50 Cent We Up Lyrics

Artist: 50 Cent
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I'm around the bullshit like a matador
I'm used to the bullshit, it don't matter, boy
Corporate acquisitions, accumulations of wealth
Build with the gods and double knowledge of self
Entrepreneur visions, Moulin Rouge religion
That ***** make a weak ***** break down
So what you want, the cheese or the chicks'
You want the chicks but you want the cheese
A ***** gotta eat
I'm havin' the epiphany you *****s ain't **** to me
Worse than the scum in the slum I'm from
I'm a southside *****, yeah I'm 'bout mine
You be that next ***** coroners come and outline
You ain't made of what I'm made of
You a bum ***** with a bum *****
Your shoes come from Vegas
Counterfeit, fraudulent fakers
What kind of rich ***** ***** look like that

You all know when we pullin' off the lot
Brake, hit the button, then we pullin' down the top
Shine's on stuntin' and I'm pullin' out a knot
Strapped with the glock, won't pull it out a lot
But front, I'll make it pop
Y'all don't do it how we do
*****s ain't on the **** we on
Everything new
Spikes on the Louis Vuittons
We up, *****!

Visualize everything I needed and dream (uh-huh)
Penalized every ho ***** that have a scheme (what else?)
Guns in your video get you locked in a bing
Yeah, I kill a ***** quick, no worries, my record clean
Murder one become manslaughter as soon as they brought up
Charity work, parking tickets and no charges
**** ***** you ****ed over your father when he gave you a ****
Should have been a ***** in pajamas
I made my first million ****ing dollars
Bought a Bible, oh yeah, God got me
Made my second million dollars, bought a chopper and a binocular
I'm scared, this **** don't happen to everybody
I'm on Instagram looking at your favorite singer
Debating on should I **** her or jump on her single
20 thou, she got a hell of a adlib
I'm in her mouth like I knew I could have kids, K-Dot


Good ***** for dinner, bomb kush for breakfast
Deep-colored VS stones around my neck *****
It feels like a ***** dreamin’
Seat back, music bumpin’, *****s leanin’
Bulls eye, that’s what we came for
The bread, now a ***** run the game boy
I should’ve sent the broad to report what’s in the yard
Aloof livin’, I came up so hard
No pain, no gain, it’s embedded in the brain
I’m in it for the grip, ********** the fame

The hottest lyrics from 50 Cent