"Aye you want some of this shit"
"No, I don't want that shit"
"I don't give a fuck, I don't play that shit"
"And I'm fin'nin to buss a cap in a nigga"
"Man shut the fuck up"
"Whoa slow down, slow down, slow down"
"You see that brick house right there"
"That's the nigga crib when he come out you gotta tighten his ass up"
"I'ma get in the other car"
"Alright" (a car revs up)
[Chorus: 50 Cent]
If there's beef, cock it and dump it, the drama really means nothing
To me I'll ride by and blow ya brains out (brains out)
There's no time to cock it, no way you can stop it
When niggas run up on you wit them things out (things out)
I do what I gotta do I don't care I if get caught
The DA can play this motherfucking tape in court
I'll kill you - I ain't playing, hear what I'm saying, homie I ain't playing
Catch you slipping, I'ma kill you, I ain't playing, hear what I'm saying,
Homie I ain't playing
Keep thinking I'm candy till ya fucking skull get popped
And ya brain jump out the top like Jack-in-da-box
In the hood summer time is the killing season
It's hot out this bitch that's a good 'nough reason
I've seen gangster's get religious when they start bleeding
Saying "Lord, Jesus Help Me" cause they ass leaking
When they window roll down and that A.K. come out
You can squeeze ya lil' handgun until you run out
And you can run for ya back-up
But them machine gun shells gone tear ya back up
God's on ya side, shit I'm alright with that
We reload them clips and come right back
It's a fact homie, you go against me ya fucked
I get the drop, if you can duck, ya luckier then Lady Luck
Look nigga, don't think you safe cause you moved out the hood
'cause ya momma still around dog, and daddy ain't good
If you was smart you'd be shook of me
Cause I'd get tired of looking for ya,
Spray ya momma crib, and let ya ass look
My heart bleeds for you nigga, I can't wait to get to you
Behind that twinkle in ya eyes, I can see the bitch in you
Nigga you know the streets talk
So they'll be no white flags and no peace talks
I got my back against the wind, I'm down to ride till the sun burn out
If I die today, I'm happy how my life turned out
See the shootouts that I've been in I'm by myself
Locked up I was in a box by myself
I done made myself a millionaire by myself
Now, shit changed motherfucker I can hire some help
I done heard about the 50 grand you put in the hood
But ya shooter fin'nin to get get shot it won't do 'em no good
With a pistol I define the definition of pain
If you survive ya bones'll still fucking hurt when it rain
Oh you a pro at playing battleship well this ain't the same
Lil homie this is a whole different type of war game
See the losers and up in shackles of motherfucking chains
Or laid out in the streets leaking out they brains
After the fist fights it's gunfire boy you get the best of me (best of me)
If you don't want to get shot I suggest you don't go testing me (testing me)
All the wrong I've done the Lord still keep on blessing me (blessing me)
Fin'nin to run rap 'cause Dr. Dre got the recipe (the recipe, recipe)
Yeah, uh ha, aye Dre
You got me feeling real bulletproof up in this motherfucker
Cause my windows on my motherfucking Benz is bulletproof nigga
Cause my motherfucking vest is bulletproof nigga
Cause my motherfucking hat is bulletproof nigga
But the Doc said if I get hit I might get a fucking concussion
Better that then a hole in the head right nigga
Written by YOUNG, ANDRE / ELIZONDO, MICHAEL / COSTER, TOMMY / JACKSON, CURTIS
Published by Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., EMI Music Publishing, WINDSWEPT HOLDINGS LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.