Yeah, ooh You n****s know what time it is? It's time for that gangsta s*** We ain't got s*** to live for You either headed for the pen Or you're on your way to Gilmore In the middle of the real war 'Cause a five dollar bill is the s*** n****s kill for I make a million out, yeah I don't care about a muthaf***a out there My heart cold and my wrist rock And I f*** around and die over Hip Hop I treat a dollar like a mill, countin' every bill 'Cause if I don't watch mine another muthaf***a will I went double but I still tuck the s**** I'm the truth, why the f*** you think 50 cut the deal Rollin' in a bag of * when you cut the seal When I bling the paint job on a Coupe De Ville I ain't never had a pop, poppa never had a son Nobody to go get, so I ain't never run They chat behind my back but they quiet when I come They treat a lil' n**** like a giant with a gun I walk with a swagger like I always had money 'Cause I know, they rather see my black a** bummy Ain't nuthin' funny just a whole lotta anger Mind of a leader, drama of a gang banger If a n**** come on property I ain't gonna call There'll be a splatter on ya shirt and it ain't paint ball We ain't got s*** to live for You either headed for the pen Or you're on your way to Gilmore In the middle of the real war 'Cause a five dollar bill is the s*** n****s kill for I make a million out, yeah I don't care about a muthaf***a out there My heart cold and my wrist rock And I f*** around and die over Hip Hop I don't follow no rules I'm gettin' in here with the t*** And if I don't, we gonn' burn this muthaf***a down I'm comin' through swingin' like they do in H-Town And I roll down the window and spin ya b**** face around I'm a stunna, hoggin' up the lane like the Hummer Till the wheel run dry like the rain in the summer Even the broke n**** can't afford to go to sleep F*** around and get ya head p****** all over the street And I ain't got nuthin' for 'em but the heat My lil' brother want jewelry and Jordan's on his feet Now, they recognize if ya slaughterin' the beat And if it wasn't for rappin', I'd have ya daughter on the street I been the same since Kane and Slick Rick had it Now n****s die in the car, my whole whip had it I worked too hard to let a n**** have it So I pack the A******** for the sideline static, yeah We ain't got s*** to live for You either headed for the pen Or you're on your way to Gilmore In the middle of the real war 'Cause a five dollar bill is the s*** n****s kill for I make a million out, yeah I don't care about a muthaf***a out there My heart cold and my wrist rock And I f*** around and die over Hip Hop © YWI PUBLISHING INC; UNIVERSAL MUSIC CORP.; EMI BLACKWOOD MUSIC INC.; 50 CENT MUSIC; JANICE COMBS PUBLISHING INC; Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com