 'em
If Eazy ever decide to return, I remain Jayceon
A king in the making, and the throne is for the taking
So I climb the mountain top and put my stake in
Got the weight of the world on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a hood rat bitch can stop me from taking it over
This is crack music, go get the baking soda
300 Bars and Runnin, nigga the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone

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SV: 50Cent!
« #85 : 15. august 2006, 16:18 »
okey. kom med en tekst fra the game du mener er god=)

No More Fun And Games, Dreams, The Documentary (verdens beste rap refreng?), Like Father Like Son, Don't Need Your Love, Church For Thugs, Don't Worry.

Det var bare de med bra tekster, kan begynne å nevne gode sanger generelt og.

50Cent var en god rapper på power of the dollar og get rich, no i det siste har han tapt seg.

Av dagens "unge" rappere er det kun et par navn som når høyt på min liste:

Kanye West, Common, Young Buck (G unit), Talib Kwali, Mos Def og sist, men best: The Game
Join Germ and his friends on magical and learning adventures through the toilet of time and space. Only $9.95!!!

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SV: 50Cent!
« #86 : 15. august 2006, 16:31 »
Hva er det egentlig som gjør 50 cent en så god rapper?
Det sies jo selv her på forumet at Dr.Dre lager beatsa. Tekstene i seg selv har vel med å være en god lyriker å gjøre spør du meg.
Så hvis jeg får si min mening så er ikke 50 cent noen dykig rap artist. Han har dårlig rap feeling og tekstene hans dreier seg for det meste om det samme meningsløse temaet.. Men det er som sagt bare min mening Cheesy

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SV: 50Cent!
« #87 : 15. august 2006, 16:49 »
Lloyd Banks featuring 50 Cent -  The Banks Workout

[50 Cent]
I hear a lotta talkin niggaz must be mad at BANKS
But there only one problem niggaz ain't as bad as BANKS
Nigga yous front you gon get shot down
We fend to pump crack at cho spot now, G-Unit
Nigga ain't nuttin change
You move I'll blow your brains

[Lloyd Banks] + (50 Cent IN CAPS)
These niggaz don't really want war (nah)
They just walk around frontin
Cause I walk around stuntin
Why you think the long pump is in the trunk for (yea)
If you really want somethin we can show up at your front door
I know my history, my family tree done said "master" (uh-huh)
Fuck livin positive, cause negativity spreads faster
A celebrity has ta, bulletproof his car
Cause big hits come flyin through ya door like Casper (WOO)
I'm smokin out the jar (jar) scopin out the bar
Distracted see shorty breast pokin out the bra (uh-huh)
Not the type to go spark metal in
Start thinkin you gangsta cause you hit a park yellow van (yea)
Act hard but ya heart made a marshmellows man
Talk tough, til you get cuffed and start tellin damn
Everyday I got a new bitch and when I'm done wit her
It'll look like she dived head first in the pool wit it (GOD DAMN)
You only gon wind up dead tryin to prove shit
I put chalk around ya head like a pool stick (yea)
I gotta have bucks on the waist
I'm hungry like a south african with fly stuck to his face( WAA)

Catch Banks in a truck full of bass (uh-huh)
Remember I'm a batchelor, the 4 or 5 ducks outta space
You could either get bucked or get ya ass jumped
The only trigger you touch is on a gas pump

I got my own personal slave she really got a curfew
Cook and clean for the kid like silly in color purple (UH-HUH UH-HUH)
I know you wanna pop me but (but)
If I hit you first, the exit wound gon be the size of a hockey puck (AHH)
Fuck, I really hold the rubber
I send +Sparks+ at you and I don't mean Emilio or Bubba
I'm aimin for a video cover, huge tall bustas
A pound and a philly hold the smuggler
G-Unit's whats up right now
The Gucci cloth is on a newport sign upsidedown
You gotta come a little harder, nigga
You wear jerseys while mine a throwback and yours is a Starter(HA HA HA)
You still gotta beg a hoe (hoe)
And you mad cause you blowin on oregano
You niggaz'll never blow
Anyone to step in my ring is brave
I don't know a thing about hair stylin but I can make a finger weave (ERR)
Short stay leave her butt in the telly
Lace up the beef and brocclis peanut butter and jelly
I'm about to get this deal (uh-huh) shorty know
Thats why she foamin out the grill like a Alka-Seltzer pill
I ain't loud around a snitch (nah)
I don't crowd around a bitch (nah)
The jumpsuit match wit the Carolina kicks
I been sick since niggaz was on Harlod Miner dick
I could call up a chick and put a child around her lips (WOO)
niggaz can't stand the fact that I'm real
I kidnap the Queen from the castle and put her back on the pill
Gimme Barbie at her best (UH-HUH)
Bacardi at the chest(UH-HUH)
I'm similar to the young Marcus Darvy at the desk
Useta have ta push up, now I hardly got ta press
Got two guns, and both lead to cardiac arrest
My success got suckers salty (salty)
Blowin steam like a cup of coffee
Click POW get these fuckas off me

[50 Cent]
I hear a lotta talkin niggaz must be mad at BANKS
But there only one problem niggaz ain't as bad as BANKS
Nigga yous front you gon get shot down
We fend to pump crack at cho spot now, G-Unit
Nigga ain't nuttin change
You move I'll blow your brains

Lloyd Banks nigga
Whats up nigga?
It's 50 nigga
You fuckin wit him right?
I know you fuckin wit him cause I said you fuckin wit him
Thats my baby right there thats my boy right there my young nigga
Whats up nigga?
What the fuck
I hear niggaz hollerin that "keep it real" and all that nigga
Nigga if you talkin all that gangsta shit
Nigga we get it poppin nigga
Whats up nigga?
Anytime nigga I don't give a fuck if it's 4 in the afternoon nigga
Any where you see me nigga
Lets go

Rå sang og tekst!!

G Unit - What Goes Around, Comes Around:

[Lloyd Banks]
I dont know where you from but out here we ride
So if you scared of conflict don't come outside
Get your hands on a gun
Cause ain't no one gonna repspect you as a man if you run, dial 9-1-1

I'm hear talkin' to the street now
That's only gonna lead to bulletwounds and beatdown's, retreat clown
You still strugglin down to your last rock
G-Unit is gorillas and Blackchild's the mascot
You thought you wouldn't hear my voice
I'm in the hood cause I'm hood
You in the hood cause you ain't got no choice
Your top seller gettin' sticked for his shine
Either I'm blind, or Ashanti's sideburns is thicker than mine
I'm youngest in charge with my dick in a dime

Grippin' the nine, sippin' that lime
Becardi in a party, you sorry
I'm blowin' wet green right out the safari
That'll put you in a left lean higher than a marley
And as far as Charlie, a studio hour is a waste
She look like she took a bag of flour in the face
You want street credibility instead of I'ma sting you
C'mon Ja you put a fuckin crackhead on your single

[Chorus: 50 Cent]
What goes up must come down, what goes around comes back around
I suggest you run when you see the pound
Or get laid the fuck out on the ground
What goes up must come down, what goes around comes back around
I suggest you run when you see the pound
Or get laid the fuck out on the ground

[Lloyd Banks]
My cousin bringin' back them blueberry bags, I've been waiting all day
On them Shelltops that got Jam Master Jay, on 'em
I got a jeanius and kneehighs that swallows me whole
Tongue's longer than the ones on your Fila's
She's buys anything I desire, prolly cause I'm on fire
The 2003 McGwire, until I retire
My neighborhood breed ballers that slam dunk
Cross overed to crack now they can't even jump
I leave with any panties I want, the industries new face
I'm in a bitch mouth every morning like toothpaste
Place your bet, Envy pull out a few crates
I got enough 16's to battle 2 states
I'm in a spaceship, neck full of grey shit
Bigetes in the braclet, expect nothing basic
Respect and embrace it, your sketch in the basement
I'll have them try to find where the rest of your face is


[Lloyd Banks]
The hoes know I'm lazy as hell, that's why I get the bitch to twist
Dogg, I stay around trees like Christmas gifts
Yea, you laughing and dancing 'til they stick you
And have you holdin' your chest like I'm singing the National Anthem
Have your worried bout the reprecussions after the tantrum
I'll be alone in a mansion, and it's snowing in the Hamptons
Regardless of what these fools say, I'ma be around longer than 'Cool J
Armed with a new K
So dumb in a new way, If I don't fuck Monday, I'm gone hit it Tuesday
My charm get it usually
You put a lot of years into rap, these lil' starvin' chumps
Start your career from the back of a milk carton
Your gased up from whatever he must of told ya
But everything in Army fatigues ain't a soldier
In my upbring we wore the same socks
And buckets in the living room to catch the rain drops


[50 Cent]
Dial 9-1-1, Yeah!, young Lloyd Banks,
GGgg, GGgg, GGgg, G-Unittttt, haha
I dare you to say something, haha,
I dare you to say something back nigga...

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SV: 50Cent!
« #88 : 15. august 2006, 17:22 »
Denne sangen klarte aldri 50 og svare på som jeg vet om Grin

Artist: The Game Lyrics
 Song: Play The Game Lyrics

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You niggas is soldiers man
Fuckin' toy soldiers
Yeah get in line cadet
Aten Hut!

Yayo you punk ass bitch.
I know you cant wait to get off house arrest nigga.
So you can run the fuck outta New York, you faggot

Niggas tryna play the game with 50 Cent, 50 Cent, 50 Cent
Why you tryna play the game with 50 Cent, 50 Cent, 50 Cent
Can't play the game with only 50 Cent, 50 Cent, 50 Cent
So why you tryna play the game with only 50 Cent
Come back when you got a couple dollars holla.

[Verse 1]
You gonna need more than 50 Cent to play this game
Nigga hating on me cause I'm doin my own thang
I aint Lloyd Banks, bitch. I dont share your brain
I was in the fast lane before the G-Unit chain
You was hatin on Ja cause him and Irv went pop now your ass run around singing the Candy Shop
After 'Westside Story' I took your fans
I sing it for myself that bitch Olivia's a man.
I got word from the wise nigga you dead wrong
stole the real 50's name and wouldn't pay for his headstone
Nigga got mad when 'How We Do' start climbin, acting like a bitch cause he Got Rich and Stop Tryin'
Got niggas locked up you a snitch in Queens
Told them Touch shot Pac then ratted out Supreme
But on the rizeal im talkin about you and me
Toe to toe 5-0 C-E-N-T, faggot

Banks is a bitch, 50 is a bitch, Yayo is a bitch, Buck is a bitch, Olivia's a bitch... no Olivia's a man, haha. God damn

[Verse 2]
You reported more names than the evening news
I guess now Reebok making cement shoes
Yayo the only real mutha fucka from the street
You swinging on me like you want 5 heartbeats
Ok. One. Two. Three. Four, flat line
If you say you wrote my shit one more time
You ain't a hood nigga, you Got Rich and Stop Tryin
Jimmy scared Chris Lighty and he start lying
Lil' snitch what you know about movin' in silence?
Even NYPD can't deny it
The life of your story is fuckin' Vivica
But your baby mama left you cause you couldn't get it up, bitch

Yayo went to jail, Banks sold a mil, then Buck sold a mil, then 50 gave a deal to a bitch named Olivia whose titties aint real.
Now they all hiding behind the police shield


G-G-G-G-you niggas aint shit, bitch ass niggas
I told you this shit was real, nigga
This is Fat Rat nigga, mutha fucka
All you get up on there is sing a few hooks
Nigga you wanna claim a niggas fame, nigga
You was our Ashanti, you bitch ass nigga
What the fuck is you talkin about you wrote something nigga
The Real is the real, nigga
Black Wallstreet, nigga
The Black Wallstreet, nigga
Gonna tell your bitch ass nigga
I aint gunna get up on this mic and play them games, nigga
I told my nigga lemme get that last 16, nigga
Im Rapping right now, nigga
But im spitting it real nigga
You know who im talkin to nigga
50, nigga
Bitch ass nigga
Black Wallstreet, nigga
Brasil and Wimelton
What block you on, nigga?
We'll be there!
What block you on?
Scary ass nigga
Fuck this shit man
Niggas woke me up with that bullshit, nigga.
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SV: 50Cent!
« #89 : 15. august 2006, 17:28 »
Stor kunst!

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Effektiv beintrening


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