|
[Chorus] |
| [50 Cent] |
|
|
I\'ll teach you how to stunt |
|
My wrists stay rocked up |
|
My TV\'s pop up in a Maybach benz |
|
I\'ll teach you how to stunt |
|
Nigga you can\'t see me |
|
My bently GT got smoke gray rims |
|
I\'ll teach you how to stunt |
|
My neck stay blinging, my rims stay gleaming, I\'m shining man |
|
I\'ll teach you how to stunt |
|
I see you scheming, nigga keep on dreaming, I hurt ya mans |
|
I\'ll teach you how to stunt |
| [50 Cent] |
|
|
Seven series BM, Six series benz |
|
Twenty-four inches, Giovanni rims |
|
All on one wheel when I\'m on one of them |
|
Ma, that boy out there actin a fool that\'s him |
|
They say I\'ve changed man, I\'m getting paper, I\'m flashy |
|
They like me better when I\'m ****ed up and ashy |
|
My royalty check\'s the rebirth of Liberace |
|
Stunt so hard, everybody got to watch me |
|
And I don\'t really care if it\'s platinum or white gold |
|
As long as the VS bling, look at that light show |
|
In the hood they say Fifty man your sneaker look white yo |
|
Just can\'t believe Reebok did a deal with a psycho |
|
Banks is a sure thing, yall niggaz might blow |
|
I\'m fittin to drop that, so I suggest you lay low |
|
Buc, he from Cashville, Tenneckee nigga |
|
Getting them ten of keys, save ten for me nigga |
|
[Chorus] |
|
[Lloyd Banks] |
|
I\'m sensing a lot of tension now that I\'m rappin |
|
But the kids used to look up to you, what happened? |
|
Me on the corner, ??, hand covered with platinum |
|
Different color coupes but I\'m in love with the black one |
|
On point, cuz you get R.I.P.\'s when slacking |
|
So the stashbox big enough to squeeze the mack in |
|
Yeah, I\'m fairly new but I demand some respect |
|
Cuz I already wear your advance on my neck |
|
I\'m fresh off the jet, then I breeze to the beaches |
|
Blue yankee fitted, G-Unit sneakers |
|
I already figured out what to do with all my features |
|
Decorate the basement, full of street sweepers |
|
When it comes to stuntin\' theres nothing you can teach us |
|
We\'re in a different time zone, your records don\'t reach us |
|
Naww, I ain\'t here to save the world, just roll up a blunt |
|
Come with me out front, I\'LL TEACH YOU HOW TO STUNT |
|
[Chorus] |
|
[Young Buc] |
|
Chain so icy, you don\'t have to like me |
|
In a throwback jersey, with the throwback nikes |
|
I know you probably seen me with Cash Money from back in the days |
|
The only thing changed is the numbers on the range |
|
I bought me an old school and blew out the brains |
|
The Roc the Mic tour, I threw off my chain |
|
My sprewell\'s spinning man, I\'m doing my thing |
|
And whodi now in trouble now that you in the game |
|
Come on now, we all know gold is getting old |
|
The ice in my teeth keep the crystal cold |
|
G-Unit homie, actin\' like yall don\'t know |
|
Look, I can\'t even walk through the mall no more |
|
I just pull up, get out, and get all the hoes |
|
They never seen doors lift up on a car before |
|
Don\'t be mad at me dog, that\'s all I know |
|
That\'s how to show these fougaisies how it\'s supposed to go |
|
[Chorus] |
