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G-Unit - The Beast Is G-Unit Album Lyrics



G-Unit - The Beast Is G-Unit Lyrics






Ballin

[Hook - 50 Cent:]
Until God calls for me I'mma keep ballin', keep on ballin'
To my niggas and my bitches looking down on me
I know y'all see me when I'm ballin'
You know I got to keep ballin'
Till the FEDs come we ballin' out
Y'all niggas y'all know what this about when I'm ballin'
That stash house, we in and out
We ballin', ballin', ballin', we shot callin'

[Tony Yayo:]
Versace down from my head to my neck
Pootie Tang with the belt game, show some respect
All these bitches on my dick, same, old shit
R.I.P. to Pimp C, I'm the same, old pimp
Fly over seven different time zones
I got a big booty bitch up in shroom zone
Got emergency blunts when I come home
Cause if rap or weed I'll have your lungs gone
Yeah, Malibu beaches, unlaced bikini bottoms
Mo' money, mo' problems, fo' fo' will solve 'em
Just every day I'm with a stank sip, 30 in the clip
Riding through that Gaza Strip, kill a nigga quick
Hit a nigga with my race car, Tony Yayo turn to Tony Stewart
Rap niggas die over music

[Young Buck:]
Just got this brand, new chopper and I'm dying to use it
Dry snitching niggas testifying in their music
I seen niggas last five minutes then they lose it
Wrap the sheet around his neck, he said, "this time I couldn't do it"
A platinum nigga in the penitentiary going, "do it"
Put Prada on the prison yard, started getting to it
Two zero's, six, six, nine, 'o seven five
That's the number that they gave me when I arrived
It's just another form of slavery that's in disguise
To all my niggas locked up just trying to survive, I know why

[Hook]

[Kidd Kidd:]
I'm yelling money over bitches, money over everything
Money got me everything, every watch, every chain
Every brick, every whip, kicks with designer names
I used to hustle Texas whose child I can claim
Paid all my mama's bills so how can she complain?
Call my bitches dimes, I treat 'em like loose change
Call me Brian in the clutch, ballin' with my English brain
No love, got it out the mud, my shirt ain't got a stain
Iced out Rollie, three fingers reppin' Rida Gang
Entire streets in the streets so them hoes know I came

[Lloyd Banks:]
Ballin' on these hoes all the time
You got your kids, don't need mine
Word to my favorite design, my mama raised me to shine
These C-notes play in my mind, they on rewind
I am top five alive, I've been picked out by God
I'm never not on my job, too hard to argue that
Shining my records like, "where's my target at?"
Came through your stereo, feel me charging back
I owe you 15 bums for that
Stains in the garden, hate when they all go black
Cracks in the armor, this reach further than rap
Before we start react, mob attack
Stacks or don't call me, rain down 'til nobody standing
Won't show no snipe for your army

[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Marvin Bernard, David Darnell Brown, Christopher Charles Lloyd, Sebastian Scott Adams, Curtis James Jackson, Curtis Stewart
Copyright: Lyrics © Ultra Tunes, Universal Music Publishing Group, The Administration MP, Inc., Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.






Im Grown

[Hook - 50 Cent:]
Until God calls for me I'mma keep ballin', keep on ballin'
To my niggas and my bitches looking down on me
I know y'all see me when I'm ballin'
You know I got to keep ballin'
Till the FEDs come we ballin' out
Y'all niggas y'all know what this about when I'm ballin'
That stash house, we in and out
We ballin', ballin', ballin', we shot callin'

[Tony Yayo:]
Versace down from my head to my neck
Pootie Tang with the belt game, show some respect
All these bitches on my dick, same, old shit
R.I.P. to Pimp C, I'm the same, old pimp
Fly over seven different time zones
I got a big booty bitch up in shroom zone
Got emergency blunts when I come home
Cause if rap or weed I'll have your lungs gone
Yeah, Malibu beaches, unlaced bikini bottoms
Mo' money, mo' problems, fo' fo' will solve 'em
Just every day I'm with a stank sip, 30 in the clip
Riding through that Gaza Strip, kill a nigga quick
Hit a nigga with my race car, Tony Yayo turn to Tony Stewart
Rap niggas die over music

[Young Buck:]
Just got this brand, new chopper and I'm dying to use it
Dry snitching niggas testifying in their music
I seen niggas last five minutes then they lose it
Wrap the sheet around his neck, he said, "this time I couldn't do it"
A platinum nigga in the penitentiary going, "do it"
Put Prada on the prison yard, started getting to it
Two zero's, six, six, nine, 'o seven five
That's the number that they gave me when I arrived
It's just another form of slavery that's in disguise
To all my niggas locked up just trying to survive, I know why

[Hook]

[Kidd Kidd:]
I'm yelling money over bitches, money over everything
Money got me everything, every watch, every chain
Every brick, every whip, kicks with designer names
I used to hustle Texas whose child I can claim
Paid all my mama's bills so how can she complain?
Call my bitches dimes, I treat 'em like loose change
Call me Brian in the clutch, ballin' with my English brain
No love, got it out the mud, my shirt ain't got a stain
Iced out Rollie, three fingers reppin' Rida Gang
Entire streets in the streets so them hoes know I came

[Lloyd Banks:]
Ballin' on these hoes all the time
You got your kids, don't need mine
Word to my favorite design, my mama raised me to shine
These C-notes play in my mind, they on rewind
I am top five alive, I've been picked out by God
I'm never not on my job, too hard to argue that
Shining my records like, "where's my target at?"
Came through your stereo, feel me charging back
I owe you 15 bums for that
Stains in the garden, hate when they all go black
Cracks in the armor, this reach further than rap
Before we start react, mob attack
Stacks or don't call me, rain down 'til nobody standing
Won't show no snipe for your army

[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: DAVID DARNELL N BROWN, CURTIS JAMES N JACKSON, CHRISTOPHER CHARLES N LLOYD, CARLTON MAYS, CURTIS STEWART
Copyright: Lyrics © Ultra Tunes, Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.






Bring My Bottles

[Tony Yayo:]
You in this VIP and you ain't spending no money get the f*ck out. We need them bottles. Sparkle something

[50 Cent:]
Say you ballin', boy, we gon' need the proof
We be two steppin', mix the Effen with the juice
Me, I know just what to do to get 'em loose
Me, I know just what to do to get 'em loose
Shorty think I'm trickin' cause she got a pair of shoes
I was just stuntin', man, this bitch here confused
Me, I know just what to do to get 'em loose
Me, I know just what to do to get 'em loose

[Young Buck:]
F*ck you know 'bout bustin' down a brick?
Your main ho always think that you around a bitch
Picked up a pack and I ain't look back since '96
Since then I've been addicted to designer shit
Chopper in the parkin' lot, I'm tryna find a lick
Come up on a thousand pounds, that's my kind of rich
Independent, I don't need no nigga with me
I do everything quickly, don't believe me? Ask 50
I got game for these hoes, can't no broke bitch trick me
And can fit a hundred bands in these navy blue Dickies

[Hook - Young Buck/Tony Yayo:]
I pull up and my car ain't got no roof
All these bitches say that I'm the truth
I know just what to do to get 'em loose
Can you please bring my bottles to my booth?
Can you please bring my bottles to my booth?
Can you please bring my bottles to my booth?
I know just what to do to get 'em loose
Can you please bring my bottles to my booth?

[Young Buck:]
Hundred bottles with the sparklers, light it up
Bottles in the air, f*ck them niggas buyin' cups
Louis the 13th, I drink rich nigga shit
Turn one into two quick, I do tricks with the bricks
Extra clip on my hip, all my niggas with the shits
It's the Unit in this bitch, I'm 50 rich, now who you with?
G-Unit, lazy niggas don't want to pop no bottles
Yayo keep sayin', "Nigga, what's a thousand dollars"
She must don't plan on stayin' if she don't swallow
DM'd her friend on Instagram and told that bitch to holler
Dopeboy, bitch, I ain't playin', I f*ck with guala
And I don't f*ck with rappers, bein' honest
I f*ck with them strippers, be at Onyx
Them starlets and them les hoes, your bitch is garbage
Them King of Diamond bitches, ain't they gorgeous?
Drop head Phantom and I'm sittin' on Forgi's

[Hook]

[Tony Yayo:]
It's the Unit, man. We back. Young Buck. Cashville, Ten-a-key, nigga. Yeah
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: DAVID DARNELL BROWN, STEVE MCKINLEY THORNTON, CURTIS JAMES JACKSON
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group






Doper Than My Last One

[Lloyd Banks:]
Dope-doper than my last one

[Hook - Lloyd Banks:]
I roll up 'till the cash come
I'm on my cool shit, new bitch, doper than my last one
Dope-doper than my last one
I got loud in by the bag more potent than the last one
I've been the latest fashion
I've been cold, but my new flow doper than my last one
Dope-doper than my last one, dope-doper than my last one

[Lloyd Banks:]
War, spoiled, listen, all my props in order
Take me down, good with old green
He ballin', pocket lawyer new town, now tally more cream
You're a borderline performer nightmares
Mixed with my tall dreams
My songs are like a porno, all I got is my word and my soul
My style a half man, convertible gold
Got bitches jumping off the vertical
Oh, thought I forgot?
You dissed me when I wasn't hot
I guess you miss me now
Bitch, you see me, don't flip your frown
The rich get richer, you skip the needy, they strip you down
Your name graffiti, go get my CD, I'll lift the town
Now probably amazing, ain't no winner promise
Generous summers lead the club with all the strippers on us
How can it be I made a pepper promise
My game a cannon, blow your chick Bahamas
And pet pajamas, time as real as it can get, don't find us
You have official problems
An immediate response to all the shit you hollin'

[Hook]

[Lloyd Banks:]
Player blood, freezin', keep my name out trophy season
F*ck is niggas thinking matching me up, won't be even
And I sound like where I'm from, don't gotta freeload off a region
I deebo all the seasons, snakes and leaches only feedin'
Speeding till you crash and burn
Reckless in this white man's world, no blacks concerned
This dose label reality
I'm on the prowl, but get too close taking your battery
Me and my power pen against the world won't rattle me
You been clouded
Thought to gossip me, ain't care about it
I believe the game'll switch to make emcees all fear the profit
Gotta do my own addiction in the V inhaling chocolate
Spit the sickest flow, the inscription clips are hard narcotic
Money standing by the hobbit
We managed, ran back out of product
The hottest topic, killing shit, don't know how to stop it
The pie is lit, you ho for chromo you a Bozo really
Gun sign in your photo like you gon' go nilly

[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CHRISTOPHER CHARLES LLOYD, KYEME MILLER
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group






Boy Boy

[Tony Yayo:]
Tougher than leather, nigga. I'm tougher than an African kid running bare-foot in the gullies, nigga.
Know what I'm saying? Tough. OG now, nigga. Yeah. Yeah

[Tony Yayo:]
To all living things around me
Cash rules everything around me
Your music is unenthusiastic
My jewelry glow in the dark
Scorpio from Serbia, catch you in traffic
20-round clip, curved magazine
And you could leave the Earth over small, little things
John Gotti hit the cake, go bada bing
And you ain't do shit when them things start to ring
South side, we outside, niggas kill, son
They'll Seattle Seahawk you, throwing bullets like Wilson

[Young Buck:]
White sheets cover his feet, Ku Klux Klan'ed your man
Left him in the streets, strap in his left hand
The thought of even coming around here was a death plan
And if a nigga cosign that he a "yes man"
Shoot the f*ck out of a f*ck nigga, I'm all f*cked up
So loser, I lose, the dice game getting stuck up
When shit real you get killed around here, it's not a big deal
Load her out, nigga, use my big bitch for a shield
(You know I'm saying?) Thank you for real

[Hook - 50 Cent:]
Boy, boy, boy, boy, boy
When your mouth to be shooting
You find out that we been shooting all along
Boy, boy, boy, boy, boy
You get caught without that Ruger
We put hot shit through you then we gone
Boy, boy, boy, boy, boy
Boy, don't let me catch you slipping, boy, boy
Boy, you know I get to tripping, boy, boy
Boy, don't let me strap that clip in, boy, boy
Boy, you know I get to tripping, boy, boy

[Tony Yayo:]
My money up when them mills come
LA Reid with the dope, son, Jimmy Iovine with the coke, son
Wise time fly by, I'm an OG, bad bitch with double D's
Nigga, Jordan couldn't palm these, feel the breeze
Wrap 'em in satin, they be gone by the morning
Federal subpoenas while SWATs kick the doors in
F*ck up the sheets, the electric tapes to your door though
I show that bitch how to breathe under water
Excuse moi, French bitches bending over
Snatch 'em out the whip, throw 'em in the Range Rover
Snitches and phones, catch the 30 piece from the jewelry
[?] why they texting 'bout [?] body
Frank Lucas put flowers on bunk graves every Tuesday
That's loyalty and don't listen to everything your lawyer say
Red dot, surgery with the laser
Have a nigga missing like that plane from Malaysia

[Kidd Kidd:]
Fo' fo's, long nose is Gonzo's
Hundred rounds, drum on the K, that's bongos
Running your mouth with deadly convos, I clap like, "bravo"
Bend back for the I call, nigga, huh
You pussy niggas think you got nine lives
I'mma make sure I stick you more than nine times
With that ice pick I'm a cold killer
You tucking your tail and growing whiskers, rat nigga

[Hook]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: MARVIN BERNARD, DAVID DARNELL BROWN, RAMON JR. IBANGA, JACOB BRIAN DUTTON, CURTIS JAMES JACKSON, ROBERT MANDELL, CURTIS STEWART
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group






Choose One

All I see is dead people
Come through the hood, niggas starving
If you ain't tryna pay what I'm charging
All I see is dead people
I'm not doing no arguing
No deals, I ain't giving no bargains
My Glock 9 give you 16 ways to die, choose one
Give it to ya how you want it
My .45 give you 32 ways to die, choose one
It's shoot 'em up bang, bang, shit, we still on it, nigga

Every day a star's rising
It ain't no love here, but your heart's tied in
Soul's slipping, sparks flying
Masterpieces is an art dying
Crime release, we break apart lying
Man down, the parts crying
Tears of joys heal a real McCoy
Bury your worries, don't wonder who rides for ya
Know yourself, relax and study
Bloody your uniform, no rest, keep moving on
Anybody who do you wrong, wrong turn, it's on

Somebody chain got took, somebody life got lost
Somebody water not working, somebody lights cut off
I watched my partner OD in '03 in front of me
Took the plea, went on a spree, damn near downed the whole key
Paranoid, nose dirty, 'bout to go for them thirty
You keep saying he's hurting, now all his homies is worried
Second-guessing this gangster, they don't know what he said
They don't know what he told, but now you know that he dead

All I see is dead people
Come through the hood, niggas starving
If you ain't tryna pay what I'm charging
All I see is dead people
I'm not doing no arguing
No deals, I ain't giving no bargains
My Glock 9 give you 16 ways to die, choose one
Give it to ya how you want it
My .45 give you 32 ways to die, choose one
It's shoot 'em up bang, bang, shit, we still on it, nigga

I'm in them trenches like I'm a marine sniper in his Gillie suit
HK, SK, turn niggas vegetable
Live past 22 like climbing Mount Everest with one shoe or flip-flop
Middle finger to the opp'
Bacon, egg and cheese at my clip from last night
Smoking, think about that drama from last night
Emotion in your mind, love and hate cause casualty
These old dogs wack in that cave mentality

Dope boy salary, block ground athlete
Move so much weight I lost a couple calories
The palms sells the size of deep batteries
Get hit like Jay Rock when that fat nigga squeeze
My homie Kenny Booth doing life over 8 racks
He broke down in court when they played the tape back
I'm from Mazant, 6 shots, I ate that
Now I won't pay back, let my kids slay that

All I see is dead people
Come through the hood, niggas starving
If you ain't tryna pay what I'm charging
All I see is dead people
I'm not doing no arguing
No deals, I ain't giving no bargains
My Glock 9 give you 16 ways to die, choose one
Give it to ya how you want it
My .45 give you 32 ways to die, choose one
It's shoot 'em up bang, bang, shit, we still on it, nigga
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CHRISTOPHER CHARLES LLOYD, CURTIS STEWART, CURTIS JAMES JACKSON, DAVID DARNELL BROWN, MARVIN BERNARD
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.






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