Unit - Smile - Lyrics - Beg For Mercy - G

Title: Unit - Smile
Album: Beg For Mercy
Artist: G
Composer(s): Curtis Jackson, Christopher Lloyd, E Wilson, S Wright, C Robertson, Leon Ware

Lyric:
Yea, this somethin special y'know, somethin' epic
Lloyd Banks, you know
'Cause a nigga thuggin' don't mean he don't
Wanna see you smile baby

Woo, I wanna be the reason you smile
I wanna be the reason you smile
I wanna be the reason you smile
After you wipe away your tears and dry your eyes

I'm gettin' the feelin' you wanna take revenge
From the conversations we have and the way it ends
You wanna discuss me in front of your lady friends
That's why it's just me and my Mercedes Benz
It all depends, maybe if we make amends
We can start from scratch, ahan
Learn to control your temper and remarks in fact
We plan to be platonic but the hearts in tact
So everytime we separate, somebody's marchin' back
You're amazin' in the sack
Eyes slanted like you're Asian, but you're black
God bless whoever gave you all of that
If you seen her from the back
You'd understand why dis feel like that
And ain't a flaw to her toes, the Lord knows
Her pussy good enough to miss award shows
And I ain't gotta say nothin, she just knows
By the way I look at her to take off all her clothes
Up and down

Whenever I'm not around, and you feelin' down
Let the thought of me be
Be the reason you smile
I don't wanna see you frown, like them kids watch a clown
I wanna bring you joy and be
Be the reason you smile
Baby, you know my style, you know how I get down
I provide by any means to be
Be the reason you smile
We done been through ups and downs, had drama for a while
I'm just happy I'm around to be
Be the reason you smile

The main reason I been lookin' at you pitiful
What about the half of this shit I done did to you
Violated and tip toed into a crib or two
I've come clean to be a bigger individual
Even though you're busy boo, the evenin's when I visit you
Kinda makes me feel lucky, 'cause I see niggas
When you tease 'em with your physical
She wanna rack up her brooms, I ain't got no more room left
Wild drama, section eight princess
My foreign chick bad, but she been stressed
'Cause it's hard to communicate
'Cause she don't speak no ingles
I been around the world from state to state
But now I'm back bustin' in your bathroom
Got you laughin in your shower cap, let's get it on
Cause I'm leavin in a hour flat, really don't matter, she's mad
Even when I holla back
All I really need your attention for a while
And, I bet you I can make you smile
(And)

Whenever I'm not around, and you feelin' down
Let the thought of me be
Be the reason you smile
I don't wanna see you frown, like them kids watch a clown
I wanna bring you joy and be
Be the reason you smile
Baby, you know my style, you know how I get down
I provide by any means to be
Be the reason you smile
We done been through ups and downs, had drama for a while
I'm just happy I'm around to be
Be the reason you smile

Whenever I'm not around, and you feelin' down
Let the thought of me be
Be the reason you smile
I don't wanna see you frown, like them kids watch a clown
I wanna bring you joy and be
Be the reason you smile
Baby, you know my style, you know how I get down
I provide by any means to be
Be the reason you smile
We done been through ups and downs, had drama for a while
I'm just happy I'm around to be
Be the reason you smile

I wanna be the reason you smile
I wanna be the reason you smile
I wanna be the reason you smile
After you wipe away your tears and dry your eyes

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4e795e08a174648a3654e54c36f1a1a2

That'S What'S Up - Lyrics - Guess Who's Back? - 50 Cent

Title: That'S What'S Up
Album: Guess Who's Back?
Artist: 50 Cent
Composer(s): Curtis James Jackson

Lyric:
G-Unit, G-Unit, G-Unit
G-Unit, G-Unit, G-Unit
G-Unit, G-Unit, G-Unit
G-Unit, G-Unit, G-Unit

G-Unit nigga that's what's up
G-Unit nigga that's what's up
G-Unit nigga that's what's up

G-Unit nigga that's what's up
G-Unit nigga that's what's up
G-Unit nigga that's what's up

I blast 50 Cent nigga that's what's up

Right now my life movin' to fast to stop and pray
See every now and then I smile just not today
In my hood they let the choppers spray
Somebody probably got shot today
I named 'em pop when niggas surfboard
You ain't stoppin' me dawg

Only time you left ya hood is on Monopoly boards
You grimey as birds shittin' on the top of ya Fords
You will, die by the gun if you ain't droppin' ya sword
I got tattoos as well as lead marks
To me fucking is kinda like racin' and I always get a head start
My opinion of a sweet dream is a dead NARC
Just yesterday guns is blastin' with red darts

Beef, you a target 'cause when we come at yo ass
Aladdin won't be the only one the carpet
Man, you wanna play wit' a ringer
I ain't a people's person
I'll give my next door neighbor the finger
(Fuck you)

Even though I got the shit in the stores
I'm like a nigga that borrow clothes
Bitch, I'm tryin' to get in ya draws
Man, I'll dump a whole clip in ya mans braids
Pussies love Nelly, he made it look cool to wear band aids
I'm blowin' on damn haze

All of a sudden I'm gased, 'cause I'm on the radio and I can't wait
If you ain't up on thangs
Lloyd Banks is the name, G-Units the game
Now I know to keep low when the heat blow
I'll have niggas post up on ya block like I'm shootin' the free throw
Still get the green from P-dro, better known as Pedro

I'm ghetto like a patty ya egg roll
Yeah, they feinin' to stick me
They don't know the meanings is wit' me
Snuck in wit Christina and Brittney
You only spend time at the mall
On New Years eve a body drops around
The same time as the ball
(Yeah)

G-Unit, G-Unit, G-Unit
G-Unit, G-Unit, G-Unit
G-Unit, G-Unit, G-Unit
G-Unit, G-Unit, G-Unit

G-Unit nigga that's what's up
G-Unit nigga that's what's up
G-Unit nigga that's what's up

G-Unit nigga that's what's up
G-Unit nigga that's what's up
G-Unit nigga that's what's up
That's what's up

Keep thinkin' I'm candy ain't nuttin' sweet about me
Nigaas talkin' in the pens and in the street about me
Some jake, tryin' to watch every move I make
'Cause my Deez'll make fiends do the up-town shake

I'm a pro, far from a amateur
Holdin' more keys than your fuckin' janitor
They say, "God bless the child that could hold his own"
You pay cops to hold you down, I just hold the chrome

Every breath I take, every step I take, every move I make
I got a ruger on my hip
You ain't gotta like or love me but you gone respect me
You need a fifth and 2 clips to try and check me
12 in the afternoon we can start the clappin'

Look homie I'm down for that day-time action
Keep thinkin' it's a game time in front of ya home
Get the drop on that ass and shot shadder ya bones
(Yeah)

G-Unit, G-Unit, G-Unit
G-Unit, G-Unit, G-Unit
G-Unit, G-Unit, G-Unit
G-Unit, G-Unit, G-Unit

G-Unit nigga that's what's up
G-Unit nigga that's what's up
G-Unit nigga that's what's up

G-Unit nigga that's what's up
G-Unit nigga that's what's up
G-Unit nigga that's what's up

Listen boy, Tony be the real McCoy
When hoes see the new toy, they jump for joy
And even though the kid rappin'
I still got fiens in the hood puffin' on that Magic Dragon
My guns under my pillow, I sleep wit' my shoes on
Every single night me and my mack get our groove on

Don't get moved on
'Cause I shoot through your bicepts your triceps
Then breeze through ya projects when the coke come back
It's the China White and the D don't sweat us in a bag a rice
Let's ride O T and burn the tape

I got this bad mommy, her mouth's a sperm bank
Since Yayo be a fearless man
I donate my heart to them niggas that ran
And those niggas in the hood don't wanna see me famous
They rather see my moms make funeral arrangements
I got enough rhymes, to fill 6 notebooks

I been spittin' that shit ever since coke crushed
You can hear me on your T.V. and radio at the same time
I never ever say the same rhyme, it's Tony 2 times
Beware of my wraith, I'm gone school you niggas, prepare for class
Yo I peep where your puns at, peep where you pumped that
Money you tryin' to stack I spent it on blunt wraps

Word to my mother nigga 50 fuckin' Cent nigga, G-Unit nigga
We about to gorilla this industry man
Y'all niggas better know, y'all niggas better fear us nigga
Word to my mother nigga, fuck y'all niggas wanna do
1 2 4 nigga G-Unit, 50 Cent, Tony Yayo
Lloyd Banks nigga

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60c6808bc4bcbe6818e1c80056c487f3

Unit - Betta Ask Somebody - Lyrics - Beg For Mercy - G

Title: Unit - Betta Ask Somebody
Album: Beg For Mercy
Artist: G
Composer(s): C Jackson, D Brown, T Tellington, P.A. Dahan, J Dutton, C Lloyd

Lyric:
I know, you know
I'm, on, fire

If, you don't know, who I be
You betta ask somebody about me
Oh you wanna be tough nigga, a look is enough
I put that snub nose to ya and bust nigga

If, you don't know, who I be
You betta ask somebody about me
And they'll tell ya I'm a soldier boy
And I done told ya, over and over boy

I come from a big city, the streets corrupt
Now I'm rollin' with snub-noses to heat you up
Out here niggaz'll do anything to reach a buck
'Cause when you broke you can't afford to fuck ya sneakers up

I take my time, keep my mind on my bank funds
Learn how to separate the real from the fake ones
And on my heater Nina Rep what could I carry on
My nigga just lost his momma, and his daddy gone

From now on I can provide 'cause my paper's straight
Family losin' his legs, but I can take the weight
Some niggaz hate but I'll be damned if they hold me down
Front niggaz didn't know me then, bet they know me now

Blunt and a smile, eventually it'll be a frown
'Cause every time I turn around a nigga locked down
While I'm in the world, tryin' to bring my loot through
Hopin' one day we can kick it like we used to, my nigga

If, you don't know, who I be
You betta ask somebody about me
Oh you wanna be tough nigga, a look is enough
I put that snub nose to ya and bust nigga

If, you don't know, who I be
You betta ask somebody about me
And they'll tell ya I'm a soldier boy
And I done told ya, over and over boy

Uhh, they never seen 26's on a Hummer
My goal is to try to fuck Trina by the summer
Some niggaz hate me, but they only made me
Go and put mo' ice in my mouth than Baby

G-Unit and Shady, them dudes is crazy
Next time, we only usin' Dr. Dre's beats
Fuck you, pay me, take your magazine flicks
This ain't no Nelly Hurr, take a good look at this

Got the wrists of a chemist and the heart of a hustler
Plus I probably done robbed mo' artists than Russell
Always in trouble, you can blame my mother
Gave birth to a gorilla and raised him in the jungle

I ain't crawled, I stumbled across the Mexican with birds
Papi had coke and new plates and pounds of herb
Keep my hand on my glock and my ear to the streets
I'm a country boi, you can hear it when I speak, G-Unit!

If, you don't know, who I be
You betta ask somebody about me
Oh you wanna be tough nigga, a look is enough
I put that snub nose to ya and bust nigga

If, you don't know, who I be
You betta ask somebody about me
And they'll tell ya I'm a soldier boy
And I done told ya, over and over boy

Bentley is all dreams, G-5 is understood
I made a nigga heart colder than December
Don't take much to make my gun go off
One shot'll make a hard rock look oh so soft

If you don't know you betta ask who I be
Or end up in ICU gettin' fed through a IV
Down in the Lou', they say they feelin' me derrty
In New Orleans they say I'm that nigga, ya heard me?

From them South side blocks to Watts, West side don't front
You know about them Grape street Gangstas, G'd up rollin' that weed up
Nigga get outta line, get shot stabbed jacked
Hit with a bat or beat up

Fuck that, we're on that same bullshit
Same forty-Cally glock, same full clip
Pussy claat bwoy, ya nah wanna tak wif me
I'm a real rude bwoy, ya nah wanna ruf wif me, see

If, you don't know, who I be
You betta ask somebody about me
Oh you wanna be tough nigga, a look is enough
I put that snub nose to ya and bust nigga

If, you don't know, who I be
You betta ask somebody about me
And they'll tell ya I'm a soldier boy
And I done told ya, over and over boy

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6eedbecf0e43d904da4fb9dc6222dec4

Stranger - Lyrics - Rotten Apple - Lloyd Banks

Title: Stranger
Album: Rotten Apple
Artist: Lloyd Banks
Composer(s): Nicholas Marcell Speed, Christopher Charle Lloyd, Michael J Clervoix

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Uh, I'm doin' my thang, G-Unit's my gang
Ma, I gotta get mine, all the day all the time
N****, you know how we roll, twenty three's twenty four's
I'm holdin' my ground in case somethin' goes down

Uh, yeah don't fall for a big butt and a smile
They set ya up you f*** around have to buck in the crowd
Around my way, ain't sunshine ev'ryday
N****s'll cross ya, you should hear the slang they say

In a land of attitudes **'s and accidents
Where n****s split blunts eight ways and pack the b****
Mama spit me out with a spindle and I been mackin' since
And I'm stubborn, so I don't lean back and flinch

You're perpetratin', embarrasin' the crooks
Plus your frontin' they only seen Paris in the books
Whenever you leave the bricks watch the n****s you roll with
Before you know it n****s be shootin' up yo' s***

The clubs a fashion show, so n****s go get
And rev up all the broke n****s rockin' they old s***
Before the night is done they be another murder
So put your money to the side for another burner

Stranger, don't bring 'em 'round if I don't know 'em like that
I feel like it's targets all over my back
Because of these broads that's layin' over my lap
A n**** that young ain't 'sposed to live like that

I just saw the dealer and I'm goin' right back
Stashin' my g*** 'cause I know they might rat
I'm doin my thang, G-Unit's my gang

Uh, I'm frontin' in my G62's the yellow and royal blues
I'm better than all you dudes hot metal for all you fools
The one that n****s admire many study all my moves
And I'm focused 'cause I'm a end up bloody if I snooze

You a sucker for love or maybe I'm a bit different
If you ask me, is your baby mama's a pigeon?
I just bought the mansion and ma dukes pop the ribbon
And I'm out poppin' Cris b**** I'll show you how I'm livin'

I keep havin' them dreams 'bout n****s gettin' the drop on me
Lettin' them things fly up and down the block for me
True fear n****s don't feel ya they triflin'
But I adapt 'cause I used to think just like 'em

As soon as I hit the top I noticed the sudden change
It's probably the Maserati Ferrari, yeah the Range
This is South side street talk the hood slang
And my product, a open your nose like good Caine

Stranger, don't bring 'em 'round if I don't know 'em like that
I feel like it's targets all over my back
Because of these broads that's layin' over my lap
A n**** that young ain't 'sposed to live like that

I just saw the dealer and I'm goin' right back
Stashin' my g*** 'cause I know they might rat
I'm doin' my thang, G-Unit's my gang

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5ef6a0494964bacc37bfe0cffb95c7f7

Just Another Day - Lyrics - Lloyd Banks

Title: Just Another Day
Artist: Lloyd Banks
Composer(s): Tony Hester, Christopher Lloyd

Lyric:
Man, what the fuck are you lookin' for?
Can't a young nigga make money any more
Blow a couple grand in the NBA Store
Rock twenty-four thousand on the NBA floor

Niggaz be on stage bendin' over on tour
Leave anti-social with a case of lochjaw
Just 'cause shorty look good don't mean that you should go
Puttin' ice on the bitch like she won the Superbowl

Even the chips are low, for all these so-called old heads
Just ain't the same niggaz I used to know
I got a Houston ho, nah she ain't the sharpest knife
In the drawer but she a damn good booster though

See I could fuck a supermodel in my day of work
Send her home with a smile and a couple kids on her shirt
I got a year into the game
A 141 rocks layin' on my chain, geah

Just another day, chillin' in the hood
Just another day around the way
I'm tipsy off the Hennessy
We ridin' round with the HK, nigga we don't play

Just another day, chillin' in the hood
Just another day around the way
We smoke a quarter pound a day
G-Unit we here to stay, nigga we don't play

Nevermind the lames in my era, they all want me dead
And I know, it's all over the way I see bread
Here I go, caught up in some he say, she said
'Til I go, put a slug in my enemy's head

The Tahoe's, bulletproof so you can't get through
Then follow, your ass and whoever ran with you
And you about as assed-out as two jammed pistols
Bleedin' around a bunch of niggaz who can't fix you

So bring yours 'cause you know I got mine with me kid
The 8'll make you lose weight like Missy did
The O.G.'s tryin' to hide they phony smilin'
Reputation always arise in Coney Island

I'm at your local newsstand jerk
While the only XXL you been in as a shirt
And, speakin' of shirts, get a new white T
Goddamn it feels good to be me, nigga

Just another day, chillin' in the hood
Just another day around the way
I'm tipsy off the Hennessy
We ridin' round with the HK, nigga we don't play

Just another day, chillin' in the hood
Just another day around the way
We smoke a quarter pound a day
G-Unit we here to stay, nigga we don't play

Now I'm goin', shoppin' with a plastic card now
I'm growin', knockin' international broads down
They know him, they're not gonna even pat the star down
I'm holdin', a glock so don't even act that hard now

You might bust your gun but your gat's in the car clown
So break your lil' weed up and crack your cigars down
'Cause I ain't tryin' to start my visits with the fuckin' judge
Givin' niggaz life like it's parkin' tickets

Now I get to go to bed with a model
And the crib is 'bout as big as it is on the Belvedere bottle
I got all kind of ex' I could ram in they faces
Red and blue pills like the man in The Matrix

You might have spent some paper on your lil' charm
But my piece is 'bout as heavy as Lil' Jon cup
But, it's never tucked, nigga I don't give a fuck
I'll get bucked 'fore I give somethin' up, yup

Just another day, chillin' in the hood
Just another day around the way
I'm tipsy off the Hennessy
We ridin' round with the HK, nigga we don't play

Just another day, chillin' in the hood
Just another day around the way
We smoke a quarter pound a day
G-Unit we here to stay, nigga we don't play

[Unverified]

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3e2c25a08a55ea53d120583ef0ffee5d

Unit - G'D Up - Lyrics - Beg For Mercy - G

Title: Unit - G'D Up
Album: Beg For Mercy
Artist: G
Composer(s): Curtis Jackson, Christopher Lloyd, David Brown, Michael Elizondo, Scott Storch, Andre Young

Lyric:
Ah, yeah, uh huh

Ain't it amazing how crazy the hood done made me?
Feels like my emotions are froze
I stay G'd up
It's the things I done seen and the shit I been through
That make my heart turn cold
I stay G'd up

I'm a gangsta you find out for sure
If you ever step on my toes
I stay G'd up
When I'm hangin' out that window with that AK
Fillin' your punk ass with holes
I stay G'd up

Cocaine, heroin, ecstasy, marijuana
I'm mule on that Greyhound from N.Y. to the Carolina
Paper chase, different name, same face, don't catch a case
My road dog's on parole his baby girl's four years old
We play the block, pistol cocked, you could shoot or get shot
Kill you for your crack spot take everything your ass got
Semi-automatic spray, bust back or run away
Niggas talkin' in the hood, we'll handle this another day

In November you make my shit list if you did you can cancel Christmas
I'll send you a gift niggas'll come and leave your ass twisted
Them hollow tip shells burn baby burn
See niggas get merked up, babies born and the world turns
I seen it all crystal clear so I keep my pistol near
Heart's never full of fear, homie I stay well aware
Of what's going on around me, motherfuckers want me dead
I go wit a smile on my face when it's my time kid

Ain't it amazing how crazy the hood done made me?
Feels like my emotions are froze
I stay G'd up
It's the things I done seen and the shit I been through
That make my heart turn cold
I stay G'd up

I'm a gangsta you find out for sure
If you ever step on my toes
I stay G'd up
When I'm hangin' out that window with that AK
Fillin' your punk ass with holes

Lil' niggas I done paved the way, y'all should thank 'em
But if you think otherwise bring your boy over here so I can spank 'im
I'll put an end to your career bitch
Before you speak on 50, buy a .40 and a spare clip
These niggas gassed up, gettin' to used to rap
Like I won't give 'em more bloodclots than supercat
Niggas'll snatch ya, I'm like a bat catcher
I'll give a sign and and then throw somethin' at ya

Round here niggas die off hydro
And even when it ain't 4th of July it sound like pyro
You smart enough to creep then lay your dumb brains down
The pound'll spin you around like the young James Brown
Yeah, I know I'm hot but hey, I'm icy too
Rocks'll hit you from a block away like a beat from Dr. Dre
We're takin over this year, K's and the soldiers is here
Everyone knows it's a scare, yeah

Ain't it amazing how crazy the hood done made me?
Feels like my emotions are froze
I stay G'd up
It's the things I done seen and the shit I been through
That make my heart turn cold
I stay G'd up

I'm a gangsta you find out for sure
If you ever step on my toes
I stay G'd up
When I'm hangin' out that window with that AK
Fillin' your punk ass with holes

My Papa never bothered to show me what it was to be a man
He'd just pop another bottle and smoke up a half a gram
I would hop in my Impala and ride all through the night
They gave my homeboy life so when you do it, do it right
My fingernails still filled with cocaine residue
I still got the heart to go and bust me a head or two
No other solution you think we hollerin' and hootin'
Until you wake up and then you got to hear 'bout these shootings

I take a pull from a loose one and put the clip in my pocket
Before I take another bullet I'm gonna pull it and pop it
And if it's beef my nigga, then let your guns do your talkin'
The graveyard has got plenty room for a coffin
They say that we responsible for boostin' the crime rate
They say that we the reason that these young niggas buyin' weight
But I'm gonna keep this glock on my waist 'til my dyin' days
It's nuttin' but a G thang, G-Unit and Dr. Dre

Ain't it amazing how crazy the hood done made me?
Feels like my emotions are froze
I stay G'd up
It's the things I done seen and the shit I been through
That make my heart turn cold
I stay G'd up

I'm a gangsta you find out for sure
If you ever step on my toes
I stay G'd up
When I'm hangin' out that window with that AK
Fillin' your punk ass with holes
I stay G'd up

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Special - Lyrics - The Documentary - Game

Title: Special
Album: The Documentary
Artist: Game
Composer(s): M Flower, Khari Cain, M Elizondo, Curtis Jackson, J Taylor, Andre Young, Rick Wakeman

Lyric:
Ah man game don't tell me you love her
I mean I like the bitch I don't love her
Next thing you know you gun be all
Boogo upped with her and shit, fuck that

Girl I'll do anything to make you feel special
Man it's easy to see you special to me
Weather we lovers or friends we'll always be
I want you to know, your special

Girl I'll do anything to make you feel special
Man it's easy to see you special to me
Weather we lovers or friends we'll always be
I want you to know, your special

L.A.X. to J.F.K. that's where it all happened
Caught you walkin' out that Gucci store in Manhattan
I was in chains and cuffs, you was withcha girls
I was in that aftermath chain, you was in pearls
It was me against the world, baby girl you had dreams of startdiling
The Prince of Compton meets the Queen of Harlem
First date at Mr. Choas it was Cushier? I would coach ya
La Pearl, Gucci's, Lou, Finde, Prada, Douche

Runnin' circles in my living room, tearing up sofas
McLaren or Rover, fuck it ma let's tear up the highway
Let the sprewells spin till the plates fell off
Then we could go 1 on 1 at Dre's house
Jeans painted with the waist cut out
You rockin' the fly way that lil' bit of Compton
Mixed with bed sty way and girl I'm not trying to excite you
I'm tryna wife you, bamboo earing, white air Nike you, ya

Girl I'll do anything to make you feel special
Man it's easy to see you special to me
Weather we lovers or friends we'll always be
I want you to know, your special

Girl I'll do anything to make you feel special
Man it's easy to see you special to me
Weather we lovers or friends we'll always be
I want you to know, your special

I like your style, like the way you move, the way you talk
The way you smile, the way you swingin' them hips when you walk
The way you look, the way you ride when you workin' them thighs
The way you licken your lips when you look in my eyes
You down for me, I'm down for you you go down on me
I'll go down on you I wanna do all the things that your man won't do

I'm from the hood, so I know how to handle you
Keep you in pink rocks and G-unit canvas shoes
Show you how to gangsta lean when the lambo move
I'll take you to New York city, Atlanta too
Show you how to fly them birds and them hammers through
And you know

Girl I'll do anything to make you feel special
Man it's easy to see you special to me
Weather we lovers or friends we'll always be
I want you to know, your special

Girl I'll do anything to make you feel special
Man it's easy to see you special to me
Weather we lovers or friends we'll always be
I want you to know, your special

Let me tell you bout the birds and bees
How I stand on the block all day and flip birds and keys
Your boyfriend don't like me, 'cause he don't get a fourth
Of my cheese and you can take back the Porsche and his keys
Hop in the Range Rover, you ain't gotta force him to leave
I gotta chrome four four on my jeans you got Gucci frame
Covering the mark on your face, 'cause he don't want you
To leave and I don't want you to stay, sometimes I wanna

Snatch that nigga out the CLK, I know he treating you like
K-CIi did Mary J I wanna ease ya pain, kick off your Lou sandles
Let me, whip your tears with my G-unit bandanna
Make me wanna peal you out them jeans when you rockin' 'em
It's 'Me and my girlfriend' like Tupac and them
Jay-z and Beyonce or Bobby and Whitney
We the oh 5 bonnie and Clyde, you feel me

Girl I'll do anything to make you feel special
Man it's easy to see you special to me
Weather we lovers or friends we'll always be
I want you to know, your special

Girl I'll do anything to make you feel special
Man it's easy to see you special to me
Weather we lovers or friends we'll always be
I want you to know, your special

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bb720f6951ba1d95bb9a8ece7fe64c99

Warrior Part 2 - Lyrics - Lloyd Banks

Title: Warrior Part 2
Artist: Lloyd Banks
Composer(s): Nathaniel D. Hale, Marshall Mathers, Curtis James Jackson, Christopher Charle Lloyd, S. King, Luis Edgardo Resto

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Remix
Lloyd Banks

It's like a throne that he don't even own
He won't sit down, given the crown he just throws it around
It's like a joke he's like a king but he don't rule a thing
He don't want the diamonds, want the gold or want the jewelry

He don't want the fame, don't want the lute he's in it for a sport
Runnin' suckaz where there's competition 'round the court
He appreciates your support but he ain't beggin' for it
And you can't love it, you can hate it but you can't ignore it

You can't be that ignorant but you can try to sell him short
But you can't fuck with his last joint or the one before it
And he was gonna raise hell like them country boys
And if I'm frontin' then you better come confront me for it

This is the story of a warrior I know you know it
True warriors go ahead and make some noise
It ain't healthy to be makin' niggaz paranoid
Hit your corner wit' more weapon, I don't need my boyz

I'm doin' 120 in the fast lane
Kick back, just relax, let me do my thang
Don't give a fuck about you suckas gotta maintain
Money, power and respect in this rap game

He's straight outta the neighborhood but niggaz hate
They see you go and eat your dinner off a bigger plate
Your stomachs ache while he's loungin' at the big estate
And he hops in a hundred thousand with a nigga's gate

House with just a bigger gate, houndin' him was a big mistake
He wont surrender, he'll rather give up a rib to break
'Cuz he remembers when they wouldn't lend a helpin' hand
So he was sittin' on green like a Celtic fan

Created a buzz so when you gotta mention his name
When you discussin' the illest playa that's in the game
And he's ridin' with Em, 50 cent, Doc and them
G Unit records ain't no motherfuckin' stoppin' them

This is the story of a warrior I know you know it
True warriors go ahead and make some noise
It ain't healthy to be makin' niggaz paranoid
Hit your corner wit' more weapon, I don't need my boyz

I'm doin' 120 in the fast lane
Kick back, just relax, let me do my thang
Don't give a fuck about you suckas gotta maintain
Money, power and respect in this rap game

He's no magician, man, the kid makes somethin' outta nuthin'
So now niggaz from this hood act like we owe 'em somethin'
They talk crazy till we send niggas through there to buck 'em
Ask 'em if there's a problem and they'll say, "Naw its nothin'"

He was gonna help 'em out, but since they fronted, fuck 'em
He dont care how they feel, they can hate him or love him
He hold it down on his own the kid is really thuggin'
He's rich now, he ain't change so niggaz think he buggin'

He bullet proof everything in case niggaz try and buff him
Keep two pistols on this hip I show you where he tuck 'em
Niggaz say they gon' get at him but they can't touch him
Try to catch 'em slippin', they creepin' and he start bustin'

This is the story of a warrior I know you know it
True warriors go ahead and make some noise
It ain't healthy to be makin' niggaz paranoid
Hit your corner wit' more weapon, I don't need my boyz

I'm doin' 120 in the fast lane
Kick back, just relax, let me do my thang
Don't give a fuck about you suckas gotta maintain
Money, power and respect in this rap game

I can give you niggaz' somethin' you can talk about
I can turn your smile upside down
You ain't no G-Unit fuckin' clown
I can take your girl until I turn her out

Don't hold it in, let it all out
I can give you fuckers somethin' to be mad about
Invite her in send her back out
With my DNA all in her mouth

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1928156af8b87c158da09685c2c35fc2

G'D Up - Lyrics - 50 Cent

Title: G'D Up
Artist: 50 Cent
Composer(s): Curtis Jackson, Christopher Lloyd, David Brown, Michael Elizondo, Scott Storch, Andre Young

Lyric:
Ain't it amazing how crazy the hood done made me?
Feels like my emotions are froze, I stay G'D up
It's the things I done seen and shit I been through
That make my heart turn cold, I stay G'D up

I'm a gangsta, you find out for sure
If you ever step on my toes, I stay G'D up
When I'm hangin' out that window with that AK
Fillin' your punk ass with holes, I stay G'D up

Cocaine, heroin, ecstasy, marijuana
I'm mule on that Greyhound from NY to the Carolina
Paper chase, different name, same face, don't catch a case
My road dog's on parole, his baby girl's four years old

We play the block, pistol cocked, you could shoot or get shot
Kill you for your crack spot, take everything your ass got
Semi-automatic spray, bust back or run away
Niggas talkin' in the hood, we'll handle this another day

In November, you make my shit that should dead you
You can catch for Christmas, I'll send you a gift
Niggas'll come and leave your ass twisted
Them hollow tip shells, burn, baby, burn
See niggas get merked up, babies born and the world turn

I seen it all crystal clear, so, I keep my pistol near
Heart's never full of fear, homie, I stay well aware
Of what's going on around me, motherfuckers want me dead
I go wit a smile on my face when it's my time, kid

Ain't it amazing how crazy the hood done made me?
Feels like my emotions are froze, I stay G'D up
It's the things I done seen and shit I been through
That make my heart turn cold, I stay G'D up

I'm a gangsta, you find out for sure
If you ever step on my toes, I stay G'D up
When I'm hangin' out that window with that AK
Fillin' your punk ass with holes

Lil nigga, I done paved the way, y'all should thank 'em
But if you think otherwise, bring your boy over here, so I can spank 'em
I'll put an end to your career, bitch
Before you speak on 50, buy a .40 and a spare clip

These niggas gassed up, gettin' to used to rap
Like I won't give 'em more bloodclots than Supercat
Niggas'll snatch ya, I'm like a bat catcher
I'll give a sign and they post somethin' at cha

'Round here, niggas die of hydro
And even when it ain't 4th of July, it sound like pyro
You smart enough to creep then lay your dumb brains down
The pound'll spin you around like the young James Brown
I know I'm hot but, hey, I'm icy too

Rocks'll ll hit you from a block away like a beat from Dr. Dre
We're takin' over this year, K's and the soldiers is here
Everyone knows it's a scare

Ain't it amazing how crazy the hood done made me?
Feels like my emotions are froze, I stay G'D up
It's the things I done seen and shit I been through
That make my heart turn cold, I stay G'D up

I'm a gangsta, you find out for sure
If you ever step on my toes, I stay G'D up
When I'm hangin' out that window with that AK
Fillin' your punk ass with holes

My papa never bothered to show me what it was to be a man
He'd just pop another bottle and smoke up a half a gram
I would hop in my Impala and ride all through the night
That gave my homeboy light, so when you do it, do it right

My fingernails still filled with cocaine residue
I still got the heart to go and bust me a head or two
No other solution, you think we hollerin and hootin'
Until you wake up and then you got ta hear 'bout these shootings

I take a pull from [Incomprehensible] when he put the clip in my pocket
Before I take another bullet, I'm gonna pull it and pop it
And if it's beef my nigga, then let your guns do your talkin'
The graveyard has got plenty room for a coffin

They say that we responsible for boostin' the crime rate
They say that we the reason that these young niggas buyin' weight
But I'm gonna keep this glock on my waist 'til my dayin' days
It's nuttin' but a G thang, G-Unit and Dr. Dre

Ain't it amazing how crazy the hood done made me?
Feels like my emotions are froze, I stay G'D up
It's the things I done seen and shit I been through
That make my heart turn cold, I stay G'D up

I'm a gangsta, you find out for sure
If you ever step on my toes, I stay G'D up
When I'm hangin' out that window with that AK
Fillin' your punk ass with holes, I stay G'D up

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64d8350d7c0760c14e7d4a0e82de120e

P.I.M.P. (G-Unit Remix) - Lyrics - 50 Cent

Title: P.I.M.P. (G-Unit Remix)
Artist: 50 Cent
Composer(s): Brandon Parrott, Curtis Jackson, Denaun Porter

Lyric:
I don't know what you heard about me
But a bitch can't get a dollar out of me
No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see
That I'm a motherfucking P I M P

I don't know what you heard about me
But a bitch can't get a dollar out of me
No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see
That I'm a motherfucking P I M P

Now shorty, she in the club, she dancing for dollars
She got a thing for that Gucci, that Fendi, that Prada
That BCBG, Burberry, Dolce and Gabana
She feed them foolish fantasies, they pay her 'cause they wanna

I spit a little G man and my game got her
A hour later, have that ass up in the Ramada
Them trick niggas in her ear saying they think about her
I got the bitch by the bar trying to get a drink up out her

She like my style, she like my smile, she like the way I talk
She from the country, think she like me 'cause I'm from New York
I ain't that nigga trying to holla 'cause I want some head
I'm that nigga trying to holla 'cause I want some bread

I could care less how she perform when she in the bed
Bitch hit that track, catch a date, and come and pay the kid
Look baby this is simple, you can't see
You fucking with me, you fucking with a P I M P

I don't know what you heard about me
But a bitch can't get a dollar out of me
No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see
That I'm a motherfucking P I M P

I don't know what you heard about me
But a bitch can't get a dollar out of me
No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see
That I'm a motherfucking P I M P

I'm 'bout my money you see, girl you can holla at me
If you fucking with me, I'm a P I M P
Not what you see on TV, no Cadillac, no greasy
Head full of hair, bitch I'm a P I M P

Come get money with me, if you curious to see
How it feels to be with a P I M P
Roll in the Benz with me, you could watch TV
From the backseat of my V, I'm a P I M P

Girl we could pop some champagne and we could have a ball
We could toast to the good life, girl we could have it all
We could really splurge girl and tear up the mall
If ever you needed someone, I'm the one you should call

I'll be there to pick you up, if ever you should fall
If you got problems, I can solve 'em, they big or they small
That other nigga you be with ain't 'bout shit
I'm your friend, your father, and confidant, bitch

I don't know what you heard about me
But a bitch can't get a dollar out of me
No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see
That I'm a motherfucking P I M P

I don't know what you heard about me
But a bitch can't get a dollar out of me
No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see
That I'm a motherfucking P I M P

I told you fools before, I stay with the tools
I keep a Benz, some rims and some jewels
I holla at a hoe 'til I got a bitch confused
She got on Payless, me I got on Gator shoes

I'm shopping for chinchillas, in the summer they cheaper
Man this hoe you can have her, when I'm done I ain't gon' keep her
Man, bitches come and go, every nigga pimpin' know
You saying it's secret, but you ain't gotta keep it on the low

Bitch choose with me, I'll have you stripping in the street
Put my other hoes down, you get your ass beat
Now Nik my bottom bitch, she always come up with my bread
The last nigga she was with put stitches in her head

Get your hoe out of pocket, I'll put a charge on a bitch
'Cause I need 4 TVs and A M G's for the six
Hoe make a pimp rich, I ain't paying bitch
Catch a date, suck a dick, shit, trick

I don't know what you heard about me
But a bitch can't get a dollar out of me
No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see
That I'm a motherfucking P I M P

I don't know what you heard about me
But a bitch can't get a dollar out of me
No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see
That I'm a motherfucking P I M P

Yeah, in Hollywood they say there's no business like show business
In the hood they say, there's no business like hoe business ya know
They say I talk a lil' fast, but if you listen a lil' faster
I ain't gotta slow down for you to catch up, bitch, ha ha ha yeah

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a80c9c41a699b834ef22a1dd249d0398

Touching Everything - Lyrics - Bred 2 Die Born 2 Live - Lil Scrappy

Title: Touching Everything
Album: Bred 2 Die Born 2 Live
Artist: Lil Scrappy
Composer(s): Zak Wallace, Jasiel Robinson, Phalon Alexander, Darryl Richardson

Lyric:
I'm in the street yeah, Scrappy touchin' ev'rything
I'm in the mall, man Scrappy snatchin' ev'rything
When I'm in the club, catch me smokin', drinkin' ev'rything
Swear to God I ain't lyin', man I put that there on ev'rything

You already, you already know
You, you already, you already know, woah
You already, you already know
(It's your boy scrap)
You, you already, you already know

Soon as I wake up I'ma say my prayers
Then I look up in my closet to see what I'm gon' wear
I got the gees up shirt, got the gees up chain
Got the g-unit shoes that's what I'm talin' 'bout mayne

I hit the shower, hit the charger, put the key up in the starter
Hit the mall a with my niggas
Get the broad up, bend the cone then I holla
Fukin' hardest 'cause I'm a mothafukin' balla

I'm gangsta that's what it is and you gon' love it
Fuck, bein' on TV I'ma show my ass in public
Shorty its nutin', you know the young nigga buckin'
You ask about me shorty and this what they say

I'm the wildest young nigga in the A, shonuff
Throwin' money in the bay 'cause I'm paid, hold up
I went and spent 45 on my mouth, cut it
Now, 45 thous, damn, shorty just look at my smile, hey

I'm in the street yeah, Scrappy touchin' ev'rything
I'm in the mall, man Scrappy snatchin' ev'rything
When I'm in the club, catch me smokin', drinkin' ev'rything
Swear to God I ain't lyin', man I put that there on ev'rything

So what it is, man you already know what it is
What's the deal, you already what it is
Now what it is, you already know what it is
What it is, you already know what it is

You can catch me in the club gettin' drunk as usual
The ol' wildin' nigga just be so crucial
A couple a groupies wit some big ass booties
Sloppy ass drunk tryin' do sometin' to me

I'm like, baby doll hold up getcha mind right
I'm lookin' at your face, yeah I mean you right
Your body off the chain but your head fine
Say you ain't a freak, you's a goddamn liar

Hey, I'm on the goose, tryin' to get loose
Gotta squad full of niggas that'll get at you
Don't get me wrong my nigga on that role down home
Even though we in the club, you can get that chrome

I see you poppin' at the mouth, who you talkin' 'bout
I ain't got bread at the house, now who you talkin' 'bout
All that mean muggin' and that mumblin', who you talkin' 'bout
When I start bussin', start runnin', that's what I'm talkin' 'bout

I'm in the street yeah, Scrappy touchin' ev'rything
I'm in the mall, man Scrappy snatchin' ev'rything
When I'm in the club, catch me smokin', drinkin' ev'rything
Swear to God I ain't lyin', man I put that there on ev'rything

So what it is, man you already know what it is
What's the deal, you already what it is
Now what it is, you already know what it is
What it is, you already know what it is

Now, when you back touchin' your stomach, I can teach her sunumics
A hundred miles and runnin', release who ever done it
Them haters make me run it, wishin' my sales plumb it
Oh, yeah, they mad 'cause I hit the mo'fukin' block gunnin'

Stuntin', put them wheels on them 26's
Bitches, one to the truck to see who in it
A minute, his limo tinted watch what you sayin' nigga
Oh yeah, we make plays, the radio we ain't playin' nigga

The kush and the peels, I got it
I put the push to the deal, I got it
Eight karat Bently on the wrist, how 'bout it
I bought the coop just to match and hop out it

Yeah, I mean every word
Gotta machine with a bean that'll clean your whole curb
Scrap and tell 'em, we gee'd up
From the feet up, the block need us

I'm in the street yeah, Scrappy touchin' ev'rything
I'm in the mall, man Scrappy snatchin' ev'rything
When I'm in the club, catch me smokin', drinkin' ev'rything
Swear to God I ain't lyin', man I put that there on ev'rything

So what it is, man you already know what it is
What's the deal, you already what it is
Now what it is, you already know what it is
Then what it is, you already know what it is, hey

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9f82ec14f797b9bfdebe40483de48675

Apostle'S Warning - Lyrics - Hell On Earth - Mobb Deep

Title: Apostle'S Warning
Album: Hell On Earth
Artist: Mobb Deep
Composer(s): Albert J Johnson, Kejuan Muchita

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Uhh God, uhh, y'know what we gotta do son!
Y'know hu tI'm sayin' Word up! Make that millions fam!
No doubt! It's only there for the takings son
Matter of fact let me get some of that beer son
We drunk all that shit, hey yo!

44th Side convention, Queens connection the Bridge be rep'tin
Any party that we step in get they heady-up
V S O P immediately, extra bent Rob then out son is evident
We stash cream, mansions fulfill my dream

Ice 'reams gleam, spread love throughout the whole team
Dominate the game, let's have a rule, combinations
No conversation, bring all ya good confrontation
You hesitatin, ass spittin, that's bad business

For the game nigga, get out the business
You waste space, substitute here's the briefcase
We deface, smack the smile off ya fuckin' face
Tainted taste, send ya home back to vacate
Get your shit together plus your mind straight

Yo my empire strikes with the strength of poisonous snakes
My entire unit loaded up with snake niggas that hire stakes
We pull off a high stakes, great escapes, expand, shift team downstate
Dreams are growing over and my son'll live great

Little man I'm plannin to enhance your mindstate
The rebirth, a nigga who lived an ill life
The one before me was of an even more trife
My understandin, I'll raise you with precise plannin

And put you on to the whole game of this planet
But I gotta survive in order to follow thru plans to live lot-o
Me and my lil' getgo, any man tryin to stop us he get wet-o
He couldn't withstand the snake bite, there is no hanky

Don't you put your hands too close and try to approach
I won't snap at you I'm goin for throats
And when you feel my bite 'cha sing high notes
I peeped you from deep and then you got cut throats

My formula I live life do or die
Stare into the eyes of a deep wiseguy
Prodigy turnin' niggas to protoges
My protege I advise ya ass to make way

Make way for fully-auto gun spray
You're small prey, I'll easily bait and trap yea
This man is half mad scientist-half sane
Creative rhyme labyrinth like poisonous cannabis

Here take a toke of this daily rare roackalist
Overpower y'all, tiny noise like locust
Like sunlight through a magnifying glass I'll focus em
Burn a hole straight through ya brain and leave ya open
(Oh shit!)

And let the venom soak in you start sweatin' a
And goin' through convulsions from dope shit I write
Leavin' niggas stuck, I let spit
Trapped up in a web of a nigga that's sick

I'll wrap you up in cocoon, you caught up in the midst
As dangerous as risky business fuckin' with this
Contender number one I put you on top of the list
You're the best challenger so far I'll give you this

But peep this, what? Fatal shots that soloplex
Man down, now who dares to go next?
Like General Monk monk orders to chop necks
I send a message to my whole clique to bomb shit

Atomic, no time for calm shit
We hyperactive and it's time for Vietnam bit
Ya whole alliance gets single handedly bomb-ded
Take heed to the apostle's warning word up!

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c47c6b57b423bb87558a6f408e530946

Born Alone, Die Alone - Lyrics - Lloyd Banks

Title: Born Alone, Die Alone
Artist: Lloyd Banks
Composer(s): Raeford Gerald, Christopher Lloyd, K Muchita

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
I came in this world by myself, so I don't need no friends
I'd rather have it this way, it's okay, it's okay
You muh'fuckers gon' respect me, 'cause I can take you off her today
I'd rather have it that way, it's okay, it's okay

Uhh, I'm on the prowl with the hammer, hardly smile at the camera
Too many niggaz is dyin', I'm spendin' time with my grandma
A hundred grand in the safe's, a hundred grand on your face
A million plus in the bank, will scuff in the paint

You handcuffin' that bitch, she don't wanna be wit'chu
All she want is your chips, my lil' nigga beat it too
Sneak the heaters through, so we can party good
Grandson of Edith Rue, born out in Hollywood

The Boy Wonder will unravel your team
I'm TRL next to Avril Lavigne, all my karats are green
The buddha is purple, be rude and I hurt you
You're movin' in circles, we do it all, movies commercials

Stadiums clubs, ladies and thugs, the hood to the burbs
I'm on the red carpet 'cause I'm good with my words
I'm ready for war and stackin' my chips, you flappin' your lips
You niggaz ain't even hood rich

I came in this world by myself, so I don't need no friends
I'd rather have it this way, it's okay, it's okay
You muh'fuckers gon' respect me, 'cause I can take you off her today
I'd rather have it that way, it's okay, it's okay

Keep your circle official, watch the niggaz that's wit'chu
Outsiders'll get you, hot shit in your tissue
All I need is my figures, I ain't stressin' no hoe
Ridin 'round with my niggaz, hand crushin' that 'dro

50 made me a star, now they know who we are
Out on top of the charts, your condo is my car
Income is my chain, stashbox is my watch
I'm fairly new in the game, I ain't passin' the rock

All I'm sensin' is hate, ever since I been straight
'Cause they stuck in the hood, hand crumbs on they plate
And I'm strappin' the nine, in case they wanna combine
Gather up on a nigga, I ain't rappin' no line

Keep your eye on your money, stop eyeballin' mine
You drop somethin' every year, flop all of the time
Stop makin' your records, I ain't answerin' shit
Why don't you get off my dick?

I came in this world by myself, so I don't need no friends
I'd rather have it this way, it's okay, it's okay
You muh'fuckers gon' respect me, 'cause I can take you off her today
I'd rather have it that way, it's okay, it's okay

It's okay nigga
I don't need no friends
I got money
G-Unit

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67e332e8dc6b6aab88461112c74d4d5b

Da Industry - Lyrics - Wyclef Jean

Title: Da Industry
Artist: Wyclef Jean
Composer(s): William Weatherspoon, Wyclef Nel Jean, Paul Riser, James Dean, Jerry Duplessis

Lyric:
Yeah I wanna dedicate this to everybody that love hip hop music
'Cause without hip hop music I wouldn't be here today
Preacher's son, yeah

Imagine if Biggie and Pac never got shot
And they both still was rulers of hip hop
And Puffy and Suge was roommates from college
And Big L never got found in the alley
Nas and Jay-Z they were still homies
Squash the beef with Ja Rule and 50

Benzino shook hands with Eminem
And on the same record I heard Eve, Fox and Kim
And sometimes when I dream, that's when I wake up
I kinda hoped that the Fugees didn't break up
And when they walked into the studio I prayed they didn't spray
'Cause I miss that scratch from Jam Master Jay

Shots go off, mother's cry, death since rise, homicide
Black on black crime needs to stop, y'all can't blame it on hip hop
'Cause what we say is what we see and what we see is reality
The ghettos, the ghettos, you got them livin' in sorrow
Soon they won't live to see tomorrow

Imagine if Big Pun was still alive
I could see Fat Joe screamin' terror squad
Imagine if there was four survivors still in Destiny's Child
And TLC never lost they Left Eye
Imagine Refugees never needin' a passport

And John Forte never at Newark airport
Million Man March, man, that was a start
Now I need a million more to meet me at Central Park
When the revolution start y'all gon' have to play this
Imagine Slick Rick not gettin' deported

Shots go off, mother's cry, death since rise, homicide
Black on black crime needs to stop, y'all can't blame it on hip hop
'Cause what we say is what we see and what we see is reality
The ghettos, the ghettos, you got them livin' in sorrow
Soon they won't live to see tomorrow

In the club never though Shyne shot the gun
But in the limousine JLO had to run
Paparazzi snappin' shots through the mirror
That's when I saw a smile from Princess Diana
Back and forth and forth and back

Like Miss Aaliyah man do I miss her
The war goes on with The ROC and The Lox
Murder INC, G-Unit it's a fight to the top
Stop, we lost too many soldiers like Freaky Tah
While they get the cover of a magazine, who got to die?

Shots go off, mother's cry, death since rise, homicide
Black on black crime needs to stop, y'all can't blame it on hip hop
'Cause what we say is what we see and what we see is reality
The ghettos, the ghettos, you got them livin' in sorrow
Soon they won't live to see tomorrow

Yeah, peace be with y'all
Live to see tomorrow
Live to see tomorrow
Live to see tomorrow
Live to see tomorrow

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The Re-Up - Lyrics - Eminem

Title: The Re-Up
Artist: Eminem
Composer(s): Marshall B Mathers Iii, Andre Romell Young, Curtis James Jackson, Michael A Elizondo Jr., Luis Edgardo Resto

Lyric:
We should do something like that

Boom boom chuck, boom b-boom chuck
Boom boom chuck, yeah, that's what's up
Boom boom chuck, boom b-boom chuck
Boom boom chuck, b-boom, Shady

There's never been this, much of a menace in this game as this
And it's the, most sinister duo in the business
Once again it's the illest and realest killas
The most villainous Dre protege, Shady apprentice

Drop them zeros and get with these heroes
Do you want losers or winners, this music is in us, and it's
Not over 'til we say it's finished and G-Unit spinners
Will keep spinnin', this is hip hop when it's in it's

Truest form, the greatest, hate us or love us
Make voodoo dolls of us and keep stickin' them pins in us
Thick as his skin is or as short as his wick is
The trick is to be able to walk big as his dick is

And as sick as his music is, or was, still is
Whatever, forever, he will be the illest
To ever sh-shock the world, what to do next
He's already reconciled with his ex a chainsaw and an axe

Jump a bitch's desk, strangle her neck
While we have sex while Bill Clinton plays the sax
I sprays the vex, yeah, bring Shady on back
The maniac of rap, devil baby on crack

Resurrect, I never left, baby I'm bad
I've gone mad, my comrade Drezy automatically
He says I'm too broke to fix, way beyond that
I may be off drugs, but it's made me off track

In fact, this right here very well could be the last rap
I ever do spit, I'll never do shit, that's that
Fuck it I quit, suck on a dick, jackass
I'm done with this wack ass rap, kiss my black ass, 50 Cent

Nah, 'em, tell 'em to kiss my black ass
The clean parts, the shitty parts
My bullet wounds, my beauty marks
The Fif'll tell you're ass apart

A came in this game
Crush a motherfuckers from tha start
Shady paid me, Shady crazy
Fifty crazy rich, bitch

Different day, nothing change, it's the same shit, trick
Teflon wrapped on case I get clapped on
D's searching the whip, glad I left the mac home
Still grindin', still shinin', nigga lord knows

You're rockin' with the kid that spit sicka sick flows
I carried Game's style for nine months and gave birth to it
Now I'm feeling like a proud father watching him do it
E'eryday Dre day, front and 'cause a maylay

Turn the town upside down wit a frown upside down
I smile through sumthin' fowl, and watch my money pile
I'm fuckin' with strict stacks, I'm kickin' you stripped fats
I hit you with it, bag it, pump it, bring me mines right back

Boom boom chuck, boom b-boom chuck
Boom boom chuck, go 'head, funky funk up
Boom boom chuck, boom b-boom chuck
Boom boom chuck, yeah, that's what's up

Boom boom chuck, boom b-boom chuck
Boom boom chuck, I hit yo' ass up
Boom boom chuck, boom b-boom chuck
Boom boom chuck, yeah, that's what's up

Boom boom chuck, boom b-boom chuck
Boom boom chuck, it's the re-up

Shady

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Unit - Baby U Got - Lyrics - Beg For Mercy - G

Title: Unit - Baby U Got
Album: Beg For Mercy
Artist: G
Composer(s): Christopher Lloyde, Curtis James Jackson, David Darnell Brown, Dorsey Wesley

Lyric:
Baby you got, you got
You got, you got what I want
Baby you got, you got
You got, you got what I need
Now shake that thang
Shake it, shake it, shake it, shake it up
Girl shake that thang
Shake it, shake it, shake it, shake it up

(Baby you got)
Hips that hypnotize
When you walk I can't help
But watch you shake
I love the way you shake
(Baby you got)
Hips that make a nigga fantasize
I could spend a day lost in your eyes

(Baby you got)
Some kind of control on me
Feels like you got a hold on me
(Baby you got)
My imagination running wild
Infatuated with your physical
Damn, I like your style

It's somethin' about your style
It's somethin' about your smile
It's somethin' about you making me want you right now
If you don't like me, then don't listen to me
Lord knows I spit that G
That have you coming out your clothes
I'm a professional when I become sexual
You need a chaperone to bring your girlfriend next to you
Don't it sound like phone sex
Kinky when I talk switch the slang

Partner tell that nigga from New York
Shorty, come ride on my roller coaster
Porn star stamina, I try not to damage ya
Unlimited tongue action 'til you're climaxin'
Foreplay, you can have it your way
I follow directions, whoa, your jiggling baby
Back shots have your whole back wiggling crazy
After sipping on Nightrain, that potent pipe game
I have you saying "Slow down baby"

(Baby you got)
Hips that hypnotize
When you walk I can't help
But watch you shake
I love the way you shake
(Baby you got)
Hips that make a nigga fantasize
I could spend a day lost in your eyes

(Baby you got)
Some kind of control on me
Feels like you got a hold on me
(Baby you got)
My imagination running wild
Infatuated with your physical
Damn, I like your style

Baby it's hard to look and don't touch
Girl the way you strut and dressed in your Von Dutch
I don't know if it's your lips or your hips that got me
Or the way that ass bounce when you move your body
I'm parked outside in the blue Denali
There's room for two, just me and you, if you 'bout it
Ice from Tiffany & Co., Norma Kamali footwear
I spend g's, I'm a G, that's a good look girl

You need a thug that can handle that
One dose'll make you go
And put my name on your back
Whenever you pass through, whatever they ask you
Just tell 'em you my boo
And show 'em your tattoo
Ooh! Don't hurt nobody baby
When you drop to the ground and drive me crazy
I done been around the world, and I finally found ya
Now back that ass up and let me get behind ya

(Baby you got)
Hips that hypnotize
When you walk I can't help
But watch you shake
I love the way you shake
(Baby you got)
Hips that make a nigga fantasize
I could spend a day lost in your eyes

(Baby you got)
Some kind of control on me
Feels like you got a hold on me
(Baby you got)
My imagination running wild
Infatuated with your physical
Damn, I like your style

Baby you've got a hell of a first impression
Making me wanna ask you a personal question
Like, "Are you flexible?" and "How do you like it?"
Give me a little input, I'm not a psychic
'Cuz you can exit as soon as you get the okay
You got a body like Nicole Ray, hey
I need a drink, I'll be right back
But before I go, do that little dance
Yeah, just like that

It's late, I have to score
"This blue drink tastes good, don't it?"
"Sure it does, now have some more"
I'm deep, but she got her ladies with her
So bring 'em, I'll call ya a babysitter
So we can hit the hotel, motel, Holiday Inn
I'm contemplatin' how my time's spent
'Cuz I'm bent, and I'm as hard as a brick, love
You move like you work in a strip club

(Baby you got)
Hips that hypnotize
When you walk I can't help
But watch you shake
I love the way you shake
(Baby you got)
Hips that make a nigga fantasize
I could spend a day lost in your eyes

(Baby you got)
Some kind of control on me
Feels like you got a hold on me
(Baby you got)
My imagination running wild
Infatuated with your physical
Damn, I like your style

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