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50 Cent

Tony Yayo Explosion – 50 Cent


[50 Cent]
Yeah, F-50

[Chorus – 50 Cent]
As times go by, I twist a lot
Fuck with me and my niggas, somebody gonna die
You think I’m all poinry, cause you see me gettin’ high
But my knife, I’ll have yo ass seein’ out one eye

As times go by, I twist a lot
Fuck with me and my niggas, somebody gonna die
You think I’m all poinry, cause you see me gettin’ high (yeah)
But my knife, I’ll have yo ass seein’ out one eye

[Verse 1 – Tony Yayo]
740 I, with the brand new shake (uh huh)
Got me pissin’ on hoes like the R. Kelly tape
If you see me in the club, nothin’ but Cris poppin’ (yeah)
See me in court, my lawyers plea bargainin’ (woo)
Tryin’ to turn a 3 to 6, to a 2 to 4 (uh huh)
Or 1 to 3, for an extra G
RIP to Etho, I miss Hevo
When I die, I hope heaven look like the ghetto (yeah)
Picture me trick, and take a loss
I’m cheap like the Chinese man with duck sauce
This Tony homey, I walk around with a big chrome
9 L’s will hit ya passenger, hit ya driver
G-Unit, you don’t know a fuckin’ clique liver
(You heard my nigga, you don’t know a fuckin’ clique liver)

[Chorus]
As times go by, I twist a lot
Fuck with me and my niggas, somebody gonna die (yeah)
You think I’m all poinry, cause you see me gettin’ high (uh huh)
But my knife, I’ll have yo ass seein’ out one eye (eye)

As times go by, I twist a lot
Fuck with me and my niggas, somebody gonna die
You think I’m all poinry, cause you see me gettin’ high
But my knife, I’ll have yo ass seein’ out one eye

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[Verse 2 – Tony Yayo]
I never mix money and product with my friends (uh huh)
These chips, make relationships come to an end (what)
I pull the graveyard shift, gettin’ money non-stop (uh huh)
And been on the block, ever since bunny tops (c’mon)
250 grizzies, scrape the plate (scrape that plate)
Got me on 750’s straight from the plate (straight from the plate)
You can call on your soldiers, call your recruits (uh huh)
I do you dirty like Raheem did Dirty is “Juice” (Juice)
Allow myself, to introduce myself
This is Tony, the talk of New York, I’m holdin’ the belt
I got thug in my blood (blood), game like a pimp (pimp)
And wrote my first verse, takin’ baths in the sink (yeah)
And yo I fear no man son, I never heard of a fair one
Never gotta borrow a handgun
Niggas on the street, gettin’ smoked like bran son
So I stay dirty like “Sanford and Son” (yeah)
Groupies gossipin’ stay runnin’ their lips (woo)
Cause they seen the Gucci seats in the 6 (uh huh)
And seen the Fendi grips on the four fifth (what)
Shit, I sell bricks, shit, I sell shit on a stick (stick)
Enough of the talkin’, let’s take it to the valance (uh huh)
The New York streets, will leave you physically challenged (challenged)
Don’t be surprised, If I spit at you
Then come to your wake, and serve fiends at your funeral
Our bread is goin’ towards a brick of dope
Cause I’ve been goin’ hand and hand since “Different Strokes”
I’m a 50, an eighth, you a half a blunt
You the nigga in the mirror that practice stunts
WHAT!

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50 Cent

Back Seat Tony Yayo – 50 Cent


[50 Cent]
Now play my Tony Yayo shit

Yeah, 50 Cent
G-Unit
Remix
Tony Yayo
We gonna do it again

[Hook: repeat 2X]
Back seat of the Caddy truck or Tahoe
Back seat of the Benz truck or Expo
Back seat of X5 or Range Rov’
So when I pick you up, you know how this shit go – hoe

[Tony Yayo]
Hey yo, my truck talk for me
If I was bummy and ugly
Your bitch’ll still have love for me
As long as I push a truck, rims chunky
Never open my lips, your bitch wanna fuck me
Beep the air horn, hop in turn the heat on
Pick you up off the streets get your feet warm
She giving sex cause the Lex truck takes unleaded
Big thick thighs, eyes browner than Sahara deserts
Deuce-Deuce, bitches, yeah they caught your eye
And them loud system full of bass and highs
You see that X5 BM
Packed with Puerto Ricans
Bad mommies on the low, just creepin
Niggas be frontin like they bubbling coke
But they really struggling with a high car note, ha … (YEAH)

[50 Cent]
Might see me in the Jeep
Rollin’ ’round 4 deep
And you know we on the creep
Nigga, I’m holdin’ it

[Hook]

[Tony Yayo]
Back seat of my truck lets swing an episode
Fuck a hotel we have sex on the road
I pull the seats back
Put the sheets in the luggage rack
Pull out my balls
And play an Aaron Hall track
I tell a chick “Bend over, mami”
Hit ’em with the Henny Dick
Now my windows foggy
Its time to party, I got TV’s, CD’s and DVD’s
Now bitch, get on your knees
You could be a model chick or a silly hood rat
Don’t cum on my leather, don’t stain my floor mats
Where’s your baby mama?
She in the truck and I’m blessin her
Undressing her
Make hop out for air re-freshener
I ain’t stressing her
‘Cause my rims keep checkin her
She’s 21, my rim size older than her
TWENTY TWO’S

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[50 Cent]
Niggas say they want beef
But when they see me in the street
They don’t slow down to speak
‘Cause they know I’m holdin ..

[Hook]

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50 Cent

Smoke (Feat. Trey Songz) – 50 Cent

Lirik lagu: Smoke (Feat. Trey Songz)

[Intro: Trey Songz]
Somebody pull the fire alarm, girl, where you from?
Cause you got this club on fire and outside I bet all they smell is smoke
(All they smell is smoke)
The way your body roll I’ma lose control
Cause you got this club on fire and outside I bet all they smell is smoke
(All they smell is smoke)

[Verse 1: 50 Cent]
Pink diamonds, pink sand, beaches Aruba
Blue sapphires on days when she feeling Hoover
She hood and in the mood when I’m in the mood
Erotic, so exotic, I’m psychotic about it
I don’t want forever, I just wanna taste her love sample
That product, I bet a nigga tongue go numb
She’s a narcotic, that bomb shit burning, we smoking
My old flame, my Mary Jane, we got a love thing
She ain’t jealous, I keep Nina around
In the small of my back in case some shit go down
Right under my Hermes, I’m hearing the word is
Me, I’m a P.I.M.P
I let Trey hit some, then Dre hit some
Then pass it to the homies ’til we all get done
Niggas can’t comprehend what this shit ’bout
Police coming, you like, put this shit out

[Hook: Trey Songz (+ 50 Cent)]
You like smoke and you got me high
(You make a nigga want to get down)
High
(High feeling like I’m up in a cloud)
Girl what the fuck you done to me
You got me feeling like you just rolled up for me
You’re like smoke
And you got me high
(So high make your love come down)
High
(One time, have that ?)
Girl what the fuck you done to me
You got me feeling like you just rolled up for me
You’re like smoke

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[Verse 2: 50 Cent]
Shawty hot, she full blown, she hot now
100 degrees, that’s with or without the top down
But when she get to working her hips you know the temperature rise
Oh lord, soon as she see the dick in her thighs
She like the stones in my cross, she flawless
I’m thinking damn, why would God give one woman all this?
You know I got the kind of conversation that make her feel like she need me
It’s complicated, my occupation pimping ain’t easy
Facts, I stack racks on racks and racks
Back when I was pumping crack, now my cards are black
Nigga get on my level, bark with the big dogs
If I want it I buy it, I don’t care what this shit costs
Luther said it: A house is not a home without her
I had them panties on the grey hound filled up with powder
But what she showed what she’ll do for me has no limits
Her wanting is temporary [?] gon’ get it

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Trey Songz]
Everybody showing the love when she at the door
Turn this bitch down, that’s fire in the hole
I’m trying to get it and hit it, I don’t wanna pass that
Got me addicted, I’m tripping, where the stash at?
Baby, baby, don’t you know?
Baby, baby, you’re just like smoke

[Hook]

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50 Cent

High All The Time – 50 Cent

[Chorus]
I don’t need Dom Perignon, I don’t need Cris
Tanqueray and Alize, I don’t need shit
Nigga I’m high all the time, I smoke that good shit
I stay high all the time, man I’m on some hood shit

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

[Verse 1]
Everytime I ROLL up, niggas holla ROLL up, and I tell’em HOLD up,
You ain’t gettin money you ain’t smoking
In my Benzo, 20 inch Lorenzos, smoking on indo
Hiiigh as a motherfucker
I be on them backstreets, niggas know I clap heat, only if you got beef
Man you better holla at me
Niggas get locked up, stabbed up, shot up
Everytime 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 bitch 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]

[Verse 2]
Now if you heard I done started some shit
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

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I get high as I wanna nigga
Go against me, fa sho, you’s a goner nigga
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 nigga, you know how to holla “G-Unit!”
There’s no competition, it’s just me,
50 Cent, motherfucker, 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]

[Verse 3]
Now who you know besides me who write lines and squeeze nines
And have hoes in the hood sniffin 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, sippin Guinness, watching Menace
Then Oh Lord, have a young nigga bucking shit like he O-Dog
My team they depend on me when it’s crunch time
I eat a nigga food in broad day like it’s lunchtime
You feeling brave nigga, 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 shit you can tell me
Niggas calling me to feature, man fuck your money
I ain’t hurting, I’m doing good
I ain’t got to write rhymes, I got bricks in the hood

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[Chorus]

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

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