50 Cent - Life's on the Line (Ja Rule Diss) lyrics

Nobody likes me
Nobody likes me, but that's okay
'Cause I don't like y'all anyway
Man, I don't like y'all anyway
Fuck all y'all! I let my watch talk for me
My whip talk for me
My gat talk for me, BOW! What up, homie?
Them bitches who don't know me
They wanna blow me
'Cause the shit I floss with be
Saying a lot for me

I came in the rap humble
I don't give a fuck now
I'll serve anybody like niggas
Who hustle uptown (Uh huh, uh huh)
Coke price go up, capsules come down
The Ds run in my crib
I'm nowhere to be found
Niggas who hustle for me
They don't even stash tracs
They keep 'em on 'em
Right there in they ass crack (yeah)
When I don't like a nigga, I don't pretend to
I'll have the paramedics wrapping your
Fucking head like a Hindu
Look, I ain't going nowhere so get used to me
OG's look at me and see I'm
What they used to be
I'm that nigga that sold coke
The nigga that sold dope
The nigga that shot dice, went broke
And sold soap the thug that pop shit
The thug that pop clips
The thug that went from three and
A half to a whole brick
Nigga ain't in his right
Mind going against me
My pictures painted through words
I make a blind man see (Woo)

Scream, "Murda, " I don't believe you
"Murda, " fuck around and leave you
"Murda, " I don't believe you
"Murda, murda, " your life's on the line

Y'all niggas don't want no part of me
Y'all tryna figure out how y'all started me
You gon' make me catch you on a late night
Pop shots with the fifth
Then slide off in the six

I'm not a marksman while sparking
So I spray random not a pretty nigga
But my moms think I'm handsome
I hate to hear "He say, she say" shit
Unless he say she said she on my dick
It's no coincidence
Niggas who fuck with me get shot up (Blat)
Do it Cali style
Drive by and tear your block up
You soft, duke, you putting up a crazy front
I stay with the Mac 'cause niggas
Tried to blaze me once
In the hood, they like, "Damn
50 really spit it on 'em"
"You heard that shit?" "yeah
50 really shitted on 'em"
Beef you don't want none, so don't start none
You're just a small player in
This game play your part, son

Scream, "Murda, " I don't believe you
"Murda, " fuck around and leave you
"Murda, " I don't believe you
"Murda, murda, " your life's on the line

These cats always escape reality
When they rhyme (Uh huh, uh huh)
That's why they write about bricks
And only dealt with dimes (yeah)
Leave it to them
And they say they got a fast car
NASCAR, truck with a crash bar
And TVs in the dash, pa
See 'em in the five with
Stock rims, I just laugh, pa
(Ha ha ha)
I catch stunts when I ain't trying
I ain't lying i sip Dom P til I spit up
Keep my wrist lit up
Get outta line, I get you hit up (Woo)
Now if you say my name in your rhyme
You better watch what you say
You get carried away
You can get shot and carried away
Now here's a list of MCs that
Could kill you in eight bars
50, um jay-Z and Nas
I'ma say this shit now and never again
We ain't buddies, we ain't partners
And we damn sure ain't friends
The games you playing you
Get killed like that
Acting like you all hard you
Ain't built like that
See me when you see me, nigga! WHAT!

Scream, "Murda, " I don't believe you
"Murda, " fuck around and leave you
"Murda, " I don't believe you
"Murda, murda, " your life's on the line

Y'all niggas don't want no parts of me
You tryna figure out how y'all started me
You gon' make me catch you on a late night
Pop shots with the fifth
Then slide off in the six