Spider Loc, Lloyd Banks, 50 Cent - Things Change lyrics
50 Cent [Curtis James Jackson III]
[Spider Loc, Lloyd Banks, 50 Cent - Things Change lyrics]
Nigga things, change, never stay the same
Now watch me come up, I hustle
I hustle even harder
I put that work in to win, no problem
All money ain't good money, this I know
But I still love hood money, I gets my dough
And as a youngster
A nigga went to so much church
And still turned out fucked up
I did so much dirt
Chose to bang the neighborhood
I put in so much work
Did a whole lot of time
Caused mom so much hurt on everythang
That boy wasn't gunned on purpose
Who knew that all my darkness
Was really gon' surface
I was stuck on that bullshit
Just runnin the streets
Without some type of beef
The week wasn't complete
It's like a nigga feel better
After dumpin his heat on feet
Just to see that body slumped in the seat
Was like a whole nother rush to me
Bustin was sweet now I'm smarter
I'm all about somethin to eat
I'm on the road
Spend 30 days a month in a suite
But I'm still gon' hustle and cheat, let's go
Yeah, uhh
Now walkin down the block without'cha weapon
Is a first class ticket to a lesson
I thirst cash, kick it to perfection
Me and Ben got a connection
That's why I bring the Benz to impress him
Heart in my zone
All alone homes rattle in my bones
Cause he yappin off his lips and if
I hit him I'll be wrong
Cause he ain't never gon' be shit
And I done worked so hard
But I will make you a corn on the cob
You'll be performin for God
Either that or rob you on your boulevard
Bet you never thought for a second
Niggas'd pull your card God
I'm on my job, scarred since my nigga gone
HP tatted on me so his memory lives on
Engagin in drama without your bomber'll
Be funeral arrangements for your mama
I learned that when I was in
Pajamas watchin Michael and Madonna
Now I got the appetite of a pirahna, nigga
What nobody knows
All the roads you go through
You can't even talk to those
That supposedly know you
Some of the levels that these
People'll go to for crumbs
Damn, tell me, is this what that dough do?
That's when you find yourself
Talkin to Pro Tools
There's not too many that ever
Walked in the Loc shoes
Or tell the tale that my heart contains
I explain, so many different parts of pain
I'm clean, but still some marks remain
From the past
When that kush weed sparks the brain
The cash made some people start to change
I feel hate when I pulled
Up and parked the Range
Your damn right I got rich
But my heart the same
And practice makes perfect with
The art of aim
You ain't really got the heart to bang
You ain't start to hang
'til you found out I caught the chain
Now watch me come up, I hustle
I hustle even harder
I put that work in to win, no problem
All money ain't good money, this I know
But I still love hood money, I gets my dough
And as a youngster
A nigga went to so much church
And still turned out fucked up
I did so much dirt
Chose to bang the neighborhood
I put in so much work
Did a whole lot of time
Caused mom so much hurt on everythang
That boy wasn't gunned on purpose
Who knew that all my darkness
Was really gon' surface
I was stuck on that bullshit
Just runnin the streets
Without some type of beef
The week wasn't complete
It's like a nigga feel better
After dumpin his heat on feet
Just to see that body slumped in the seat
Was like a whole nother rush to me
Bustin was sweet now I'm smarter
I'm all about somethin to eat
I'm on the road
Spend 30 days a month in a suite
But I'm still gon' hustle and cheat, let's go
Yeah, uhh
Now walkin down the block without'cha weapon
Is a first class ticket to a lesson
I thirst cash, kick it to perfection
Me and Ben got a connection
That's why I bring the Benz to impress him
Heart in my zone
All alone homes rattle in my bones
Cause he yappin off his lips and if
I hit him I'll be wrong
Cause he ain't never gon' be shit
And I done worked so hard
But I will make you a corn on the cob
You'll be performin for God
Either that or rob you on your boulevard
Bet you never thought for a second
Niggas'd pull your card God
I'm on my job, scarred since my nigga gone
HP tatted on me so his memory lives on
Engagin in drama without your bomber'll
Be funeral arrangements for your mama
I learned that when I was in
Pajamas watchin Michael and Madonna
Now I got the appetite of a pirahna, nigga
What nobody knows
All the roads you go through
You can't even talk to those
That supposedly know you
Some of the levels that these
People'll go to for crumbs
Damn, tell me, is this what that dough do?
That's when you find yourself
Talkin to Pro Tools
There's not too many that ever
Walked in the Loc shoes
Or tell the tale that my heart contains
I explain, so many different parts of pain
I'm clean, but still some marks remain
From the past
When that kush weed sparks the brain
The cash made some people start to change
I feel hate when I pulled
Up and parked the Range
Your damn right I got rich
But my heart the same
And practice makes perfect with
The art of aim
You ain't really got the heart to bang
You ain't start to hang
'til you found out I caught the chain