Get Rich or Die Tryin’ Album

Artist(s): 50 Cent

Cover Art

50 Cent Get Rich or Die Tryin’ Cover Art

Tracklist

Intro

length: 0:07

[2 Quarters fall onto a table]

[Gun is being loaded and than cocked]

What Up Gangsta

producer: Reef
vocal: 50 Cent
mixer: Dr. Dre
recording engineer: Carlisle Young, Mauricio “Veto” Iragorri and Mike Strange
additional keyboard: Mike Elizondo
assistant engineer: Ruben Rivera
writer: Reef, 50 Cent
G-Unit (Bo!) We in here (Bo!)
We can get the drama popping, we don't care (Bo! bo! bo!)
It's going down (Bo!) Cause I'm around (Bo!)
50 Cent, you know how I gets down

[Chorus: x2]
What up, Blood? (What?)
What up, Cuz? (What?)
What up, Blood? (What?)
What up, gangsta?

They say I walk around like got an S on my chest
Naw, that's a semi-auto, and a vest on my chest
I try not to say nothing, the DA might want to play in court
But I'll hunt or duck a ***** down, like it's a sport
Front on me, I'll cut ya gun-butt ya or bump ya
You getting money? I can't get none with ya, then **** ya
I'm not the type to get knocked for D.W.I
I'm the type that'll kill your connect when the coke price rise
Gangstas, they bump my ****, them they know me
I grew up around some *****s that's not my homies
Hundred G's I stash it (what) the mack I blast it (yeah)
D's come we dump the diesel and battery acid
This flow's been mastered, the ice I flash it
Jux me, I'll have your mama picking out your casket, bastard
I'm on the next level, Breitling baguette bezel
Benz pedal to the metal, hotter than a tea kettle, blood (what)

[Chorus: x2]

We don't play that
We don't play that
We don't play that (G-Unit)
We don't play around

I sit back, twist the best bud, burn and wonder
When gangstas bump my ****, can they hear my hunger?
When the 5th kick, duck quick, it sounds like thunder
In December I'll make your block feel like summer
The rap critics say I can rhyme
The fiends say my dope is a nine, every chick I **** with is a dime
I'm like Patti LaBelle, homie, I'm on my own
Where I lay my hat is my home, I'm a rolling stone
Cross my path I'll crush ya, thinking I won't touch ya
I'll have your *** using a wheelchair, cane or crutches
Industry hoes **** us, in the hood they love us
Stomp a bone out your *** with some brand new Chuckers

[Chorus: x2]

[Repeat: x4]
We don't play that
We don't play that
We don't play that (G-Unit)
We don't play around

Patiently Waiting

length: 4:49
producer: Eminem
vocal: 50 Cent
mixer: Eminem and Steve King
recording engineer: Sha Money XL
guest: Eminem
keyboard: Mike Elizondo and Luis Resto
writer: Luis Resto, Mike Elizondo, Eminem, 50 Cent
[50 Cent]
Hey Em, you know you my favorite white boy right?
I owe you for this one

[Chorus]
I've been patiently waiting for a track to explode on
You can stun if you want and your *** will get rolled on
It feels like my flows been hot for so long
If you thinking I'm ****ing fall off your so wrong

[50 Cent]
Innocent in my head, like a baby born dead
Destination heaven, sit and politic with passengers from nine eleven
The lords blessings leave me lyrically inclined
**** I ain't even gotta try to shine
God's the seamstress that tailor fitted my pain
I got scriptures in my brain I could spit at your dame
Straight out the good book, look, *****s is shook
50 fears no man, warrior swing swords like Conan
Picture me pen in hand write lines knowing the source'll quote it
When I die, they'll read this and say a genius wrote it
I grew up without my pops should that make me bitter?
I caught cases I copped out does that make me a quitter?
In this white man's world I'm similar to a squirrel
Lookin for a slut with a nice butt to get a nut
If I get shot today my phone will stop ringing again
These industry *****z ain't friends, they know how to pretend

[Chorus: x2 Eminem]
Patiently waiting to make it through all the hating
Debating whether or not you could even weather the storm.
Just lay on the table they operating to save you
Its like an angel came to you sent from the heavens above

[Eminem]
They think they're crazy but they ain't crazy lets face it, **** basically
They just playing sick, they ain't **** They ain't saying ****, spray 'em Fifty
A to the K, get in the way I'll bring Dre and them wit me
And turn this day into ****ing mayhem you staying with me?
Don't let me lose you, I'm not trying to confuse you
When I let loose with this Uzi and just shoot through your Isuzu
You get the message am I getting through to you?
You know whats coming you ************s don't even know do you?
Take some Big and some Pac and you mix them up in a pot
Sprinkle a little Big L on top, and what the **** do you got?
You got the realest and illest killers tied up in a knot
The Juggernauts of this rap **** like it or not
Its like a fight to the top just to see who died for the spot
You put your life in this, nothing like surviving the shot
Y'all know what time it is as soon as Fifty signs on this dot
**** what you know about death threats, 'cause I get a lot
Shady Records was eighty seconds away from the towers
Some cowards ****ed with the wrong building they meant to hit ours
Better evacuate all children - nuclear shower
There's nothing spookier, you're now about to witness the power of ****in Fifty

[Chorus: x2]

The guns spark when the shots go off
Its fifty, they say its Fifty
See a ***** laid out with his ****ing top blown off
Its fifty, man that wasn't Fifty, they don't holla my name

[50 Cent]
You shouldn't throw stones if you live in a glass house
And if you got a glass jaw, you should watch your mouth
Cause I'll break your face, have your *** running
Mumbling to the Jake, you going against me dog you making a mistake
Ill split you have you looking like the Michael Jackson's jackets with all them zippers
I'm the boss on this boat, you can call me skipper
The way I turn the money over you should call me flipper
Your *****, a regular *****, you calling her wifey
I ****ed her, I feed her fast food, you keeping her icy
I'm down to sell records but not my soul
Snoop said this in 94' "We don't love them hoes"
I got pennies for my thoughts, now I'm rich
See the twenty's spinning looking mean on the six
*****s wearing flags, 'cause the colors match they clothes
They get caught in the wrong hood and get filled up with holes (************).

[Chorus: x2]

[50 Cent]
Its fifty

Many Men (Wish Death)

length: 4:17
producer: Digga
vocal: 50 Cent
mixer: Steve King and Eminem
recording engineer: Sha Money XL
additional producer: Eminem and Luis Resto
additional keyboard: Luis Resto
writer: Digga, Freddie Perren, Keni St. Lewis, Luis Resto, 50 Cent
{Man we gotta go get something to eat man
I'm hungry as a ************}

{Ay yo man, damn what's taking homie so long son?}

{50, calm down, here he come}

{Ahh, ohh, what the ****?}

{Ahh! Son
Pull up! Pull up!}

Many men, wish death upon me
Blood in my eye, dawg and I can't see
I'm trying to be, what I'm destined to be
And *****z trying to take my life away
I put a hole in ***** for ****ing with me
My back on the wall, now you gon' see
Better watch how you talk, when you talk about me
'Cause, I'll come and take your life away

Many men many, many, many, many men
Wish death upon me, Lord I don't cry no more
Don't look to the sky no more
Have mercy on me

Now these ***** *****z putting money on my head
Go on and get your refund ************, I ain't dead
I'm the diamond in the dirt, that ain't been found
I'm the underground king and I ain't been crowned
When I rhyme, something special happen every time
I'm the greatest, something like Ali in his prime

I walk the block with the bundles
I've been knocked on the humble
Swing the ox when I rumble
Show your *** what my gun do
Got a temper *****, go ahead, lose your head
Turn your back on me, get clapped and lose your legs
I walk around gun on my waist, chip on my shoulder
Till I bust a clip in your face, *****, this beef ain't over

Many men, many, many, many, many men
Wish death upon me, Lord I don't cry no more
Don't look to the sky no more, have mercy on me
Have mercy on my soul, somewhere my heart turned cold
Have mercy on many men, many, many, many, many men
Wish death upon me

Some days wouldn't be special, if it wasn't for rain
Joy wouldn't feel so good, if it wasn't for pain
Death gotta be easy, 'cause life is hard
It'll leave you physically, mentally and emotionally scarred
This if for my *****z on the block, twisting trees and cigars
For the *****z on lock, doing life behind bars

I don't see only God can judge me, 'cause I see things clear
Quick these crackers will give my black *** a hundred years
I'm like Paulie in good fellas, you can call me the Don
Like Malcolm by any means, with my gun in my palm
Slim switched sides on me, let *****z ride on me
I thought we was cool, why you want me to die homie?

Many men, many, many, many, many men
Wish death upon me, Lord I don't cry no more
Don't look to the sky no more, have mercy on me
Have mercy on my soul, somewhere my heart turned cold
Have mercy on many men, many, many, many, many men
Wish death upon me

Every night I talk to God, but He don't say nothing back
I know He protecting me, but I still stay with my gat
In my nightmares, *****z keep pulling techs on me
Psych says some ***** dumb, put a hex on me
The feds didn't know much, when Pac got shot
I got a kite from the pens that told me, Tuck got knocked

I ain't gonna spell it out for you ************s all the time
Are you illiterate *****? You can't read between the lines
In the Bible it says, "What goes around, comes around"
Almost shot me, three weeks later he got shot down
Now it's clear that I'm here, for a real reason
'Cause he got hit like I got hit, but he ain't ****ing breathing

Many men, many, many, many, many men
Wish death upon me, Lord I don't cry no more
Don't look to the sky no more, have mercy on me
Have mercy on my soul, somewhere my heart turned cold
Have mercy on many men, many, many, many, many men
Wish death upon me

In da Club

length: 3:14
producer: Dr. Dre
vocal: 50 Cent
mixer: Dr. Dre
recording engineer: Sha Money XL and Mauricio “Veto” Iragorri
bass: Mike Elizondo
guitar: Mike Elizondo
keyboard: Mike Elizondo
co-producer: Mike Elizondo
assistant engineer: Francis Forde, Ruben Rivera and James McCrone
writer: Mike Elizondo, Dr. Dre, 50 Cent
Go, go, go, go go, go, go, shawty
It's your birthday
We gon' party like it's yo birthday
We gon' sip Bacardi like it's your birthday
And you know we don't give a ****
It's not your birthday!

[Chorus: x2]
You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub
Look mami I got the X if you into taking drugs
I'm into having sex, I ain't into making love
So come give me a hug if you into to getting rubbed

When I pull out up front, you see the Benz on dubs
When I roll twenty deep, it's twenty knives in the club
*****s heard I **** with Dre, now they want to show me love
When you sell like Eminem, and the hoes they want to ****
But homie ain't nothing change hold down, G's up
I see Xzibit in the Cutt that ***** roll that weed up
If you watch how I move you'll mistake me for a player or pimp
Been hit wit a few shells but I don't walk wit a limp
In the hood then the ladies saying "50 you hot"
They like me, I want them to love me like they love 'Pac
But holla in New York them *****s'll tell ya I'm loco
And the plan is to put the rap game in a choke hold
I'm feelin' focused man, my money on my mind
I got a mill out the deal and I'm still on the grind
Now shawty said she feeling my style, she feeling my flow
Her girlfriend want to get bi and they ready to go

[Chorus: x2]

My flow, my show brought me the dough
That bought me all my fancy things
My crib, my cars, my pools, my jewels
Look, *****, I came up and I ain't changed

And you should love it, way more then you hate it
***** you mad? I thought that you'd be happy I made it
I'm that cat by the bar toasting to the good life
You that fagot *** ***** trying to pull me back right?
When my junk get to pumping in the club it's on
I wink my eye at ya *****, if she smiles she gone
If the roof on fire, let the ************ burn
If you talking bout money homie, I ain't concerned
I'm a tell you what Banks told me cause go 'head switch the style up
If the *****s hate then let 'em hate
Watch the money pile up
Or we go upside there wit a bottle of bub
You know where we ****ing be

[Chorus: x2]

Don't try to act like you ain't know where we been either, *****
In the club all the time, *****, so it's a problem pop off, *****, G-Unit!

High All the Time

length: 4:30
producer: DJ Rad
vocal: 50 Cent
mixer: Eminem and Steve King
recording engineer: Sha Money XL
keyboard: Luis Resto
co-producer: Eminem and Sha Money XL
editor: Carlisle Young
writer: Carl Hampton, DJ Rad, Homer Banks, Luis Resto, Raymond Jackson, Sha Money XL, Eminem, 50 Cent
[Chorus]
I don't need Dom Perignon, I don't need Cris
Tanqueray and Alize, I don't need ****
***** I'm high all the time, I smoke that good ****
I stay high all the time, man I'm on some hood ****

Give me some dro, purple haze, and some chocolate
Give me a dutch and a lighter I'll spark ****
And stay high all the time, I smoke that good ****
I'm high all the time, man I'm on some hood ****

Every time I roll up, *****s holla roll up, and I tell 'em hold up,
You ain't getting money you ain't smoking
In my Benzo, 20 inch Lorenzos, smoking on indo
High as a ************
I be on them backstreets, *****s know I clap heat, only if you got beef
Man you better holla at me
*****s get locked up, stabbed up, shot up
Every time I pop up, a lot going on in my hood

I shoot the dice, I holler get 'em girls
Daddy need new shoes
Daddy need Perelli's to look mean on 22s
Stash box, Xbox, laptop, fax machine, phone
Bulletproof this ***** and I'm gone
2003 Suburban swerving, too many sips of Henny
The D's sick, they searched the whip and they can't find the semis
They was just harassing me cause they know who I was
Spent the night in Central Booking for smoking some bud

[Chorus]

Now if you heard I done started some ****
It ain't because I be high (I be high, I be high)
And if you heard I done let off a clip
It ain't because I be high (I be high, I be high)
But I- twist that la, la, la, la

I get high as I want to *****
Go against me, for sure, you's a goner *****
I don't smoke to calm my nerves but I got beef
Finna crush my enemies like I crush the hashish
If you love me, tell me you love me, don't stare at me man
I'd hate to be in the Benz clapping one of my fans
Let me show you how to greet me, when you meet me, when you see me
If you real my *****, you know how to holla "G-Unit!"
There's no competition, it's just me,
50 Cent, ************, I'm hot on these streets
If David could go against Goliath with a stone
I can go at Nas and Jigga, both for the throne

[Chorus]

Now who you know besides me who write lines and squeeze nines
And have hoes in the hood sniffing on white lines
You don't want me to be your kid's role model
I'll teach them how to buck them 380s and load up them hollows
Have shorty fresh off the stoop, ready to shoot
Big blunt in his mouth, deuce deuce in his boot
Sit in the crib, sipping Guinness, watching Menace
Then Oh Lord, have a young ***** bucking **** like he O-Dog
My team they depend on me when it's crunch time
I eat a ***** food in broad day like it's lunchtime
You feeling brave *****, go ahead get gully
See if I won't leave your brains leaking up out your skully
I done made myself hot, so ain't **** you can tell me
*****s calling me to feature, man **** your money
I ain't hurting, I'm doing good
I ain't got to write rhymes, I got bricks in the hood

[Chorus]

G-Unit, are you ready
G-Unit, are you ready
G-Unit, are you ready
*****, ready or not, here I come, come, come

Heat

length: 4:15
producer: Dr. Dre
vocal: 50 Cent
mixer: Dr. Dre
recording engineer: Sha Money XL and Mauricio “Veto” Iragorri
Rhodes piano: Ron “Neff-U” Feemster
keyboard: Thomas Joseph Coster, Jr. and Mike Elizondo
assistant engineer: Ruben Rivera, Francis Forde and James McCrone
writer: Mike Elizondo, Thomas Joseph Coster, Jr., Dr. Dre, 50 Cent
"Aye you want some of this ****"
"No, I don't want that ****"
"I don't give a ****, I don't play that ****"
"And I'm fin'nin to buss a cap in a *****"
"Man shut the **** up"
"Whoa slow down, slow down, slow down"
"You see that brick house right there"
"That's the ***** crib when he come out you gotta tighten his *** up"
"I'ma get in the other car"
"Alright" (a car revs up)

[Chorus: 50 Cent]
If there's beef, **** it and dump it, the drama really means nothing
To me I'll ride by and blow ya brains out (brains out)
There's no time to **** it, no way you can stop it
When *****s run up on you wit them things out (things out)
I do what I gotta do I don't care I if get caught
The DA can play this **********ing tape in court
I'll kill you - I ain't playing, hear what I'm saying, homie I ain't playing
Catch you slipping, I'ma kill you, I ain't playing, hear what I'm saying,
Homie I ain't playing

[50 Cent]
Keep thinking I'm candy till ya ****ing skull get popped
And ya brain jump out the top like Jack-in-da-box
In the hood summer time is the killing season
It's hot out this ***** that's a good 'nough reason
I've seen gangster's get religious when they start bleeding
Saying "Lord, Jesus Help Me" cause they *** leaking
When they window roll down and that A.K. come out
You can squeeze ya lil' handgun until you run out
And you can run for ya back-up
But them machine gun shells gone tear ya back up
God's on ya side, **** I'm alright with that
We reload them clips and come right back
It's a fact homie, you go against me ya ****ed
I get the drop, if you can duck, ya luckier then Lady Luck
Look *****, don't think you safe cause you moved out the hood
'cause ya momma still around dog, and daddy ain't good
If you was smart you'd be shook of me
Cause I'd get tired of looking for ya,
Spray ya momma crib, and let ya *** look
For me

[Chorus]

[50 Cent]
My heart bleeds for you *****, I can't wait to get to you
Behind that twinkle in ya eyes, I can see the ***** in you
***** you know the streets talk
So they'll be no white flags and no peace talks
I got my back against the wind, I'm down to ride till the sun burn out
If I die today, I'm happy how my life turned out
See the shootouts that I've been in I'm by myself
Locked up I was in a box by myself
I done made myself a millionaire by myself
Now, **** changed ************ I can hire some help
I done heard about the 50 grand you put in the hood
But ya shooter fin'nin to get get shot it won't do 'em no good
With a pistol I define the definition of pain
If you survive ya bones'll still ****ing hurt when it rain
Oh you a pro at playing battleship well this ain't the same
Lil homie this is a whole different type of war game
See the losers and up in shackles of **********ing chains
Or laid out in the streets leaking out they brains

[Chorus]

[50 Cent]
After the fist fights it's gunfire boy you get the best of me (best of me)
If you don't want to get shot I suggest you don't go testing me (testing me)
All the wrong I've done the Lord still keep on blessing me (blessing me)
Fin'nin to run rap 'cause Dr. Dre got the recipe (the recipe, recipe)

Yeah, uh ha, aye Dre
You got me feeling real bulletproof up in this ************
Cause my windows on my **********ing Benz is bulletproof *****
Cause my **********ing vest is bulletproof *****
Cause my **********ing hat is bulletproof *****
But the Doc said if I get hit I might get a ****ing concussion
Better that then a hole in the head right *****

If I Can’t

length: 3:17
producer: Dr. Dre
vocal: 50 Cent
mixer: Dr. Dre
recording engineer: Mauricio “Veto” Iragorri
bass: Mike Elizondo
guitar: Mike Elizondo
keyboard: Mike Elizondo
co-producer: Mike Elizondo
assistant engineer: Ruben Rivera, James McCrone and Francis Forde
writer: Mike Elizondo, Ron “Neff-U” Feemster, Dr. Dre, 50 Cent
Yea, ha ha, yea, yea

[Chorus: 50 Cent]
If I can't do well, homey, it can't be done
Now I'ma let the champagne bottle pop
I'ma take it to the top
For sure I'ma make it hot, baby (baby)

[Verse 1: 50 Cent]
I apply pressure to pussies that stunting I pop
Stand alone squeezing my pistol I'm sure that I gotta
Now Peter Piper picked peppers and don't rock rhymes
I'm 50 Cent, I write a lil bit but I pop nines
Tell *****s, "Get they money right," 'cause I got mine
And I'm around quit playing ***** you can't shine
You goin' be that next chump to end up in the trunk
After being hit by the pump, is that what you want?
Be easy *****, I'll lay your *** out
Believe me *****, that's what I'm about, gangsta
You could find a ***** sitting on chrome
Hit the clutch, hit the gear, hit the gas & I'm gone (Yea!)

[Chorus]

[50 Cent (Dr Dre)]
I'm down for the action, he smart with his mouth so smack em
You holding a strap, he might come back so clap em
React like a gangsta, die like a gangsta for acting
Cause you'll get hit and homicide'll be asking, "What happened?"
OH NO look who clapped em with the fo' fo'
20 inch rims sitting chrome!
Eastside, Westside *****s OH NO, NO GO
Even my mama said, "Something really wrong with my brain"
*****s don't rob me they know I'm down to die for my chain
G-UNIT! We get it popping in the hood
G-UNIT! ************ whats good?
I'm waiting on *****s to act like they don't know how to act
I had a sip of too much Jack, I'll blow em off the map
With the mack, thinking its all rap
Til that *** get clapped and Doc say "It's a wrap"

(It's a wrap, *****)

[Chorus]

[Verse 3: 50 Cent]
I been feeling I had to teach lessons to slow learners
Go head act up, get smacked in the head with the burner
I don't fight fair, I'm dirty-dirty
I'm from Southside Jamaica, Queens, ***** ya heard me?
When streetlights come on *****s blast the nines
Get locked up, they read books to pass the time
In the game there's up's and down's, so I stay on the grind
*****s on my **** more than my *****, I stay on they mind
They ain't nothing they could do to stop my shine
This is God's plan homey, this ain't mine
I played the music loud so Grandpa called me a nuisance
And Grandma, who always gotta throw in her two cent
I'm the drop out who made more more money than these teachers
Roofless/Ruthless like the Coupe but I come with more features
I am what I am, you could like it or love it
It feels good to pull 50 grand & think nothing of it
**** it

[Chorus: x2]

Uh huh, hood make it hot
Dr Dre, Aftermath
Shady, ha ha

Blood Hound

producer: Sean Blaze
vocal: 50 Cent
mixer: Steve King and Eminem
recording engineer: Sean Blaze and Sha Money XL
guest: Young Buck
writer: Sean Blaze, Young Buck, 50 Cent
G-Unit, UTP
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
G-Unit, UTP, G-Unit, UTP
G-Unit, UTP, 50 Cent, get 'em Buck, man

50 Cent, that's my name, man I ain't ****ing playing
I move on you with that Mac, mane
Come off that watch and chain 'fore I blow out your brains
Shells hit your chest, go out your back, mane
See me I put in work, man, I been doing dirt for so long
Then *****s get laid out
*****s run through my crib to holla at the kid
That's when I start bringing them thangs out
Then we go through the strip hanging up out the whip
Dumping clips off at their whole clique, mane
When witnesses around they know how we get down
So when the cops come they ain't see ****, mane
My soldiers slanging 'caine, sunny, snowy, sleet or rain
Come through the hood and you can cop that
I'm sittig' on some change, G-Unit that's the gang
Come through here stunting you get popped at

I love to pump crack, love to stay strapped
Love to squeeze gats, but you don't hear me though
I love to hit the block, I love my two Glocks
Love to bust shots, but you don't hear me though

I love to pump crack, love to stay strapped
Love to squeeze gats, but you don't hear me though
I love to hit the block, I love my two Glocks
Love to bust shots, but you don't hear me though

I came in this game knowing *****s gon' hate me
Just for the simple fact they know that I'm a rider
I got a hell of a aim, I keep on telling you, mane
I swear ain't nobody gon' find ya
When I get lifted I'm tempted to tear your block up
Your *****s can't run cause I'm behind ya
Me and Chili in your city with a couple nine-milli's
You better stay in line, bro
Cause if I walk it I'll talk it, you know we'll walk up and pop it
I love the sound of gunfire, bro
Right now we smacking 'em with platinum
And they hate it cause we made it, that's what we keep that iron for
I represent it cause I'm in it, UTP until I'm finished
Juvenile, they can't stop us and I admit it I live it
I'll knock a baller off his pivot with this **********ing chopper

I love to pump crack, love to stay strapped
Love to squeeze gats, but you don't hear me though
I love to hit the block, I love my two Glocks
Love to bust shots, but you don't hear me though

I love to pump crack, love to stay strapped
Love to squeeze gats, but you don't hear me though
I love to hit the block, I love my two Glocks
Love to bust shots, but you don't hear me though

My twenty-inches spinning, you always see me grinning
And you hear *****s call me grimy
They hit me with them bricks and I ain't pay 'em ****
I'm outta town, they can't find me
When I come back around, man, I'mma back 'em down
I run up busting that TEC, mane
If you ain't got a gun and you can't ****ing run
My advice is you hit the deck, mane
But if you get away and come back another day
My soldiers'll leave you wet, mane
Cause we know where you be and we know where you stay
And we'll come checking through your set, mane
Man, you heard what I said, now get it in your head
I ain't paying no ****ing debt, mane
Cause you's a middle man, what you don't understand?
You's a ****ing fake *** connect, mane

I love to pump crack, love to stay strapped
Love to squeeze gats, but you don't hear me though
I love to hit the block, I love my two Glocks
Love to bust shots, but you don't hear me though

I love to pump crack, love to stay strapped
Love to squeeze gats, but you don't hear me though
I love to hit the block, I love my two Glocks
Love to bust shots, but you don't hear me though

Back Down

length: 4:03
producer: Dr. Dre
vocal: 50 Cent
mixer: Dr. Dre
recording engineer: Mauricio “Veto” Iragorri, Thomas Rounds and Sha Money XL
keyboard: Ron “Neff-U” Feemster
additional: Tracie Spencer
bass & guitar & keyboard: Mike Elizondo
assistant engineer: James McCrone, Ruben Rivera and Kairi Cushnie
writer: Mike Elizondo, Ron “Neff-U” Feemster, Dr. Dre, 50 Cent
Yea, G-G-G-G-G-UNIT! (G-UNIT!)

[Chorus: 50 Cent]
It's easy to see when you look at me
If you look closely, 50 don't back down!
Everywhere I go both coasts wit toast
Eastside, Westside, I hold that mack down!
Every little ***** you see around me
Hold a gun big enough to ****ing hold Shaq down!
Next time you in the hood and see an ol G
You ask about me, the young boy don't back down!

Any living thing that cannot co-exist with the kid
Must decease existing, little *****, now listen
Yo mami, yo papi, that ***** you chasing
Ya little dirty *** kids, I'll ****ing erase them
Your success is not enough, you want to be hard
Knowing that, you get knocked, you get ****ed in the yard
You's a poptart sweetheart, you soft in the middle
I eat ya for breakfast, the watch was an exchange for your necklace
and your boss is a *****, if he could he would
Sell his soul for cheap, trade his life to be Suge
You can buy cars but you can't buy respect in the hood
Maybe I'm so disrespectful 'cause to me you're a mystery
I know *****s from ya hood, you have no history
Never poked nothin', never popped nothin', ***** stop frontin'
Jay put you on, X made you hot
Now you run around like you some big shot
Ha, ha *****

[Chorus]

"This rap **** is all ****ed up now! What are we gonna do now?
How we gonna eat man? 50 back around"

That's Ja's lil punk *** thinking out loud
Southside, Tah died, that's just how I get down
I'm back in the game shawty, to "Rule" and conquer
You sing for hoes and sound like the cookie monster
I'm the hardest from New York, my flow is bonkers
All the other hard *****s, they come from Yonkers
It's been years and you had the same *****s in the background
You never gonna sell and Mitsubishi Tah's a crack child
Them *****s they just suck, they no good
I ain't never heard a ***** say "they like them in the hood"
I'm back better than ever, on top of my game
Even them country boys saying "50 we feeling you man"
Now you stay the **** outta my zone, outta my throne
I'm New York City's own, bad guy (bad guy)

[Chorus]

I ain't telling anyone you *****
I ain't telling anyone you getting extorted
It ain't over (G-UNIT)
I've been patently waiting to blow
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the "50 Cent Show"
This is my life, my pain, my night, my gun
Now that I'm back, you can't sleep
I'm a nightmare huh
You hired cops to hold you down 'cause you fear for your life
You heard about them guns I done bought, right?
I ain't going no where, I done told you *****
I'ma G-Unit **********ing solider ***** (They not goin' like you)
I know, I know, ha, ha (G-UNIT)

P.I.M.P.

length: 4:10
producer: Mr. Porter
vocal: 50 Cent
mixer: Dr. Dre
recording engineer: Mauricio “Veto” Iragorri and Justin Bendo
assistant engineer: Francis Forde and Ruben Rivera
writer: Brandon "DirtyBird" Parrott, Mr. Porter, 50 Cent
[Chorus: x2]
I don't know what you heard about me
But a ***** can't get a dollar out of me
No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see
That I'm a **********ing P-I-M-P

Now shorty, she in the club, she dancing for dollars
She got a thing for that Gucci, that Fendi, that Prada
That BCBG, Burberry, Dolce and Gabana
She feed them foolish fantasies, they pay her cause they want to
I spit a little G man, and my game got her
A hour later, have that *** up in the Ramada
Them trick *****s in her ear saying they think about her
I got the ***** by the bar trying to get a drink up out her
She like my style, she like my smile, she like the way I talk
She from the country, think she like me cause I'm from New York
I ain't that ***** trying to holla cause I want some head
I'm that ***** trying to holla cause I want some bread
I could care less how she perform when she in the bed
***** hit that track, catch a date, and come and pay the kid
Look baby this is simple, you can't see
You ****ing with me, you ****ing with a P-I-M-P

[Chorus]

I'm bout my money you see, girl you can holla at me
If you ****ing with me, I'm a P-I-M-P
Not what you see on TV, no Cadillac, no greasy
Head full of hair, ***** I'm a P-I-M-P
Come get money with me, if you curious to see
How it feels to be with a P-I-M-P
Roll in the Benz with me, you could watch TV
From the backseat of my V, I'm a P-I-M-P
Girl we could pop some champagne and we could have a ball
We could toast to the good life, girl we could have it all
We could really splurge girl, and tear up the mall
If ever you needed someone, I'm the one you should call
I'll be there to pick you up, if ever you should fall
If you got problems, I can solve'em, they big or they small
That other ***** you be with ain't bout ****
I'm your friend, your father, and confidant, *****!

[Chorus]

I told you fools before, I stay with the tools
I keep a Benz, some rims, and some jewels
I holla at a hoe til I got a ***** confused
She got on Payless, me I got on gator shoes
I'm shopping for chinchillas, in the summer they cheaper
Man this hoe you can have her, when I'm done I ain't gon keep her
Man, *****es come and go, every ***** pimpin know
You saying it's secret, but you ain't gotta keep it on the low
***** choose with me, I'll have you stripping in the street
Put my other hoes down, you get your *** beat
Now Nik my bottom *****, she always come up with my bread
The last ***** she was with put stitches in her head
Get your hoe out of pocket, I'll put a charge on a *****
Cause I need 4 TVs and AMGs for the six
Hoe make a pimp rich, I ain't paying *****
Catch a date, suck a ****, ****, trick!

[Chorus]

Yeah, in Hollywoood they say there's no business like show business
In the hood they say, there's no business like hoe business ya know
They say I talk a lil' fast, but if you listen a lil faster
I ain't got to slow down for you to catch up, *****!

Like My Style

length: 3:14
producer: Rockwilder
vocal: 50 Cent
mixer: Pat Viala
recording engineer: Sha Money XL
guest: Tony Yayo
writer: Tony Yayo, Rockwilder, 50 Cent
I know you like my style
You like how I break it down
I know you like style
You like how I break it down
I know you like my style
You like how I break it down
Wanna get rich I'll show you how
Wanna get rich I'll show you how

On ya mark, get set, let's go, switch the flow
Teach ya how to turn Yayo into dough
The original don dada, nobody bomb harder
Ya heard what I said boy, I'm hot, I'm hot
The hoodrats they say "He so crazy"
The snitches they say "He tried to spray me"
That's what you get for trying to play me
The aftermath and my wrath is so shady
No matter how you try you can't stop it
I catch ya stunting in the Bentley Coupé cockpit
If you a pimp why ya hoes stay outta pocket?
Front and find out how my P-40 Glock hit
"50 you need some help?"
Chill, Yayo I got this
Where I'm from the D's tryin' to knock us
They swear to God that it's me selling the choppers
Man, I ain't give them little *****s no product

I know you like my style
But how much do you like my style?
You like how I break it down
Wanna get rich I'll show you how

I know you like my style
But how much do you like my style?
You like how I break it down
Wanna get rich I'll show you how

The birds they say I got a way with words
I be like "baby girl, I like them curves"
If ya not busy tonight then we can swerve
I'mma bachelor, baby, **** what you heard

From the tellie in ten minutes I'll make you a believer
Tongue touch ya, I'll have ya shakin' like you havin' a seizure
I make hits about what I do in my leisure
G-Unit gang, can't another clique out there see us
*****s lip sync the lyrics cause they wanna be us
Groupie hoes from the hood they be trying to G us
Trying to holla at the kid every time they see us
Girlfriend quit pretending, I'm the ***** ya love
And I ain't got to say nothing, you know that I'm thugging
Put my hands on that *** and ya say that I'm bugging
We family, baby, kissing cousins
Now look what the riff raff done drug in
For the cheese my degrees is hotter then ya oven
I'mma New Yorker, but I sound Southern
And we sip DP 'till the Don stop bubblin'
After we play, ok, go to ya husband

I know you like my style
But how much do you like my style?
You like how I break it down
Wanna get rich I'll show you how

I know you like my style
But how much do you like my style?
You like how I break it down
Wanna get rich I'll show you how

Em said you gone like my style
Dre said you gone like my style
I said you gone like my style
You gone like how I break it down

You're not really, really ready
The drama will have ya *** in trauma, boy
You're not really, really ready
My knife flip open and then I gets to poking
You're not really, really ready
Them shells start popping and bodies get to dropping
You're not really, really ready
You think ya ready, ya not
Really really ready

Poor Lil Rich

length: 3:20
producer: Sha Money XL
vocal: 50 Cent
mixer: Steve King and Eminem
recording engineer: Carlisle Young
additional producer: Eminem
additional keyboard: Luis Resto
writer: Sha Money XL, 50 Cent
I let my watch talk for me, my whip talk for me
My gat talk for me, BOW! What up homie
My watch saying hi shorty we can be friends
My whip saying quit playing ***** get in
My earring saying we can hit the mall together
Shorty its only right that we ball together
I'm into bigger things y'all *****s y'all know my style
Ya wrist bling bling, my **** bling blow
My pinky ring talk it say fifty I'm sick
That's why these *****s is on my ****
Some hate me, some love my hits
Flex my man he gon bump my ****
See I'm alive man I really don't care
I tell them hoes whatever they want to hear
You try and play me I'ma blaze it in
My chromes cost more than the crib ya momma raised ya in

I was a poor *****
Now I'm a rich *****
Getting paper now you can't tell me **** *****
You can find me in the fo' dot six *****
In the backseat fondling ya ***** *****

I was a poor *****
Now I'm a rich *****
Getting paper now you can't tell me **** *****
You can find me in the fo' dot six *****
In the backseat fondling ya ***** *****

New York *****s, cocky *****z like it's all good
**** around we crip-walking in the wrong hood
I'm fresh up out the slammer, I ain't no ****ing bama
I'm from the wild whody, but I know country grammar
See me I get it crunk, *****s go head and front
I go up out the trunk, come back, roll out I'm done (yeah)
My money come in lumps, my pockets got the mumps
You see me sitting on dubs, that's why you mad chump
Don't make me hit ya up, 50 cent will split ya up
I lay you down, them carnids will come and get ya up
See 50 play fa keeps, and 50 stay wit heat
I can't go commercial, they love me in the street
I'm real bloody man, the hood love me man
Don't make me show up in ya crib like bro-man
Locked up in a pen, I still do my thing
See-O screaming shut the **** up in the pen

I was a poor *****
Now I'm a rich *****
Getting paper now you can't tell me **** *****
You can find me in the fo' dot six *****
In the backseat fondling ya ***** *****

I was a poor *****
Now I'm a rich *****
Getting paper now you can't tell me **** *****
You can find me in the fo' dot six *****
In the backseat fondling ya ***** *****

I'm in the Benz on Monday, the BM on Tuesday
Range on Wednesday, Thursday I'm in the hooptay
Porsche on Friday, I do things my way
Vipe or Vette, I tear up the highway
Shorty she can tell ya about my **** game
But she don't know me, she only know my nickname
Left the hood and came back, damn **** changed
These young boys, they done got they own work man

I was a poor *****
Now I'm a rich *****
Getting paper now you can't tell me **** *****
You can find me in the fo' dot six *****
In the backseat fondling ya ***** *****

I was a poor *****
Now I'm a rich *****
Getting paper now you can't tell me **** *****
You can find me in the fo' dot six *****
In the backseat fondling ya ***** *****

21 Questions

length: 3:45
producer: Dirty Swift
vocal: 50 Cent
mixer: Dr. Dre
recording engineer: Mauricio “Veto” Iragorri and Sha Money XL
guest: Nate Dogg
editor: Carlisle Young
assistant engineer: Ruben Rivera
writer: Dirty Swift, Jimmie Cameron, Vella Cameron, 50 Cent
New York City!
You are now rapping, with 50 Cent
You gotta love it,
I just wanna chill and twist a lot
Catch suns in my 7-45
You drive me crazy shorty I
Need to see you and feel you next to me
I provide everything you need and I
Like your smile I don't wanna see you cry
Got some questions that I got to ask and I
Hope you can come up with the answers babe

[Chorus]
Girl, It's easy to love me now
Would you love me if I was down and out?
Would you still have love for me?
Girl, It's easy to love me now
Would you love me if I was down and out?
Would you still have love for me girl?

If I fell off tomorrow would you still love me?
If I didn't smell so good would you still hug me?
If I got locked up and sentenced to a quarter century,
Could I count on you to be there to support me mentally?
If I went back to a hoopty from a Benz, would you poof and disappear like
Some of my friends?
If I was hit and I was hurt would you be by my side?
If it was time to put in work would you be down to ride?
I'd get out and peel a ***** cap and chill and drive
I'm asking questions to find out how you feel inside
If I ain't rap 'cause I flipped burgers at Burger King
Would you be ashamed to tell your friends you feelin' me?
In the bed if I used my tongue would you like that?
If I wrote you a love letter would you write back?
Now we can have a lil' drink you know a nightcap
And we could go do what you like, I know you like that

[Chorus]

Now would you leave me if you're father found out I was thuggin'?
Do you believe me when I tell you, you the one I'm loving?
Are you mad 'cause I'm asking you 21 questions?
Are you my soul mate? 'Cause if so, girl you a blessing
Do you trust me enough, to tell me your dreams?
I'm staring at ya' trying to figure how you got in them jeans
If I was down would you say things to make me smile?
I treat you how you want to be treated just teach me how
If I was with some other chick and someone happened to see?
And when you asked me about it I said it wasn't me
Would you believe me? Or up and leave me?
How deep is our bond if that's all it takes for you to be gone?
We only humans girl we make mistakes, to make it up I do whatever it take
I love you like a fat kid love cake
You know my style I say anything to make you smile

[Chorus]

Could you love me in a Bentley?
Could you love me on a bus?
I'll ask 21 questions, and they all about us
Could you love me in a Bentley?
Could you love me on a bus?
I'll ask 21 questions, and they all about us

Don’t Push Me

length: 4:09
producer: Eminem and Steve King
vocal: 50 Cent
mixer: Steve King and Eminem
recording engineer: Mike Strange
guest: Eminem and Lloyd Banks
keyboard: Luis Resto
writer: Lloyd Banks, Luis Resto, Eminem, 50 Cent
I need you to pray for me and
I need you to care for me and
I need you to want me to win
I need to know where I'm heading cause I know where I've been
The flow is bone crushing, it's nothing, I come up with something
Come through your strip fronting, stunting
It's something you want, 745 chrome spinners
Haters hate that I'm winning
Man, I've been hot from the beginning
************s envy the kid, control your jealousy
Cause I can't control my temper, I'm finna catch a felony
Pistol in hand, homie, I'm down to get it popping
Once I squeeze the first shot you know I ain't stopping
'Till my clip is empty, I'm simply
Not that ***** you should try your luck with or **** with
Hollow-tip shells struck you with your bones broken, guns smoking, still locing
What *****, lay your *** down, paramedics get you up feeling

Right now I'm on the edge so don't push me
I aim straight for your head so don't push me
Fill your *** up with lead,so don't push me
I got something for your ***, keep thinking I'm *****

Right now I'm on the edge so don't push me
I aim straight for your head so don't push me
Fill your *** up with lead,so don't push me
I got something for your ***, keep thinking I'm *****

I done lost my bigger ***** and I didn't cry
To young to understand the consequences of a man
Living a lie, I gotta get that money
I'll be damned if I'm bummy
Gotta watch my back around these *****s cause they funny
20 years of watching my mama's tears got my heated, heavily weeded
Smoking that bong cause I need it
These *****s don't want me balling, they want me buried
Bogged in the dirt from shots flurried
Laying with bugs under my shirt
I got plans to hop up in that Hummer
Cause I'm a stunner, I sit back and wonder
When them angels gonna call my number under
My chest is a heart of a lion
I ain't lying, bounty hunters got me flying
With my iron, high as a giant
I'm running from nothing, my stomach is touching what I'm clutching
To give you more than a concussion, end of discussion
My blood is colder so I'm bolder
Hennessy and soda, hood on my shoulder
Look in the mirror, I see a soldier

Right now I'm on the edge so don't push me
I aim straight for your head so don't push me
Fill your *** up with lead,so don't push me
I got something for your ***, keep thinking I'm *****

Right now I'm on the edge so don't push me
I aim straight for your head so don't push me
Fill your *** up with lead,so don't push me
I got something for your ***, keep thinking I'm *****

These are my ideas, this is my sweat and tears
This is **** that I saw with my eyeballs, my ears
This is me, who's gotta be what you see on TV
What you hear on CD, what appears easy
Man these teenie boppers see me on these magazine covers
In these beanies and these rags living fantasies
Fronting like it's all fun and games 'til the shoot 'em up bang
And you see your brains hang and you see we ain't playing
Ain't saying we ain't laying down at night and ain't praying
I bullied my way in this game, man, I'm done playing
Man, I'm done saying that I'm done playing
I'mma start laying into these **********ing **********s
There's no way I'm back down like a god damn coward
I can't, how would I look as a man bowing to his knees?
Like the mad cow disease, let somebody lash out at me
And not lash back out at 'em, please
Oh, whoa, yo, ho, hold up, oh no, not me, not Marshall
You wanna see Marshall? I'll show you Marshall
I try to show you art, but you just pick it apart
So I see I have to start, showing you ****ing old farts
A whole other side I wanted to not show you
So you know you're not dealing with some ****ing marshmallow
Little soft yellow, punk *****, whose heart's Jello cause

Right now I'm on the edge so don't push me
I aim straight for your head so don't push me
Fill your *** up with lead,so don't push me
I got something for your ***, keep thinking I'm *****

Right now I'm on the edge so don't push me
I aim straight for your head so don't push me
Fill your *** up with lead,so don't push me
I got something for your ***, keep thinking I'm *****

Shady Aftermath, *****, G-Unit
Rap juggernauts of this ****, we taking over

Gotta Make It to Heaven

length: 4:01
producer: Megahertz
vocal: 50 Cent
mixer: Pat Viala
recording engineer: Sha Money XL
writer: Megahertz, 50 Cent
[Chorus]
I gotta make it to heaven, for going through hell
Gotta make it to heaven, gotta make it to heaven
I gotta make it to heaven, for going through hell
Gotta make it to heaven I hope I make it to heaven

[50 Cent]
Some say I'm paranoid I say I'm careful how I choose my friends
Been to ICU once I ain't going again
First Zee got murked, then Raw got murked
An homies still in the hood, why he ain't getting hurt
I smell somethin' fishy man it might be a rat
Damn *****s switching sides on *****s just like that
You know me, I stay wit a ***** on her knees
An get guns away in the hood like government cheese
Spray on Suzuki's eleven hundred cc's
More plate on the back, straight squeezing a Mak
In the hood they identify *****s by they cars
So I switch up whips to stay off the radar
I ain't gotta be around to make **** hot
I send Yayo to dump 30 shots on ya block
So spray that Tec ***** if I say get it done
An make it wet *****s if you round me son

[Chorus: x2]

[50 Cent]
When I come through the hood, I don't stop the rapping *****z
Get close enough to smack, get it clapping *****
Pac tried to front so I waved the chrome on his ***
Point blank range I span put a bone on his ***
Two weeks later *****s came through with Maks to lay me down
Then sprayed I played dead and got the **** off the ground
Out the blue I get a phone call, 50 what up?
You send a ***** at me I send the ***** back cut up
I don't play that ***** ****, I done told you boy
Front on me, you gon meet one of my soldiers boy
Cause Entwain shot up his mamma crib an now he in Jail
Trippin on Fliks an bogger trail, ***** in black tail
Pack mamma moved, but she don't talk to him no more
The shells from twains 4-4, blew the hinge off her do'
Without that Tec every month how she gon pay for the crib
Man social service finis' come and take them kids

[Chorus: x2]

[50 Cent]
Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change, the courage
To change the things I can, but wisdom to know the difference
But A, Ade did a make you say that I say that
That's the credit put in your head when you a case act
Man I might talk to you while we up in the Penz
But when we come home, that don't mean we goin' **** an be friends
Shells smash ya head close enough to hear 'em whistling
Thank god they missed you, an go grab ya pistol
In the hood *****s running round acting crazy
Buying little air Jordan's for maybe babies
See it might be his, an it might be yours
Cause them broads in the projects is straight up whores
Man it don't take much for you to get in them draws
You ain't can have 'em on they back or on all fours
You got to tell me, you feeling this ****
Because I hear what I'm saying I know I'm killing this ****

[Chorus: x2]

Wanksta

length: 3:39
producer: Sha Money XL and John “J‐Praize” Freeman
vocal: 50 Cent
mixer: Dr. Dre
writer: John “J‐Praize” Freeman, Sha Money XL, 50 Cent
Yea, It's 50, A.K.A. Ferrari, F-50, break it down.
I got a lot of living, to do before I die,
And I ain't got time to waste. Let's make it.

You say you a gangsta, but you never pop nothing,
We say you a wanksta, then you need to stop fronting.

You ain't a friend of mine,(yea) you ain't no kin to mine,(c'mon)
What makes you think that I won't run up on you wit the nine, (uh huh)
We do this all the time (what), right now we on the grind (yea)
So hurry up and cop and go resell it nicks and dimes, (uh huh)
Shortie, she so fine, I gotta make her mine,
A *** like that, gotta be one of a kind,(Whoo)
I crush em every time, punch em wit every line,
I'm ****ing with they mind, I make em press rewind,
They know they can't shine, If I'm around to rhyme,
Been on parole since ninety four, cause I commit the crime,
I say them my line, I did it three to nine,
The D's ran up in my crib, you know who drop the dime.

[Chorus]
You say you a gangsta, but you never pop nothing,
You say you a wanksta, then you need to stop fronting,
You go to the dealership, but you don't never cop nothing,
You been hustling a long time, but you ain't got nothing.
You say you a gangsta, but you never pop nothing,
You say you a wanksta, then you need to stop fronting,
You go to the dealership, but you never cop nothing,
You been hustling long time, but you ain't got nothing.

Damn homie,
In high school you was the man homie,
What the **** happened to you, I got the sickest vendetta, when it come to the chedda,(uh huh)
*****, you play with my paper, you gon meet my baretta,
Now shortie think I'm a sweat her,(uh huh) I'm sippin on Amaretto, (yea)
I'm out here doin stilleta, I know I could do betta,
She look good, but I know she after my chedda,
She tryin to get in my pockets, homie, and I ain't gon let her,
Be easy, start some bullshit, you get your whole crew wet,
We in the club doin the same ol two step,
Gorilla unit 'cause, they say we bugged out,
Cause we don't go nowhere without toast be thugged out.

[Chorus]

Me, I'm no mobster, me, I'm no gangsta,
Me, I'm no hit man, (yea) me, I'm just me,
Me, I'm not wanksta, me, I'm no actor,
But it's me you see, on your TV, cause I hustle babe,
This rap **** is so easy, I'm getting what you get for a brick, to talk greasy,
By any means, partner, I got to eat on these streets,
When you play me close, fa' sure, I'ma pop my heat,
*****s say they goin' murder 50, how
We riding round wit guns the size, of Lil' Bow Wow,
What you know about AK's and are-15's,
Equipped wit night vision, shell catchers and empties, huh.

[Chorus]

Damn homie!

U Not Like Me

length: 4:16
producer: Red Spyda
mixer: Eminem and Steve King
recording engineer: Sha Money XL
lead vocals & other vocals: 50 Cent
writer: Red Spyda, 50 Cent
NYPD, LAPD, NYPD (When it's on, that's who you get, huh?)
NYPD, LAPD, NYPD (That's your **********ing click, huh?)
NYPD, LAPD, NYPD (You a **********ing snitch, huh?)
NYPD, LAPD, NYPD

*****z want to shine like me (me), rhyme like me (me)
Then walk around with a nine like me (me)
They don't want to do it, three to nine like me
And they ain't strong enough to take nine like me
Hey yo, you think about shittin' on 50, save it
My songs belong in the Bible with King David
I teach *****s sign language, that ain't def son
You heard that? That mean rin!
Ask around, I ain't the one you want to stun on, pa
Pull through, I'll throw a ****ing cocktail at ya' car
From the last shootout, I got a dimple on my face
It's nothin', I could go after Mase's fan base
Shell hit my jaw, I ain't wait for doctor to get it out
Hit my wisdom tooth, spit it out
I don't smile a lot, cause ain't nothin' pretty
Got a purple heart for war, and I ain't never left the City
Hos be like "Fiddy, you so witty"
On the **** like they heard I ghostwrite for P. Diddy
You got fat while we starve, it's my turn
I done felt how the shells burn, I still won't learn
Won't learn

[Chorus: x2]
If you get shot and run to the cop, you not like me
You ain't got no work on the block, you not like me
It's hot, you ain't got no drop, you not like me
Like me duke, you not like me

Mama said,
Everything that happened to us, was part of God's plan
So at night when I talk him, I got my gun in my hand
Don't think I'm crazy, cause I don't fear man
Cause I feel when I kill a man, God won't understand
I got a head full of evil thoughts, am I Satan
I been could of killed these *****s, I'm still waiting
In the telly with to whores, a Benz with to doors
32 carrots in the traws, no flaws
You see me in the hood, I got at least two guns
I carry the glock, Tony carry my M-1s
Hold me down *****, OGs tryin' to rock me
D's waiting for my response to lock me
This is my hustle, ***** don't knock me
You need some **** with banana clips to try and stop me
I'm the one

[Chorus: x2]

See, I done been to the Pearly Gates, they sent me back
The good die young, I ain't eligible for that
I shot *****s, I been shot, sold crack in the street
My attitude is gangsta, so I stand some beef
You want to get acquainted with me, you want to know me
From three point range, with a glock, I shoot better then Kobe
See a ***** standin' next to me, he probably my Co-D
See a ***** getting in my whip, she probably gon' blow me
See the flow is like a .38, it's special yo
A country boy tell ya, I'm fittin' to blow
I'm more like a pimp, then a trick, you know
See, I'm in this for the paper, I don't love the hos
*****s broke in the hood, worried about mines
Grown *** men, wearing starter piece shines
You know them little pieces, with the little stones
Got little clientele fiends call your cell phones
When the gossip starts, I'm always the topic
You too old for that **** dog, why don't you stop it
Shorty, I been watching you watching me
Now tell me what you like more, my watch or me

[Chorus:x2]

Life’s on the Line

length: 3:39
producer: Terence Dudley
mixer: Rich Travali, Terence Dudley and Commissioner Gordon
recording engineer: Ted Wohlsen and Commissioner Gordon
lead vocals & other vocals: 50 Cent
writer: Terence Dudley, 50 Cent
Nobody likes me
Nobody likes me, but that's okay
Cause I don't like y'all anyway
And I don't like y'all anyway
**** all y'all!!
My watch talk for me, my whip talk for me
My gat talk for me
What up homie
For *****es who don't know me
They want to blow me 'cause the **** I floss wit sayin a lot for me

I came into rap humble, I don't give a **** now
Serve anybody like *****s who hustle uptown
Coke price go up, cats is come down
The D's run in my crib, I'm nowhere to be found
The ***** who hustle for me, they don't even stash tracks
They keep it on em, right there in they *** crack
When I don't like a *****, I don't pretend to
I'll have the paramedics wrap your ****ing head like a Hindu
Look, I ain't going nowhere, so get used to me
OG's look at me and see what they used to be
I'm that ***** that sold coke, the ***** that sold dope
The ***** that shot Dice when he broke to So So
The thug, they pop ****
The thug that pop clips
The thug that went from three and a half to whole bricks
***** ain't in his right mind, going against me
My picture's painted through words that make a blind man see

[Chorus]
Scream murder! (I don't believe you!)
Murder! (**** around and leave you!)
Murder! (I don't believe you!)
Murder, murder! (Your life's on the line!)

Y'all *****s don't want no parts of me
I'm trying to figure out how y'all started me
Make me catch her on the late night
Pop shots wit the fifth and slide off wit the six

I'm not a marksmen while spark issue, I spray random
Not a pretty ***** but my moms think I'm handsome
I hate to hear "He say, She say" ****
Unless he say she say she on my ****
It's no coincidence, *****s who **** wit me get shot up
I do a Cali style drive by and tear ya block up
You soft through, be putting up a crazy front
I stay wit the Mac, 'cause *****s tried to blaze me once
In the hood they be like, "Damn, 50 really spitted on em"
"You heard that ****?" "Yeah, 50 really shitted on em"
Beef, you don't want none, so don't start none
You just a small player in this game, play a part son

[Chorus]

These cats always escape reality when they rhyme
That's why they write about bricks and only dealt wit dimes
Leave it to them, and they say they got a fast car
Nascar, truck wit a crash bar
And TV's in the dash, pa
See em in the five wit stock rims, I just laugh, pa
I catch stunts when I ain't trying
I ain't lying, I sit Don P til I split up
Keep my rent split up
Get outta line, I get you hit up
Now if you say my name in your rhyme, watch what you say
You get carried away, you can get shot and carried away
Now here's a list of MC's that can kill you in eight bars:
50, Jay-Z and Nas
I'ma say this **** 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 *****, one

[Chorus]

Y'all *****s don't want no parts of me
I'm trying to figure out how y'all started me
You goin' make me catch her on the late night
Pop shots wit the fifth and slide off wit the six