50 Cent - Poor Lil Rich lyrics
50 Cent [Curtis James Jackson III]
[50 Cent - Poor Lil Rich lyrics]
I let my watch talk for me
My whip talk for me
My gat talk for me, blaow, what up, homie?
My watch saying "Hi shorty
We could be friends"
My whip saying "Quit playing, bitch, get in"
My earring saying "We can
Hit the mall together"
Shorty, it's only right that we ball together
I'm into bigger things, y'all niggas
Y'all know my style
Your wrist "bling bling"
My shit "bling blaow"
My pinky ring talk, it say "Fifty, I'm sick"
That's why these niggas is on my dick
Some hate me, some love my hit's
Flex my man, he gon' bump my shit
See, I'm a liar, man, I really don't care
(I don't care)
I tell the hoes whatever they wanna hear
You tryna play me, I'ma blaze you then
My cross cost more than the crib
Your mamma raised you in
I was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit
Nigga
You can find me in the four dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga
Was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit
Nigga
You can find me in the four dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga
New York niggas copy niggas
Like it's all good fuck around
Be Crip-walking in the wrong hood
I'm fresh up out the slammer
I ain't no fucking bammer
I'm from NY whoadie
But I know country grammar (Woo)
See, me, I get it crunk
Niggas go head and front
I go and pop the trunk, come back
Pull out and dump (yeah)
My money come in lumps
My pockets got the mumps
You see me sitting on dubs
That's why you mad, chump
(Uh, huh) don't make me hit you up
These shells'll split you up i lay you down
The coroners'll come and get you up
See, 50 play for keeps, and 50 stay with heat
I can't go commercial
They love me in the street
I'm real gutter, man the hood love me, man
Don't make me show up in
Your crib like bruh man
Locked up in a pen, I still do my thing
CO screaming, "Shut the fuck up!" in the bing
I was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit
Nigga
You can find me in the four dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga
Was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit
Nigga
You can find me in the four dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga
I'm in the Benz on Monday, a BM on Tuesday
Range on Wednesday Thursday
I'm in the hooptay
Porsche on Friday, I do things my way
Vipe or Vette, I tear up the highway (Woo)
Shawty, she could tell you 'bout my dick game
(yeah) but she don't know me
She only know my nickname
Left the hood and came back, damn
Shit changed these young boys, they done
Got they own work, man
I was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit
Nigga
You can find me in the four dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga
Was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit
Nigga
You can find me in the four dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga
My whip talk for me
My gat talk for me, blaow, what up, homie?
My watch saying "Hi shorty
We could be friends"
My whip saying "Quit playing, bitch, get in"
My earring saying "We can
Hit the mall together"
Shorty, it's only right that we ball together
I'm into bigger things, y'all niggas
Y'all know my style
Your wrist "bling bling"
My shit "bling blaow"
My pinky ring talk, it say "Fifty, I'm sick"
That's why these niggas is on my dick
Some hate me, some love my hit's
Flex my man, he gon' bump my shit
See, I'm a liar, man, I really don't care
(I don't care)
I tell the hoes whatever they wanna hear
You tryna play me, I'ma blaze you then
My cross cost more than the crib
Your mamma raised you in
I was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit
Nigga
You can find me in the four dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga
Was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit
Nigga
You can find me in the four dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga
New York niggas copy niggas
Like it's all good fuck around
Be Crip-walking in the wrong hood
I'm fresh up out the slammer
I ain't no fucking bammer
I'm from NY whoadie
But I know country grammar (Woo)
See, me, I get it crunk
Niggas go head and front
I go and pop the trunk, come back
Pull out and dump (yeah)
My money come in lumps
My pockets got the mumps
You see me sitting on dubs
That's why you mad, chump
(Uh, huh) don't make me hit you up
These shells'll split you up i lay you down
The coroners'll come and get you up
See, 50 play for keeps, and 50 stay with heat
I can't go commercial
They love me in the street
I'm real gutter, man the hood love me, man
Don't make me show up in
Your crib like bruh man
Locked up in a pen, I still do my thing
CO screaming, "Shut the fuck up!" in the bing
I was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit
Nigga
You can find me in the four dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga
Was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit
Nigga
You can find me in the four dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga
I'm in the Benz on Monday, a BM on Tuesday
Range on Wednesday Thursday
I'm in the hooptay
Porsche on Friday, I do things my way
Vipe or Vette, I tear up the highway (Woo)
Shawty, she could tell you 'bout my dick game
(yeah) but she don't know me
She only know my nickname
Left the hood and came back, damn
Shit changed these young boys, they done
Got they own work, man
I was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit
Nigga
You can find me in the four dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga
Was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit
Nigga
You can find me in the four dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga