or
50 Cent

I told niggas not to shoot dice with me
Look at this stack
I got money
I got money

Nigga don't trip
I'll kill ya if you fuck with my grip
I won't hesitate to let off a clip
Nigga don't trip
You gon' make me get on some shit
Run up on you quick
What up, you're whipped
Nigga don't trip
You gon' get ya monkey ass hit
Run in ya lip tryna fuck with my clique
Nigga don't trip
Case you didn't know who this is
Its 50 Cent bitch, G-Unit
Nigga don't trip

I come through your hood, stuntin' in my yellow lam murcielago, top down, nigga damn
I'm the biggest crook from New York since son of Sam
Cruisin', bumpin' Bugz shit, rueger in my hand
Thinkin' the east ain't enough, its time to expand
I plan to head out west and plant my feet down
A nigga big as King Kong in the street now
I do a lil house shoppin', and buy me a crib
Its palm trees and pretty bitches out in Cali kid
I touched the Hollywood paper, go and shoot me some flicks
Have some supermodel bitches come and suck on my dick
My mom turn in her grave if I married a white chick
But becky'll suck the chrome off a Chevy and shit
Niggas be wearin' fake shines, I'm rockin' a lil charm
Thirty carrots on the pinky, kiss the ring on the Don
Crack open that Cali bud, stuff the weed in the bomb

[Chorus]
Nigga you hustle, but me I hustle harder
I got what you need, them trees, that heart, that powder
My niggas we G packs, every hour on the hour
They shoot when I say shoot, so I'm in the position of power
You fuck around if you want to

Where I'm from, you learn to blend in, or get touched
I don't need niggas for support, I don't walk with a crutch
Niggas know my stage, they don't fuck with me son
You got an appetite for hollow-tips, I'll feed you my gun
This is that ferrari F-50 shit, its real laid back
Type shit you recline to in the Maybach
I got two shooters now, on the run from the fuzz
You get the same shit for ten bodies,as you get for one 'cause
I live life in the fast lane, 100 miles an hour, chrome and some wood grain
You know a nigga still really tryna move cane
Make a lil extra money on the side mayn
I ain't playin', I'm up early with the birds work
Puttin' that work in, pirrelli's on the Porsche chirpin'
I got a hundred mill from music, a hundred grand from crack
Goin' to see my jeweler, so I can blow a stacks

[Chorus]

Written by JACKSON, CURTIS JAMES / ROTEM, JONATHAN
Published by Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.