[ Featuring Tony Yayo, Lloyd Banks ]
Yeah, it's 50
Look, you need me man
You need me
I mean, you hate me
But you need me
'Cause I got the best product man
I mean look, it's pure, it's pure as snow
I'm a South side nigga I'm warning you,
You could get smoked when I come through, okay, okay
If sellin' cocaine is what you tryna do,
I could be a good connect for you, okay, okay (50 Cent!)
Look bitch, he can't treat you the way I do,
Now lay back, Maybach '62, okay, okay
Now I got a bunch of paper I wanna spend
And I'ma grind, I'ma stack, and I'ma do it again, okay, okay
Lemme show you how
Lemme show you how
I can show you how
Lemme show you how!
This is that Porsche GT shit
That Baltimore G shit
That body-bag, dope-fiend dead off O-D shit
Fish scale cookin' I'm Chef-Boyar-50
I get my hands on that paper, y'all need to f*ck wit' me, bitch
Who want the dice, pray the outcome's nice
Like seven or eleven, I'ma winner
Pick up the chips, better yet, bitch, pick up the bricks
Tell the valet to bring us the whip
Look at the Vegas lights
I told ya, I'll light up ya life
Pull up to the floor in a Ricky Hatton fight
I'ma champion baby, a little bit crazy
But crazy's unpredictable, and that's entertaining
So you hear the boss up, concrete blue, gossip
Media take out, let 'em talk while I cake out
I can't be more than me
But you can make me out to be what you want me to be
50!
It's just a pinch man
It's a sample
You're not supposed to get high
Off the sample
You're just supposed to feel a buzz
I'm not tryna get you where you need
To go, with this
I'm just havin' fun, you know?
You probably waiting for a next verse
Well there's not a next verse comin'
I'm just playing man
You could take a bag of this right here
We'll call this the body bag
Lemme put a stamp on this dog right here
Yeah, that blue magic shit Jay gave you
But I know you need to get high again
Damn
Nigga, if life is a gamble, roll the dice
If the Feds kick the door then it's natural life, okay, okay
I got the dope in the vice
Eight pots on the stove
Move eight bricks on about eight hoes, okay, okay
I ain't a Frank Lucas lover, I'ma block hugger
I respect real G's like Don Fischer
I'm not ya middle man
I'm ya boss man, Pablo Escobar
King of New York man
King of the coke man
King of the dope man
Work got got
It's fresh off the boat man
Ask fish bone if I had fish scale
Jump in the '6 let that bitch fish scale
For real
It feels like silk
This is that Sin City
Golden Navy
Players Club
Sue's Rendezvous
I mean this is like head
Good Sex
Now watch this climax
I'll take it to the next level
Come on
(Yeah) Lloyd Banks!
There's a lot of product out there
But I'm the pure thing
4 rings, Ross-niggas, the guns
And court swings
Hip-Hop-Heroine
I'm better than whoever,
When I inject the medicine it turns into a fetish
Fettuccine when I dine
Rap, white Line
Wanna recline
My jewels' blind
I got a EB9, grind
My Mercedes ride by 'em
My ladies top dime
I line 'em up, I ain't here to make friends, I'm 'bout a buck
I man the game like a corner
Everybody cut-throatin', hopin' they can catch a come up, run up on a nigga jokin'
You strong enough for smokin'?
That 2K raw,
No bag, get back
You get what you paid for
Whore
(This is 50 dot com!)
