[Chorus]
I done told you boy I'm a soldier boy
I got no choice but to be a rider
I approach you boy with the toaster boy
Get to point blank range and fire
I ain't tryin' to hear shit I'm supposed to be rich
Motherfucker get in the way of my bread
Then I'm goin' load my shit then cock my shit
Nigga trip I'll come for yo head

[50 Cent]
I'll have your nigga in an ambulance tellin' ya hold on
The choir in your funeral singin' you so long
The top shotta that rock product the block gotta
Then pop hollows then pop bottles the whole spot up
The mo' paper the mo' strength we goin' get it
The fo' fifth come with the amp we ain't missin'
I'm back on my bullshit a verse is a full clip
Catch you with your bitch throw a song to her dude this is

[Young Buck]
G-Unit, fuck your click
Like syphilis bitch you stuck with this
I'ma loyal nigga nigga, die behind mine
Even if 50 drop me I still wouldn't sign
You done lost yo' mind, bumped yo' head
Try to stop my shine but I got bread
And I ain't got time, to hear what they said
When I catch them cowards I'm a buss they head

[Chorus]

I'm comin' out of South-side, you know I'm raw
Big ass check, they show our score
Pull the dough out, and roll out, the Kreamizore
Fo' Fo' out, I know bout, the keys of war
I'm HOT- five hundred degrees or more
My do' block a M-16 or more
I'm in the store copin' shit you ain't seen before
Black card swipe, we galore

I said these niggas stop talkin' then start worryin'
The FEDS keep comin' the money we burryin'
I'm in a mean loft, I'm in the Cream Porsche
I let that thing off, then turn to T-Wolf
I drive a space ship, nigga 2008 shit
Hermaide kicks on I stay in some ape shit
Niggas on some ape shit, they all get hit
Got the Russian AK, Haitian flag on the clip

[Chorus]

Writer : THOMAS, RICARDO / UNKNOWN, WRITERS
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group