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f/ G-Unit, Scarlett |
| [50 Cent] |
G Unit! |
| [50 Cent] |
A, B |
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[Scarlett] You can't fuck with me |
| [50 Cent] |
C, D |
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[Scarlett] We from the Harlem streets |
| [50 Cent] |
E, F |
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[Scarlett] Don't talk me to death |
| [50 Cent] |
G, H |
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[Scarlett] It's elementary |
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[Scarlett] |
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Picture me rolling Range Rover |
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Same color your Air Force Ones |
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White on white, ya like? |
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Red I flight the night |
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From L.A. to N.Y. |
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I'm Harlem bound |
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You see how bitches tense up, when Scarlett 'round |
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Niggas get the heart to holla while we up in the club |
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But get intimidated when they see me sitting on dubs |
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I hear 'em whispering ' dat ain't a man, shit that's her.' |
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She roll with them G Unit niggas, that's what's up |
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Disrespect me, I'll have niggas blast ya up |
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Take my advice, don't let ya peoples grass ya up |
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I got a fetish for the chips |
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20's for the six |
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Hollows for the clips |
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Try me, if you think I'm playing bitch |
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And the police we'll have another crime scene taker |
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Jim Star crush your head, give your ass a shape-up |
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Uptown niggas known for the money they make |
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Everybody ain't shook, you see doing the shake |
| [50 Cent][Hook] |
|
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The boss spending ends |
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Saying, 'Gimme that Benz, 20 inch rims, and four TV's' |
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The snitch in the precinct saying |
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'He sell X, he sell techs, and he sell D' |
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The balla by the bar saying, |
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'Everybody drink, the best champagne, it's all on me' |
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Snitch in the back of the police car |
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Pointing out the window saying, 'He robbed me' |
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It's elementary |
|
[Lloyd Banks] |
|
1,2,3,4 |
| [50 Cent] |
|
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Lloyd Banks' in the house |
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[Lloyd Banks] |
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Now get the fuck on the floor |
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I slid through the front door |
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With the 9 and the velour |
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A cal in my pocket |
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You wil', I'mma pop it |
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I'm down for a profit |
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I'm ghetto as hell |
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You can't you tell? |
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My road dog, under the jail |
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Getting frustrating mail |
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So I'm drinking and smoking |
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Thinking and hoping |
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This cell gon' open |
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You can dance next to me, but don't throw an elbow |
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I'll throw one back and leave blood on your Shell Toes |
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Hell no |
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I ain't paying for pleasure |
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Your pussy don't bring rainbows and pots of treasure |
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It's every girl's dream, to floss with the team |
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Long limousine |
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DVD's on the screen |
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Blowing on cream |
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Waiting for you to scheme |
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You ain't gotta know how to read, to spray a magazine |
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[Hook] |
|
[Tony Yayo] |
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I don't wanna grow up, I'mma hustler kid |
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Go'head and stunt, see I don't pop two your wig |
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I'm artistic, intelligent, so much ability |
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When I use them big words, your bitch be feeling me |
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So ya'll niggas hate me, 'cause your wives be our groupies |
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Ya'll irritate me, like loud people in the movies |
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Fall back, matter fact back down |
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'Cause I just passed security without no pat down |
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You can catch me in the bathroom blowing a sticky |
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Or catch me on the dancefloor feeling some tits |
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Sex sells, so I'mma P-I-M-P |
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So my pockets never be empty |
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It ain't no problem, we scoop them models |
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We got condoms, coups, and lavish condos |
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50 got me getting ass like I never did |
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So when I step in the club, hoes love the kid |
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[Hook] |
| [50 Cent] |
|
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The cat in the house go |
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Meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow |
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The bird in the cage go |
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Tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet |
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It's elementary |
