My mama me to Sam Goody's I to buy a 50 Cent CD I took shit home That was wack like a muthafucka Don't with Game
I like 50 He me Spongebob And Tony Yayo is Clues And Banks is Dora the Explorer They're my
I went down one of them Bodaga shits right there in Got me a bootleg Lloyd and Young Buck CD that shit home, put it in my boom box Thought I was bout to be on some radio shit Man that shit like some Vanessa Williams '88 I Olivia cute but they say that bitch a man So this Black for life now GGG-UNOT!
300 and Runnin Just loan me your ears for 15 Walk me
the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the holster Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them *****z toy soldiers Oh, that boy colder Hova unless he sober I'm the president, but this ain't the takeover Now, there's the speaker, bring your a little closer Before you call this a diss, and you make pissed Why I wanna do that? When I'm just the new cat That was taught if a ***** take shots to back his yard, yeah standing his ground I'm if you gonna retire, then hand me the crown Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a in Madison square Watch everybody through it We can go bar for bar, let the lines speak to 'em What they say? Bleek is let Chris and Neef do it They say the wrong thing, I'ma 'em silly you thought? Them was the only *****z that rapped in Philly? See them with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly Then in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly ?? said Curtis Jack in Make a U-turn, I gotta go back to I forgot my cheese stake, that's what I the cops So wouldn't get the dogs start searching for the glock And I can't forget, B.I.G. got by the cops Even I was To Die, when I heard that he was shot What's beef? Beef is when I murk you on the Labels many things, still searching for they Pac I put on the block So I don't feel threatened when Ludacris say he coming for the #1 Ask 50, it get on top You can hate me or love me, but now the the only homies he got When it's beef we eat, we win, but we lonely we pop You sell but a GGG-u not! big on the radio, to me you not You can ask Mr. CCC who hot Tony Yayo I bet 10 G's you Run up on new 300 C you got Stop hoping I fall, the bleeding stop And I you black out before you see the cops I ain't High Top from Colors, I'm from Cedar What i got in my high will make your breathing stop I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check CD shop I'm like Elvis in there, they can't he dropped Now I'm moving on up to George and Weezy's I picked up where my Eazy stopped I saw the west coast, put the shit on my Sprayed Aftermath on it, then the strap It get hot in here, let rap Bring to *****z when Dre producing a track Take it to the streets, put the duece to your hat Then call up the pigs, tell them the back Jadakiss, tell him that duke is back I'm still by your side, no who comes strapped Fuck Banks, it ain't about who can rap about when the ruger clap, is rufus back I see you thinkin, you want me to die, is that so? Now you left back, thanks to Fat Joe You got in heaven, you ready? Let's go Drop them off, pop cristal wit Esko I'm a say he hit me first, if me and Dre All Nas said was he had a 3-4 Now that's the eulogy, is kinda foolish see *****z running their mouth about what the fuck gon' do to me But quit the yapping before I to clapping And you gon' see the captain plans of getting me captured Even bars, I'm still gon' shine I'm 10 years than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine Then I go right back, ***** I pop How you gon' Olivia, you only drop dimes I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in vest dog I don't need 50 Cent, my make collect calls 1-800-split a faggot wig He got G-Unit wings, them off the Queens Bridge Now your career is over, career is We in QB, banging CNN in the T-O-N-Y, that's the phony You the talk of New York, your sixteens is boring Take that off lingo, go back to PC And tell 50 Cent you want a of Beef 3 I'm their ass out on DVD You wanna like Lloyd Banks repeat after me I'm a G-Unit toy On Sesame doing voice overs Bitch ass need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines Sound like Oscar the Grouch, them nursery rhymes We was in the studio, when I first got He got stuck, he 50 tryna borrow some lines That's the wrong *****, when you need help with your All he gon' you is say G-Unit one more time Got mad 'cause I wanna make your beef mine You got lucky with Ja, why you aint go at He freestyled from the pen, that's the fact Said he'd put you with your mom, and you ain't with that Then you lied about your pops, he never bust no cap Like Father, Like Son, go ask that I knew from the beginning not to those cats I'd kill 'em all, if I could Justo back The underground is mine, I it like home It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones The underground is mine, I it like home It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones The is mine, I treat it like home It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike I The is mine, I treat it like home It's the *****z saying my name like Mike Jones And I'm far from Houston but you can chop it and it Do whatever to it, but it in the the shit moving 'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I could do it Came with two hundred, ***** is more than music Even Dre it, that boy hot like summer Both in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin And I beef with any *****, say my name muthafuck I'm You can put it on if you want it air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue And them shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe I Funk Flex when I catch the ***** Whoo Kid We gon' see if he know how to DJ with bruised hit me on the sidekick asking what you did Get a gun or ask police to use his Bloods gonna get ya Bloods Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that chain 380 spill brains, when I pop shots Outside NY, in front of hip-hop Or broad day in L.A., tell Em and Dre ***** bootlegging my music, ain't nothing for him to say Took me off my own songs, put it on his tapes So take him out his house, put the beam on his face Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him for the jakes 'cause when you fucking Jayceon, you can believe in L.A. For caking off on them CD's and tapes Ask them to scratch a record, you see he fake If 50 was Puffy, you'd run and go get him a cake Take the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant Not the replay I mean the machine that G-Unit use every 50 on stage singing like Bitches only feel your shit a lil bit *****z feel your shit just a lil bit On my album 50 me just a lil bit on two songs, now back to some killa shit My clips bananas, I kill a quick Beating on chest, I see to your death, yep Tell Ecko to him a suit Reebock to make him some boots Get him a head band, to the holes in his head He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters Redman Banks blacked out and let the gun blam a M-E-T-H-O-D Man So the lieutenant gotta ask for his Take my advice, never air max for the pen Unless you one of the Bloods, or a king 'cause if your left with the Aryans ass will sting And your mate is a 25 to lifer They'll stab you at Folsom then you on Rikers And Life On Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and said he write my He told Vibe Dre was gonna me on the shelf So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept them for ***** stop tough before I stand over you Show you how The live on top of The Massacre Make a move I'm your ass to the last one Ten shots the Mack empty the rest in the passenger yelling thats enough, let the coroner bag him up Throw in Makaveli and the doors on the Maganum Gun smoking, Fase think I'm backing up the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic, what Hip-Hop on my left, but I pass 'em up The Dodge got a hemmy in it, Game got a in 'em In and out of like a New York cab I'm Mr. Ol' King, that New cab this fake *****, on pictures with the Jake *****? Got his crew starving 'cause he aint the cake, ***** He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., Jigga If he ain't Cube or Pac then who you We tired of you talkin about who you shot I'll use six bars to tell you who you not You 50 Cent, he went out like a gangsta You went out with Vivica, three months after Get or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot Now the same wanna take us to the Candy Shop C'mon man, happened to the thug? Now you could in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging ***** got mad when The start buzzing So fuck making friends now I'm into throwing talking about we a family, Game had to go ***** I'll smack ho like I'm Jackie-O 'cause I don't wanna be cool, I don't be you I don't wanna hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes Don't want you on my hooks, wanna be in your group Just wanna sit here and To be gone, so I can head back to the Fresh Nike airs and the matching socks fitted
Pull the brim low, if don't get it Coup on gold daytons, I was the first one with it Four platinum, I done been there and did it Came in the game and shitted, wiped my ass with it say the Lord givth, if Lord take it away So I build a on top of Hip-Hop, I'll wait for the day *****z hating on me, they don't want Jayceon to And the DA waiting on Jayceon to make a So they can put me in the squad car and lock me Give me a odd job in the pen for pay Let me out so I can drive criminal way the rock, nah this ain't no subliminal Jay The summer too hot, and I the winter to stay 'cause I'm a cold ***** when I put the pen to the Similar to them shells into my gauge I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them into And Blaze, 'cause the boy got game I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc chain Now back to reality, my gun and my And if diamonds are forever, I'm Kanye West Take a at my chest, a hundred thou at jacob Whole crew got chains, a hundred thou break 'em And the flow is hot that wit Satan And the thing I got spinning is Daytons The hotter I get the willing to snake 'em So soon as the beat drop, where I take 'em Compton Swap meet, to get me All-Stars When Game in the house, they callin all 'cause they heard about what on in D.C. Heard about Hot 97, my beef 50
Now me do he got a conscience? I not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in this nonsense Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this I'd be pushing rock, like Samantha Ronson 50 in my ear, like we still bonding We ain't friends, I'm just acting Charles Bronson Middle finger in the air, one on my Johnson Hip-Hop on me like I'm the convict What to the old school? I thought it was rhyming Doug E. and Daina Dane on the corner like Common Now that ain't common, it's like Top Ramen The flow is noodles, I throw it up vomit And I shine like diamonds They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like It's Aftermath, two feet in the paint shit. I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I because I'm in the hood politican, liffin' And I keep a black .45 on the of my prada denim Chip on my like I'm fresh outta prison vision, blow a hundred thou like my wallet missing Then re-up like kid the d-cup Continuously getting money my feet up Chasing the throne, my black Air Force I said fuck Benzino and got the cover of The me? If not then I guess you gotta kill me But you ain't gon' do so muthafucka move back While I do B.I.G. and impersonations on two tracks When I wake the dead, everybody hats We miss ya'll, can I get a clap? Now back to rap, why I gotta stay On that T-I-P, kill you ASAP They won't know hole to patch up, when the K clap I tried to you Young Buck, now it's time for payback It go, how you from but you ain't got no cash nigga? Say my name now that's your ass nigga Kept your mouth shut and I you a pass nigga Now I gotta lay you like the last nigga Buck, buck, buck from my This nigga playing with his life, I have to put him in heaven Tryna the game, talking shit up on the stereo Prepare for burial, it's when I'm reincarnating And you don't want David 'cause you love your life Get my Vibe, when it's war he pull out butter Muthafucka show you who the gangsta All you do is Inc., now who the wanksta? When had you, you were stranded on Tha Row Juve you for dead and went back to the NO 50 heard you on the tour bus and felt little flow Then he you temporary replacement for Yayo You a bitch, and hard to swallow And you got robbed for your G-Unit chain in Chicago I my nigga Jojo to get it back He had the shit in his hands, and you had the ten stacks Picture that, I thought we was Then you ran and told 50 that I did shit Ask C-Murder, the boy hard to find I told Monica when I him The Boy is Mine one shot of Brandy and pop Watch his panties drop, I run inside the Candy Shop Fuck you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the And Olivia, I for a man she hot Now I'm running out of breath, like I just boxed Got 20 bars to go, lay it down like sheet Don't worry the flow, the boy know he hot Hurricanes in November, nigga fuck Reebocks I'm fly like a on a tree top The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I three spots 280 in, no getting me back I'm yelling the world, on my victory lap first it was Buddens, then it was Bleek Now whoever muthafucka, yeah, who want beef? Now whenever muthafucka, who see me? In the coffin, body exhausted, resting in You don't want war nigga, you want So give 'em the peace, (sp?) Let 'em in peace From to east the flow is outdatable, irreplacable Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm with Satan And I slipped 'em the ace, you replace 'em If Eazy ever decide to return, I remain A in the making, and the throne is for the taking So I the mountain top and put my stake in Got the of the world on my shoulder Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me from taking it This is crack music, go get the soda 300 Bars and Runnin, the wait is over I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone