Artist: 50 Cent
Album: Dj Clue - Show Me The Money 2002
Song: Victory Pt. 2
Typed & sent By: G Unit Soljah@aol.com (thanx dawg)
Yo, yo we can't stay alive forever
So if the shit hit the fan then we might as well die together
Im high as ever, more hoes and more cheddar
G-unit move around with them pounds and berettas
Yeah faggot, if I want it im gonna have
Regardless if its handed to me or I gotta grab it
Don't make a ass outta yaself tryin' to stop me
Im cocky, raps rocky, nigga you sloppy
You know that im 8 levels above you nigga
Ill club you nigga, I never heard of you nigga
Ill slug you nigga, im the wrong one to provoke
You rattin' on niggaz is only gonna leave you smoked
So the only thing left is now is toast to these cowards
I got no friends, fuck most of these cowards
They pop shit until we start to approach these cowards
While we layin' around dollars, they lay around flowers
[Verse]
I got a gangstress & argues & steams with reefer
Flip when I call her a bitch like she Queen Lattefa
Now all the veical is long enough to stash a street sweeper
The shit gonna get uglier then the Master P sneaker
You slidin' through the ruckus, with prada on the chucker
So the spring break hoes home, from college wanna fuck us
I aint here to drop knowledge on you suckers
I sick rotwilders on you fuckers, cops follow wanna cuff us
Top dollars to discuss this, whole lot of zeros
When it comes to paper ill blow the soul outta heroes
Imma break before I lay in the floor buried besides
Every rapper aint a star & ever plad aint Burberrys
You can't tame ??? we smoking by the big screen
Changing the channel looks like im playing a GameBoy
I know the watch bother in ya vision
But reach & im putting a dot on ya head, like its part of ya religion
Im out partying wit a pigeon, im blowin' a ten
Cause bush handin' out flyers for a party in the prison
Im in the Gucci vest with the green & red straps
Im the last rapper to scare niggas since cregg mac
Now every morning is a fast start
It aint a problem gettin' dress cause my closet got more Elle then Pathmark
Run when we startin to wave
Or leave with 12 shells in ya mouth, like a carton of eggs
Im a young pimp, pardon my age
I don't got long hair, but if I did she be partin' my braids
We just find out what club the at
Take 'em with us & run a train on 'em like a subway map
Ya advance is a gray Accra
See these record labels got most artist gettin' fucked like a gay rapper
I go to college on tour
Im going down in history nigga, next to Wallace & Shakur
Keep ya ammo clean, Teks polished in the draw
Cameras by the hampers, that monitor the floor
Right now, you probably heard of me
Fresh outta surgery, flashy as a fuck you gon' have to murder me
Burglary, you leaving with ya Nikes burgundy, white T burgundy
You match now, back down
Nigga really hate you or love you when you disappear
Catch me on a boat, with weed smoke & fishing gear
Heavy when I toke, see note from different years
??? in a rope, remotes & lift ya chairs
You aint rich we be glad to snatch ya
Ill send cars to ya crib like im a cab dispatcher
You better off with the stupid guys, looking for a hoop to drive
You aint gettin' nothin' but ya French fries super sized
It's a damn same ya'll still local
Im the million dollar studio layin' my vocals, nigga
[50 Talking]
Still in the projects nigga, you aint going nowhere
You gonna be there for the rest of ya motherfuckin' life
And ya momma say im suppost to tell you something
To incurrage you, something positive
Aight well I aint gonna lye to you mother fucker
You aint goin' nowhere, get yaself a beef and get on the curb
Fuckin' dirt bags
This message has been edited by tidepoetry on Sep 14, 2002 2:15 PM