My mama took me to Sam I to buy a 50 Cent CD I took that shit That was wack like a muthafucka Don't with Game
I 50 Cent He me Spongebob And Tony Yayo is Clues And Lloyd is Dora the Explorer my friends
I went down one of them Bodaga shits there in Harlem Got me a bootleg Lloyd Banks and Young CD Took that shit home, put it in my box Thought I was bout to be on some radio shit Man that shit like some Vanessa Williams '88 I mean Olivia cute but they say that a man So this Black Wallstreet for now GGG-UNOT!
300 Bars and Just loan me ears for 15 minutes with me
Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them they toy soldiers Oh, boy colder than Hova unless he sober Like I'm the president, but this ain't the Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a closer Before you this a diss, and you make Hova pissed Why would I wanna do When I'm just the new cat That was taught if a ***** take shots to shoot Defending his yard, standing his ground I'm saying if you retire, then hand me the crown Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a concert in square Watch sleep through it We can go bar for bar, let the lines speak to 'em What they say? Bleek is over let and Neef do it They say the wrong thing, smack 'em silly What you Them was the only *****z that rapped in Philly? See *****z with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly Then dash in groups like Beanie Mac in ?? Curtis Jack in Philly Make a U-turn, I gotta go to Philly 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 murdered by the I was Ready To Die, when I heard that he was shot What's Beef is when I murk you on the spot Labels signing many things, searching for they Pac I put purple on the So I don't feel threatened when Ludacris say he for the #1 spot Ask 50, it get on top You can hate me or love me, but now the cops the only he got When beef we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop You sell records but a not! big on the radio, to me you not You can ask Mr. CCC who hot Tony I bet 10 G's you flop 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 tops will make your stop I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check CD shop I'm like Elvis in there, they can't believe he Now I'm moving on up to and Weezy's spot I up where my homeboy Eazy stopped I saw the west coast, put the on my back Sprayed Aftermath on it, loosened the strap It get hot in here, let rap Bring hell to when Dre producing a track Take it to the streets, put the duece to your hat Then call up the pigs, tell them the rooster's Call Jadakiss, tell him duke is back I'm still by your side, no who comes strapped Fuck Banks, it ain't about who can rap It's about when the ruger clap, is rufus I see what you thinkin, you 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 the eulogy, beef is kinda foolish see *****z running their mouth about what the fuck they do to me But quit the yapping before I proceed to And you gon' see the captain with plans of 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 mines How you gon' Olivia, you only drop dimes I knew you changed, you started sleeping in that vest dog I don't need 50 Cent, my *****z collect calls 1-800-split a faggot wig He got G-Unit wings, throw them off the Bridge Now your career is over, career is We in QB, banging CNN in the T-O-N-Y, that's the phony You ain't the of New York, your sixteens is boring Take that off lingo, go back to PC And tell 50 Cent you want a copy of 3 I'm their ass out on DVD You rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat after me I'm a G-Unit toy On Sesame street doing overs Bitch ass ***** need a rhyme dictionary, to his lines Sound Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes We was in the studio, when I first got He got stuck, he called 50 tryna some lines That's the wrong *****, when you need help with your All he gon' tell you is say one more time Got mad I ain't wanna make your beef mine You got lucky with Ja, why you go at Shyne? He freestyled from the pen, that's the fact Said he'd put you with your mom, and you fucked with that Then you lied about pops, he ain't never bust no cap Like Father, Like Son, go ask that I knew from the beginning not to those cats I'd 'em all, if I could bring Justo back The underground is mine, I treat it home It's the reason *****z saying my like Mike Jones The is mine, I treat it like home the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones The underground is mine, I treat it like It's the reason *****z saying my like Mike Jones I The is mine, I treat it like home It's the reason *****z saying my name Mike Jones And I'm far from Houston but you can it and screw it Do whatever to it, but it in the store the shit Gave 'em a 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 skee if you it I'll air you out on King, Mike, or Clue And watch shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe I told Funk Flex when I catch the ***** Kid We gon' see if he know how to DJ with bruised Don't hit me on the sidekick asking you did Get a gun or ask police to use his 'cause Bloods get ya Bloods Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville 380 spill brains, when I pop shots Outside NY, in front of cops Or broad day in L.A., I'ma Em and Dre This ***** bootlegging my music, ain't for him to say me off my own songs, then put it on his tapes So I'ma take him out his house, put the beam on his Drop him off at Squad, let him scream for the jakes 'cause when you fucking with Jayceon, you can in L.A. For caking off *****z on CD's and tapes Ask to scratch a record, you will see he fake If 50 was Puffy, run and go get him a cheese cake Take the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant Not the replay I mean the machine that use every time 50 on stage singing like only feel your shit just a lil bit *****z feel your shit just a lil bit On my album 50 me just a lil bit Only on two songs, now back to some shit My clips bananas, I kill a gorilla Beating on your chest, I see to death, yep Ecko to make him a suit Tell Reebock to make him boots Get him a head band, to cover the holes in his He a dead man for thinking he can through muddy waters like Redman Banks out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man So the gotta ask for his strings Take my advice, wear air max for the pen Unless you one of the Bloods, or a king 'cause if your left with the Aryans your ass sting And your cell is a 25 to lifer They'll stab you at Folsom fuck you on Rikers And Goes On Now back to the coward of the who lied and said he write my songs He told Vibe Dre was leave me on the shelf So he gave me all his hits, you should've them for yourself ***** stop acting tough before I over you Show you how The Documentary on top of The Massacre Make a move I'm your ass to the last one Ten shots from the Mack empty the in the passenger yelling thats enough, let the coroner bag him up Throw in Makaveli and lift the on the Maganum Gun smoking, Fase think I'm backing up Reverse the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic, Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I 'em up The Dodge got a hemmy in it, got a Remy in 'em In and out of lanes like a New cab I'm Mr. Ol' King, New York cab Who's this fake *****, on pictures with the *****? 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 another six bars to you who you not You ain't 50 Cent, he out like a gangsta You went out with Vivica, three months wanksta Get Rich or Die Tryin, we you was hot Now the ***** wanna take us to the Candy Shop man, what happened to the thug? Now you could find in the club, him and Lloyd hugging ***** got mad when The start buzzing So fuck making friends now I'm into throwing Olivia talking about we a family, had to go ***** I'll smack ho like I'm Jackie-O I don't wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you I don't wanna shake hands, or wear your G-Unit Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in group Just wanna sit here and To be gone, so I can head back to the Fresh white Nike airs and the socks fitted
Pull the brim low, if they get it Bentley Coup on daytons, I was the first one with it Four times platinum, I done there and did it Came in the game and shitted, wiped my ass with it They say the Lord givth, if Lord it away So I a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll wait for the day hating on me, they don't want Jayceon to play And the DA on Jayceon to make a mistake So they can put me in the car and lock me away me a odd job in the pen for minimum pay Let me out so I can down criminal way Pushing the rock, nah this no subliminal Jay The summer too hot, and I the winter to stay 'cause I'm a cold ***** I put the pen to the page Similar to them going into my gauge I 'em off to Dre, he turned them into granades And Blaze, 'cause the boy got game Like I close my eyes, and up in a Roc chain Now back to reality, my gun and my And if diamonds are forever, then I'm West a look at my chest, a hundred thou at jacob Whole crew got chains, a hundred thou break 'em And the flow is hot like that wit And the thing I got spinning is Daytons The I get the more willing to snake 'em So soon as the beat drop, where I take 'em Swap meet, to get me some All-Stars When Game in the house, they all cars 'cause they heard about what on in D.C. about Hot 97, my beef with 50
Now me do he got a conscience? I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in this Wouldn't be in Harlem, be at this conference I'd rather be pushing rock, like Ronson 50 whispered in my ear, we still bonding We ain't friends, I'm just acting like Bronson Middle finger in the air, one on my Johnson Hip-Hop police on me like I'm the What happened to the old I thought it was rhyming Doug E. Fresh and Daina on the corner like Common Now that ain't common, more like Top Ramen The flow is noodles, I throw it up vomit And I shine like diamonds They me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like Rodman still 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 side of my prada on my shoulder like I'm fresh outta prison Dollar vision, blow a hundred thou my wallet missing Then re-up like kid the d-cup Continuously getting money my feet up Chasing the throne, here my black Air I said fuck Benzino and got the of The Source Feel me? If not I guess you gotta kill me But you ain't do that 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 hand Now back to rap, why I gotta strapped? On that murder T-I-P, kill you They won't know which hole to patch up, the K clap I to spare 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 fucking ass nigga Kept your mouth shut and I gave you a nigga Now I gotta lay you down like the last Buck, buck, from my AK-47 This nigga playing his life, I might have to put him in heaven Tryna play the game, talking up on the stereo for burial, it's when I'm reincarnating Harry-O And you don't want that David 'cause you love your Get my Vibe, when it's war he out butter knifes Muthafucka I'ma show you who the All you do is Inc., now who the wanksta? When Suge had you, you 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 made you temporary replacement for You a bitch, and that's to swallow And you got robbed for your spinning G-Unit in Chicago I call my nigga Jojo to get it He had the shit in his hands, and you ain't had the ten that, I thought we was G-Unit Then you ran and told 50 I did that shit Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't to find I Monica when I catch him The Boy is Mine Take one of Brandy and pop Watch his panties drop, when I run 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 beat boxed Got 20 to go, lay it down like sheet rock Don't worry the flow, the boy know he hot in store 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, ain't no me back I'm fuck the world, on my victory lap Remember it was Buddens, then it was Bleek Now it's muthafucka, yeah, who want beef? Now whenever muthafucka, who see me? In the coffin, body exhausted, in peace You don't want war nigga, you want So give 'em the peace, (sp?) Let 'em in peace From west to east the flow is outdatable, 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 Jayceon A king in the making, and the throne is for the So I climb the mountain top and put my in Got the of the world on my shoulder Not a nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me from taking it over This is crack music, go get the soda 300 Bars and Runnin, nigga the wait is I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone