[Intro]
Yeah, I like the way this feel
This make me wanna just...
G,g,g,g,g G Unit
Buck somethin (G Unit!)
[Chorus]
Nigga you shit on me, I shit on you
You put a hit on me, I put a hit on you
A eye for a eye nigga
Survive the shots or die nigga
[Bridge 1]
They can't hold me, I'm Lloyd Banks the one and only
Not your buddy, not your pal, not your homie
Their Ain't a goverment around that can control me, Oh no
[Lloyd Banks]
I'm on the doggystyle shit, but I don't love a hoe
Papa wasn't around so I had to let my brotha know
Never stay in center, play the back and let your money grow
Most them niggas wouldn't be around if you was dummy yo
Southside Jamaica neighborhood that's where I come from
If you see a nigga with me then theres more than one gun
Fire straight soldier, Aint ya tired of being the dumb one
Or you satisfyed being another niggas dun dun
We all know friendships turn sour when you gettin it
Some niggas hate me in the hood but I don't know them nigga shits
An' I don't know em up in my face like I don't know them niggas sick
But I could care less, Im on the island and I'm gettin ??
[Chorus]
[Young Buck]
Walkin and talkin, spit it how I live it nigga
Came from the country, dirty south did it nigga
Feds try and question me, they run up in my hotel
They said there was a shootin but they found no shells
New york city here, they throwin niggas into jails
I got love for them, and I ain't even from there
Now bust a shot for them boys on the block
I can feel ya pain nigga, I'm still in the game nigga
Their's somethin bout the sound of a trey pound
That make me pull up, hop out and make a nigga lay down
See every time we round, we here some shots go off
Niggas get they chains snatched when they try and show off
Shootouts in broad day we do it the mob way
Come to find out, these niggas softer than Sade
I'ma keep livin my life with a pistol in my palm
And a wrist full of ice, you can call me the don
[Bridge 2]
You have to find me
So make one more move and you're dying
Undercover cop, look it ain't a crime
Cuz my niggas aint gon stop ridin
Till you gone
[Chorus]
[50 Cent]
I got a handgun habit, nigga front I let ya have it
When shots go off, cops sayin fifty back at it
I'm alergic to the feathers on these bird ass niggas
Front and I'll put ya brains on that curb fast nigga
I ain't a marksman, I'm sparkin I spray shit
Enough rounds for that HK I don't play bitch
I move like a militant, back on that guerilla shit
Moody disrespect for I'm ruley, but niggas cant move me
I squeeze till I run out of ammo, if it's a problem it's handled
I have people pullin out liqoeur and lightin candles
You fuck around I blow your brains on my new york times
Run home, turn onto the sports section and read your mind
It's crystal clear you should fear when that gat bust
First it's crime scene tape and you end up in that black hurst
We don't go to funerals, but we'll go to your ???
Your Body all banged up, ????
[Chorus 2x]
Get This Ringtone
 
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