50 Cent, Tony Yayo - 187 Yayo lyrics

G-G-G-G-G-G-Unit
50 Cent, nigga (Uh, huh) , Tony Yayo (yeah)
Whoo Kid (Is this what you want?)

Yeah, and you don't stop
I do a one-eight-seven on
Your motherfuckin' block
Yeah, and it don't quit
It's G-Unit in your motherfuckin' ass, bitch
Yeah, and it don't stop
I do a one-eight-seven on
Your motherfuckin' block
Yeah, and it don't quit
It's G-Unit in your motherfuckin' ass, bitch
(Non-stop)

They say good things should happen
To those who wait but I'm stuck in the game
Still slingin' weight
You know that eggshell white
That tan and the brown
For a XL6 or a seven four pound
Suede seats is hot
But Italian leather is better
And with cameras in the mirror, nigga
The cars costs cheddar
I'm on first class flights with flyin' cooks
'Cause my verse sound nice when
They fly in hooks
Now I'm blowing weed, oh, in Beverly Hills
With some bad freak hoes in the Montreal
Next year it's the new Hummer
Stash box with the llama
I drive through in the blue gator bomber
Heaven or Hell'll prevail when I'm a goner
'Cause I eat up tracks
Like Hannibal and Dahmer
I'm the first one out and
Last one on the corner
'Cause life is a hustle
Any day you be a goner
P89 Ruger with the silencer
Let off a clip it sound
Like spitballs goin' through straws
We got plenty of ratchets but not on sale
We even got Dillingers that
Hold shotgun shells
These rappers is talkin' 'bout
Bricks in they rhymes you never did shit but
Some Mickey Mouse crimes
I do not respect it
My work is never watered down
So on the first I get
Mo' checks than NikeTown
Slingin' thirty-one bunnies
I been on the block
Since niggas did The Snake
Running Man and The Wop when I was fifteen
I ain't want no workin' papers
I played the strip all night, servin' niggas
Listen, nigga, we live like Italians in jail
I got COs bringin' cell phones to my cell
Get rich in the game, niggas out to get you
Fill your ass up with lead
Turn yo' ass to a pencil
I jump out with the Ruger rapid-fire
I had you on the run like Omar on The Wire
I'm the only rapper you know
That stay on the run
I'm the only rapper you know
That stay with a gun
I'm a hustler OGs love to hate
'Cause I got old school money
Put away in a safe
You can catch me in the hood
Where that dope and coke at
Or catch me in Cali in a Hollywood throwback
I'm a bail jumper, you know
A fishscale pumper fuck Judge Wong
He won't catch me on the corner
Nigga pay more tax, homie, you owe me
You wanna rap
We can battle for your see-through Rollie
I be in Em mansion strippin' them models
His bathroom's so far you gotta
Piss in a bottle
There's too many indians and
Not enough chiefs
Why you buy all the guns if
You ain't got enough beef?
The shit I spit'll 'cause a all-out riot
And my new four-fifth'll 'cause
A hollow tip diet
I'm the type to tie up your lady
Then gun butt your baby
I'm like the mob, nigga, fuck you, pay me
I'ma hide my assets and disappear
Make a quick twenty mill' and
Vanish in thin air
I've finished my work, now it's time to cop
And meet that Chinese lady
At the baggage spot i need twelve twelves
And fifty-eight fifty-eights
'Cause I got eight sales and
They all gon' wait, motherfucker

Yeah, and you don't stop
I do a one-eight-seven on
Your motherfuckin' block
Yeah, and it don't quit
It's G-Unit in your motherfuckin' ass, bitch
Yeah, and it don't stop
I do a one-eight-seven on
Your motherfuckin' block
Yeah, and it don't quit
It's G-Unit in your motherfuckin' ass, bitch
Yeah

Haha, Whoo Kid