50 cent

50 cent
(Like the fire needs the air)
(I won't burn unless your there)

Yea, I need you, I need you to hate
So I can use you for your energy
You know, it's real shit, feel this!

America's got a thing for this gangsta's shit, they love me
Black Chucks, black skullies, leather Pelle-Pelle
I take spills over raymo shit, I'ma fan
Got that silver duck tape on my Trey Eight handle
The women on my life bring confusion shit
SO like Nino from New Jack, I'll have to cancel that bitch
Look at me, this is the life I chose
Niggaz around me so cold, man my heart dun froze up
I build an empire on the low the narc's don't know
I'm the weatherman, I take that coco leaf and make that snow
Sit back, watch it turn to dope, watch it go out the door
O after O, you know, homey I'm just triple beam, dreamin
Niggaz be schemin, I'm fiendin to live a good life
The fiends just fiendin
Conceal my weapon nice and easy so you can't see
The penitentiary is definitely out the question for me

[Chorus] :
I want the finer things in my life
So I hustle (hustle)
Nigga you get in my way when while I'm tryin to get mine
And I'll buck you (buck you)
I don't care who you run with, or where you from
Nigga fuck you (fuck you)
I want to find the thing thats in my life
So I hustle (hustle

http://goodsites.kazeo.com/?page=article&ida=308761
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# Posté le samedi 18 avril 2009 18:50

Modifié le samedi 25 avril 2009 19:49

50 cent

50 cent
Yea, I don't know shit about gymnastics I summersault bricks
Black talents start flyin, when a nigga flip
I cook crack in the microwave, niggaz can't fuck with me
Man my cold days, they called me chef boy are 50
Check my logic, smokers don't like seeds in their weed shit
Send me them seeds I'll grow 'em what they need
Them ain't chia pet plants in the crib thats chronic
And I'm sellin them 500 a pop god damn it
I sold everythin I'ma hustler, I know how to grind
Step on grapes put in water and tell you its wine
If you analyze me, what you'll find is the DNA of a crook

What goes in my mind, it's contagious
Hypnotic, it sounds melodic
If the rap was the block or spider, I'll be that potent product
Now get a load of me, flashy, far from low key
And you can locate me where ever that dope be, gettin money man

[Chorus]
I want the finer things in my life
So I hustle (hustle)
Nigga you get in my way when while I'm tryin to get mine
And I'll buck you (buck you)
I don't care who you run with, or where you from
Nigga fuck you (fuck you)
I want to find the thing thats in my life
So I hustle (hustle)
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# Posté le samedi 18 avril 2009 18:48

Modifié le samedi 25 avril 2009 18:48

50 cent

50 cent
Its a hustler's ambition, close your eyes listen, see my vision
Mossberg pumpin, shotgun dumpin and drama means nothin
It's part of the game, catch me in the coupe switchin lanes
In the jewels with your chains
I upgrade from 30 BS to clean VS
Rocks that I copped procedes from the spot
I got the energy to win, I'm full of adrenaline
Played it perf and get nauseous, watchin the spinner spin
I make plans to make it, a prisoner of the state
Now I can invite yo ass out to my estate
Them hollow tips bent me up, but I'm back in shape
Pour Crystal in the blender and make a protein shake
I'm like the East coast number one playboy B
Hugh Hefner'll tell you he don't got shit on me
The feds watch me, icey they can't stop me
Racist, pointin at me look at the nigga ratchi
Hello!

[Chorus]
I want the finer things in my life
So I hustle (hustle)
Nigga you get in my way when while I'm tryin to get mine
And I'll buck you (buck you)
I don't care who you run with, or where you from
Nigga fuck you (fuck you)
I want to find the thing thats in my life
So I hustle (hustle)
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# Posté le samedi 18 avril 2009 18:47

Modifié le samedi 25 avril 2009 18:49

ggggggggggg-unit

ggggggggggg-unit


I get money, I get money, I get I get I get money (50)

]I get money, money is got (I I get it)
I get money, money is got (I I get it)
I get money, money is got (Yeah)
Money I got, money is got (I run New York!)
I get money, money is got (I I get it)
I get money, money is got (I I get it)
I get money, money is got (Yeah yeah)
Money I got, money is got (I run New York!)

I take quarter water sold it in bottles for 2 bucks,
Coca-Cola came and bought it
For billions, what the f**k?
Have a baby by me; baby
Be a millionaire
I write the check before the baby comes,
Who the fuck cares
Im stanky rich
Ima die tryna spend this shit
Southside's up in in this bitch
Yeah i smell like the vault
I used to sell dope
I did play the block
Now i play on boats
In the south of France
Baby, St. Tropez
Get a tan? im already black
Rich? I'm already that
Gangsta, get a gat
Hit a head in a hat
Call that a riddle rap
Shit, f**k the chitter chat
I'm the baker, i bake the bread
The barber, i cut ya head
The marksman, i spray the lead
"I blood clot, chop ya leg"
Do not fuck with the kid
I get biz wit the cigg
I come where you live
Ya dead!

I get money, money is got (I I get it)
I get money, money is got (I I get it)
I get money, money is got (Yeah)
Money I got, money is got (I run New York!)
I get money, money is got (I I get it)
I get money, money is got (I I get it)
I get money, money is got (Yeah yeah)
Money I got, money is got (I run New York!

You can call this my new shit
But it aint new tho
I got rid of my old bitch
Now i got new hoes
First is was the Benzo
Now im in the Enzo, Ferrari, im sorry!
I keep blowin up! (Oh!!)
They call me the cake man
The strawberry shake man
I spray the AR
Make your whole click breakdance
Backspin, headspin, flatline, ya dead then
9 shells, Mac-10,
"who wan get it crackin?!"
I was young, i couldnt do good
Now i cant do bad
I ride, wreck the new Jag
I just buy the new Jag
Now nigga why you mad?
Oh you cant do that
Im so forgetful, they callin me cocky
I come up out the jewler, they callin me Rocky
Its the ice on my neck man, the wrist and my left hand
Bling like BLAOW
You like my style
Ha ha im headin to the bank right now

I get money, money is got (I I get it)
I get money, money is got (I I get it)
I get money, money is got (Yeah)
Money I got, money is got (I run New York!)
I get money, money is got (I I get it)
I get money, money is got (I I get it)
I get money, money is got (Yeah yeah)
Money I got, money is got (I run New York!)

Yeah, I talk the talk, and I walk the walk
Like a teflon Don, but i run New York
When i come outta court, yea i pop the Colt
I keep it gangsta, have ya outlined in chalk
I I get it,
In the hood if ya ask about me
Theyll tell ya im bout my bread
I I get it,
Round the world if ya ask about me
Theyll tell ya they love the kid
I I get it,
Whoa Hey..
I I get it,
Whoa Hey..
I I get it,
Whoa Hey..
Yeah,
Whoa Hey..
I run New York!
Whoa Hey..
I I get it,
Whoa Hey..
I I get it,
Whoa Hey..
Yeah, yeah,
Whoa Hey..
I run New York!
Whoa..
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# Posté le jeudi 16 avril 2009 19:21

Modifié le mardi 18 août 2009 23:55

me otmane

me otmane
Yeah!!! When I'm out in N.Y. boy it's blunts and phillies
When I'm out in L.A. boy it's wraps and swishes
Now Blood walk to this, now Crips walk to this
Now throw it up, raise it up for that gangsta shit
Now Blood walk to this, now Crips walk to this
Now throw it up, raise it up for that gangsta shit

I'm in my Labo maggot, my fo' fo' faggot
Doors lift up I'm like Go Go Gadget
See the shit I got on, homey I hate too
My teflon arm brought my government issues
I'll hit your vertebrae bullets rip through tissues
Your wife on the futon huggin that skitzo
Homey you a bitch you got feminine ways
Heard you got four lips and bleed for seven days
I got fo' fifths and bananas on the case
And got more whips than a runaway slave
Me and Yayo go back like some high top fades
When I made fifty mill, Em got paid
When I made sixty mill, Dre got paid
When I made eighty mill, Jimmy got paid
I ain't even gotta rap now life is made
Said I ain't even gotta rap, I'm filthy mayne

I'm laughin straight to the bank with this (Ha, ha ha ha ha ha, ha, ha ha ha ha ha)
I'm laughin straight to the bank with this (Ha, ha ha ha ha ha, ha, ha ha ha ha ha)
I'm laughin straight to the bank with this (Ha, ha ha ha ha ha, ha, ha ha ha ha ha)
I'm laughin straight to the bank with this (Ha, ha ha ha ha ha, ha, ha ha ha ha ha)
I'm laughin

I see nothin but hundred dollar bills in the bank roll
I got the kind of money that the bank can't hold
Got it off the street movin bundles and loads
Seventy Three Caprice old school when I roll
Breeze pass with the EZ Pass fuck the toll
No more platinum I'm wearin gold
I'm internationally known as the kid with the flow
That brings enough dough it's never enough dough
Shit I need mo' I need shit out the sto'
Baby ble was cold fresh out the flo'
Stashbox by the dashbox incase they want war
Make the purple bring the green in fuck the law
I'm oh so raw, I'm hot I'm sure
I'm like the coolest motherfucker around the globe boy
I set the club on fire I told ya
I'm the general salute me soldier

I'm laughin straight to the bank with this (Ha, ha ha ha ha ha, ha, ha ha ha ha ha)
I'm laughin straight to the bank with this (Ha, ha ha ha ha ha, ha, ha ha ha ha ha)
I'm laughin straight to the bank with this (Ha, ha ha ha ha ha, ha, ha ha ha ha ha)
I'm laughin straight to the bank with this (Ha, ha ha ha ha ha, ha, ha ha ha ha ha)
I'm laughin

Now work it out now, shorty work it out, work it out
I wanna see you, break it down
Now back it up now, you know what I'm about
It's like a bank job I'm rentin them out
Now work it out now, work it out, work it out
Now work it out now, work it out, work it out
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# Posté le jeudi 16 avril 2009 19:19

Modifié le lundi 17 août 2009 22:48

gangsta gunit

gangsta gunit
Every hood we go through
All the gangsters around know my whole crew (nigga WHAT?!)
We hold it down like we 'sposed to
Nigga you can front if you want, we be poppin them thangs
(YEAH!) Every hood we go through
All the gangsters around know my whole crew (nigga WHAT?!)
We hold it down like we 'sposed to (ha ha)
Nigga you can front if you want, we be poppin them thangs

[50 Cent]
After the VMA's my baby momma cussed my ass out
I kicked her ass, we back friends like Puffy and Steve Stoute
Cut the grass around my crib so I could see these snakes
You see 'em back in the hood, it's cause I see they're fake
A preacher's son about the paper like I'm Creflo Dollar
I pop you punk niggaz like I pop my collar
I'm confused, I like Megan, Monica and Mya
Missy's freaky and Brandy's shot up
Now take a look at how my lifestyle changed up
I'm on now, God damnit, I done came up (what?)
Now you can find me with the finest hoes
Choosin which whip to drive by what match my clothes
I got a fetish for the stones, I'm heavy on the ice man
If I ain't got a pistol on me, sure I got a knife fam
Get out of line and I'm lightin yo' ass up
Semi-automatic's the way I tighten yo' ass up - what?
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# Posté le samedi 11 avril 2009 20:04

Modifié le mercredi 08 juillet 2009 06:37

what up gangsta

what up gangsta
G-Unit (What)
We in here (What)
We can get the drama popping
We don't care (What, what, what)
It's going down (What)
'Cause I'm around (What)
50 Cent, you know how I gets down (Down)

What up, Blood? (What)
What up, Cuz? (What)
What up, Blood? (What)
What up, Gangstaaa?

They say I walk around like got an "S" on my chest
Naw, that's a semi-auto, and a vest on my chest
I try not to say nothing, the DA might want to play in court
But I'll hunt or duck a nigga down like it's sport
Front on me, I'll cut ya, gun-butt ya or bump ya
You getting money? I can't 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 then they know me
I grew up around some niggas that's not my homies
Hundred G's I stash it (what), the mack I blast it (yeah)
D's come we dump the diesel and battery acid
This flow's been mastered, the ice I flash it
Chokes me, I'll have your mama picking out your casket, bastard
I'm on the next level, right lane forget bezzle
Benz pedal to the metal, hotter than a tea kettle, god (what)

What up, Cuz? (What)
What up, Blood? (What)
What up, Gangstaaa?

What up, Blood? (What)
What up, Cuz? (What)
What up, Blood? (What)
What up, Gangstaaa?

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 5th 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 Patty LaBelle, homie, I'm on my own
Where I lay my hat is 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 hoe fuckers, in the hood they love us
Stomp a bone out your ass with some brand new chuckas
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# Posté le samedi 11 avril 2009 20:01

Modifié le mercredi 08 juillet 2009 06:40

ana otmane

ana otmane
ana otmane
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# Posté le samedi 11 avril 2009 19:54

Modifié le lundi 17 août 2009 23:07

gangsta

gangsta
Yea, 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 wit toast
Eastside, Westside, I hold that MACK DOWN
Every little nigga you see around me
Hold a gun big enough to fuckin hold SHAQ DOWN
Next time you in the hood and see an ol G
You ask about me, the young boy don't BACK DOWN

Any living thing that cannot co-exist with the kid
Must decease existin, little nigga, now listen
Yo mami , yo papi, that bitch you chasin
Ya little dirty ass kids, I'll fuckin erase them
Your success is not enough, you wanna be hard
Knowin that, you get knocked, you get fucked in the yard
Youza poptart sweetheart, you soft in the middle
I eatcha 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 + Knight + to be Suge
You can buy cars but you can't buy respect in the hood
Maybe I'm so disrespectfu cuz to me you're a mystery
I know niggaz from ya hood, you have no history
Never sold nothin, never popped nothin, nigga stop frontin
Jay put you on, X made you hot
Now you run around like you some big shot
Ha, ha pussy...

"This rap shit is all fucked up now! What are we gonna do now?
How we gonna eat man? 50 back around"
That's Ja's lil punk ass thinkin out loud
Southside, Tah died, 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 niggaz, they come from Yonkers
It's been years and you had the same niggaz in the background
You never gonna sell unless Cadd Tah's crack child
Them niggaz 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 sayin "50 we feelin you mayn"
Now you stay the fuck outta my zone, outta my throne
I'm New York City's own... BAD GUY (BAD GUY)

I ain't tellin anyone you pussy
I ain't tellin anyone you gettin extored
It ain't over.... (G-UNIT)
I've been patently waitin to BLOWW
Ladies and gentlemen , welcome to the "50 Cent Show"
This is my life , my pain, my night , my gun
Now that I'm back, you can't sleep
I'm a nightmare huuhhhh
You hired cops to hold you down cuz you fear for your life
You heard about them guns I done bought, right?
I ain't goin no where, I done told you nigga
I'ma G-Unit motherfuckin solider nigga (They not gon like you)
I know, I know...ha, ha (G-UNIT
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# Posté le samedi 11 avril 2009 19:51

Modifié le mardi 07 juillet 2009 17:08

me otmane

me otmane
Ohh!
The top feel so much better than the bottom
So much better
so much better

Nigger yous' a window shopper
Mad at me, I think I know why
Nigger yous' a window shopper
In the jewelry store lookin' at shit you can't buy
Nigger yous' a window shopper
In the dealership tryna get a test drive
Nigger yous' a window shopper
Mad as fuck when you see me ride by

Summertime, white Porsche Carrera is milky
I'm on the grind, let my paper stack but I'm filthy
It's funny how niggaz get to screw-facin' at me
Anyhow they ain't got the heart to get at me
I'll get down, Southside's the hood that I come from
So I don't cruise through nobody 'hood without my gun
They know the kid ain't gonna follow that bullshit
Try and stick me, I'ma let off a full clip
It ain't my fault you done fucked up your re-up
At the dice game who told you put a G up?
Everybody mad when they paper don't stack right
But when I come around y'all niggaz better act right
When we got the tops...down you can hear the systems thump
nigga when we rollin', rollin', rollin'
Shut ya block down, quick to put a hole in a chump
nigga when we rollin', rollin', rollin'

Niggaz love me in L.A. as soon as I pop in
They come to scoop me up at L.A.X. and I hop in
But when it comes to bad bitches you know I got them
Some from Long Beach, some from Watts and from Compton
You know a nigga wanna see how Cali girls freak off
After that five hour flight from New York
I start spittin G at a bitch like a pimp, mayne
Tell her, "Meet me at the Mondrian so we can do our thang."
She can bring the lingerie with her, I sup-pose
Then we can go from fully dressed to just having no clothes
Then she can run and tell her best friend 'bout my sex game
Then her best friend could potentially be next, mayne
Listen mayne, shit...changed, I came up I'm doin my thang
Homey I'm holdin', holdin', holdin'
Oh shit mayne, the store owner watchin' you
'For somethin' get stolen, stolen, stolen
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# Posté le samedi 11 avril 2009 19:49

Modifié le lundi 17 août 2009 23:19