bring you fake G's to yah knees Copin' pleas with these Little Kim is yah Coked up or doped up Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up What the
friends much fuck dodging the D's I had a M-1 cock quick block on knees Who the youngest thug that ever lived blocks I quoting I'm a legend and these
G'd up from the feet up And no I ain't braggin' I got gun to spray ya block up Like I'm taggin' Niggas better back the fuck up Before I drag em' I be
,G-Unit (repeat) (50 Cent-between Banks) G-Unit nigga that's what's up (repeat 6x) (50 Cent) I blast 50 Cent nigga that's what's up (Lloyd Banks) Right
New York So everybody'll pick em up, kissin em up Treatin' them like they own, in dis hood we call home Fist fight till we grown and these guns come out
Styles P] Akon [Akon] The tough stay tough [Styles P] Styles P [Akon] Up front Let's go Konvict [Akon] We in too deep to turn back now D [Styles
: Out in the street, they call it murder (Fuck D-Block) Verse 1 Tony Yayo: Guns a place up Gimme dat pen and dat Jacob One false move you get spread
out to all the hoods in the D Glen Street, 7 Mile, Coney Gardens, School Craft Just thinkin back on how crazy that shit was Roamin the block, makin somethin
chin up, you get hit, ten down and ten up (what?) I take it if you run your mouth, then you wanna get sent up Heat it up, you be leakin blood and spittin
about two-thirds'd really set it without words Yo you ain't a thug, I can make you bitch up Pick the fifth up, cock, spit, you would swear it's rainin
em And shot blocks up in the black or the light Timbs White boys, look, act, and rap like Slim ("Hi!") Fight Music, knife users never respect it Guns
jus' left alone And I ain't even tryna go there wit record sales I'm just tryna keep it humble and respect myself Say what up, keep steppin, and just rep D
Movin' Yola on these streets, what'you say son? [Esham] Time to cook up, got the California hook-up My paper's stacked like skyscrapers, gotta look up
yo block wit 16 shots and watch y'all drop And ain't nobody gettin up, (un)less they in the wheelchair Sittin up or spittin up, either way I don't give
track look easy The walkie talkies them D-E-T's had, black, they was rated P.G. Run, I will not give up, no, quick flag the car down Take me to.. Ghost
cloth Big guns ready to bang off Slide off the cables and take the rings off! [Verse 2] We hold the weight of four Synagogues Jelly'd uptown in them
ya cheap tux' We make it hard for you niggaz to keep up Been thru a hundred towns, and running, beating the streets up Come up north in New York, down
Well this what we gon' 'do, man We gon' flush all these rats out the system Knowhatimean, set a few traps Get they ass up out of here, yeah, yo [Trife
