50 Cent, Lloyd Banks, Tony Yayo - Part 2 & Bump Heads lyrics
50 Cent [Curtis James Jackson III]
[50 Cent, Lloyd Banks, Tony Yayo - Part 2 & Bump Heads lyrics]
I wanna be the reason you smile
After you wipe ya tears
The reason you have the courage
To confront ya fears
The reason there's two karats in
Each of ya ears
I splurge with the paper ma, I don't care
How you like it, pumps or boots
Jeeps or coops
Minks or leathers, fifty fall off never
Whats mine is yours and whats yours is mine
So when I shine, you shine
The finest champagne, we can toast to life
Crap table in Vegas, you can toss the dice
Don't let ya fears let you
Confuse sayin' "fifty's bad news"
I need you in my life girl
You're too much to lose
Nigga, you won't deny that
I'ma fuckin' ride out
Then you'll bump heads wit me
I'll put a hole in yo ass, you'll see
That it ain't cool to fuck wit me
Nigga, you won't deny that I'ma fuckin' rider
Then you'll bump heads wit me
I'll put a hole in yo ass, you'll see
That it ain't cool to fuck wit me
G-Unit, I roll wit gorillas
Fuck a big body guard
I hang wit pint size killas
I ain't tryin' to be dirty
Still on the strip
I'm tryin' to be dirty, filthy rich
Give a nigga too much rope
He think he a cowboy
Give Tony too much dope
I'm pushin' the big boy v12, SL detailed
I rap and wait for them checks in the mail
If you hatin', your due time life will expire
Cause my guns speak jamaican
They be like "Bloodfire!"
Where I'm from, niggas be on some sleek shit
They hungry
Use they lighters to cook their beef stick
And this 'dro and this nestle got me right
So my lungs be as black as Wesley Snipes
I'm on first class flights
Heading towards Vegas
Ya slot machines niggas
We crap table players
I roll a seven, cause we crap table players
I know a lot of niggas want Banks gone
My kind of beef will fuck up ya grill
And not the kind you put franks on
I'm hidin' out, so my meals is home cooked
I deal wit more ho's than
A chinese phone book
You're high with your messed up ratchets
I'm out blowin' haze bags the
Size of ketchup packets
Fuck who's in ya ride
There's tools on my side
By the females standin' with
Tattoos on they thighs
There's a lot of cats losin' they wives
Cause next time I see 'em
They got black and blues on they eyes
Nah, I ain't ready to die, but I'm prepared
But I'd rather grow old with
Grey hairs in my beard
They know me in the field
The kid with the fans
That argue over my balls
Like Kobe and Shaquille
If you talkin' bout millions throw
Me in the deal big city, stadium tour
Rollie in the wheel motherfucker
After you wipe ya tears
The reason you have the courage
To confront ya fears
The reason there's two karats in
Each of ya ears
I splurge with the paper ma, I don't care
How you like it, pumps or boots
Jeeps or coops
Minks or leathers, fifty fall off never
Whats mine is yours and whats yours is mine
So when I shine, you shine
The finest champagne, we can toast to life
Crap table in Vegas, you can toss the dice
Don't let ya fears let you
Confuse sayin' "fifty's bad news"
I need you in my life girl
You're too much to lose
Nigga, you won't deny that
I'ma fuckin' ride out
Then you'll bump heads wit me
I'll put a hole in yo ass, you'll see
That it ain't cool to fuck wit me
Nigga, you won't deny that I'ma fuckin' rider
Then you'll bump heads wit me
I'll put a hole in yo ass, you'll see
That it ain't cool to fuck wit me
G-Unit, I roll wit gorillas
Fuck a big body guard
I hang wit pint size killas
I ain't tryin' to be dirty
Still on the strip
I'm tryin' to be dirty, filthy rich
Give a nigga too much rope
He think he a cowboy
Give Tony too much dope
I'm pushin' the big boy v12, SL detailed
I rap and wait for them checks in the mail
If you hatin', your due time life will expire
Cause my guns speak jamaican
They be like "Bloodfire!"
Where I'm from, niggas be on some sleek shit
They hungry
Use they lighters to cook their beef stick
And this 'dro and this nestle got me right
So my lungs be as black as Wesley Snipes
I'm on first class flights
Heading towards Vegas
Ya slot machines niggas
We crap table players
I roll a seven, cause we crap table players
I know a lot of niggas want Banks gone
My kind of beef will fuck up ya grill
And not the kind you put franks on
I'm hidin' out, so my meals is home cooked
I deal wit more ho's than
A chinese phone book
You're high with your messed up ratchets
I'm out blowin' haze bags the
Size of ketchup packets
Fuck who's in ya ride
There's tools on my side
By the females standin' with
Tattoos on they thighs
There's a lot of cats losin' they wives
Cause next time I see 'em
They got black and blues on they eyes
Nah, I ain't ready to die, but I'm prepared
But I'd rather grow old with
Grey hairs in my beard
They know me in the field
The kid with the fans
That argue over my balls
Like Kobe and Shaquille
If you talkin' bout millions throw
Me in the deal big city, stadium tour
Rollie in the wheel motherfucker