[50 Cent] Yeah.. 50 Cent, Lloyd Banks, Tony Yayo G-UNIT!
[Lloyd Banks] This rap shit plays a major part of my life So if you jeapordize it I got the right To send a mothafucka at you tonight G-Unit! And I ain't stoppin' to my clique poppin' Swimmin' in barrels of money Ma could walk around wit' a head up and challenge you dummy It's funny, niggas rather see you sufferin' and hungry I'm hungry as hell, skatin' with another nigga's money You lyin' your ass off, you know you ain't that tough I'm pullin' your mask off as soon as you act up You know what I came for, it isn't the game ball Artillary that's about as long as a chainsaw (Lloyd Banks!) I'm wide awake but it still feels like I'm dreamin' Forty cal. under my pillow, condom feelin' my semen The physical presence of a female, form of a demon That's why, I fuck 'em and leave 'em Get my nut while I'm breathin' Cause they thought they'd catch me slippin', now I'm duckin' and trippin' That's a thousand dollar outfit what the fuck is you rippin'? You trippin', more records could get my ass in position Death waits for no religion whether Catholic or Christian Listen, I went through Mama bitchin' in and out the kitchen With probable cause, Papa was in and out of prison You got soldiers, but you still gotta respect ours We got more four five's and nines than a deck of cards
[Tony Yayo] You can take me out the 'hood, but can't take the 'hood out me (Cause what?) Cause I'm ghetto, I'm ghetto Niggas hate when you do good But when you broke, your friends and your enemies They love you, they love you "Chi Chi, get the yayo" Picture me being crack, out of town, trips on the trail "Chi Chi, get the yayo" Picture me being crack (Tony Yayo!) You can sift me, cut me, I'll turn you to a junkie I'm the number one seller in the whole fuckin' country Wallstreet niggas, they cop me on the low White boys don't call me coke, they call me blow It's time to go, on the bus, the train, the plane I'll smuggle, I'm nothin' but trouble I'll make your money double Cook me in baking soda I'll turn your Hooprock into a new Range Rover I'll pay all your bills and fill your 'frigerator Feed your family, turn your man to a hater Put me in your doorpanels or your stashbox Put me in your Nik's, Timbs or Reeboks If you cop three and a half you hustling backwards Cop a hundred grams, you moving forwards You tryin' to move more birds ...In PA all day, on the corner of Third
[50 Cent] You can take me out the 'hood, but can't take the 'hood out me (what?) Cause I'm ghetto, I'm ghetto Picture me polishin' pistols, I'm comin' to get you The shells hit you, you screamin' Think I'm playin'? I mean it Man, I done bought all these pistols Lets get it poppin' Start wavin' my emboies shell cases get the droppin' (C'mon) Like if it's down the corner, I got too much pride to hide I'm outside, gun in my pocket just stunnin' I'm stoppin' I'm dyin' to pop it, I'm young and I'm restless, you know my contestants As the world turns, there's lessons to be learned Count all my blessin's, clean up my weapons I'm ready for war, the strong survive, the weak will parish I told you before, hoes they compliment me now like "50 nice chain" Belagio, twenty grand in chips at a dice game Burn out, can't stop gotta watch MTV, BET Nigga you see me! I wonder if you mad, cause I'm doin' good Or cause niggas feelin' me more than you in your own 'hood And it hurts cause you love 'em and they don't love you back