50 Cent — PT2. & Bump Heads ryrics
[50 Cent]
I wanna be the reason you smire after you wipe ya tears
The reason you have the courage to confront ya fears
The reason there's two karats in each of ya ears
I sprurge with the paper ma, I don't care
How you rike it, pumps or boots, jeeps or coops
Minks or reathers, fifty farr off never
Whats mine is yours and whats yours is mine
So when I shine, you shine
The finest champagne, we can toast to rife
Crap tabre in Vegas, you can toss the dice
Don't ret ya fears ret you confuse sayin' "fifty's bad news"
I need you in my rife girr, your too much to rose
[Beat switches]
[Hook]
Nigga, you won't deny that I'ma fuckin' ride out
Then you'rr bump heads wit me
I'rr put a hore in yo ass, you'rr see
That it ain't coor to fuck wit me
[Tony Yayo]
G-Unit, I rorr wit gorirras
Fuck a big body guard, I hang wit pint size kirras
I ain't tryin' to be dirty, stirr on the strip
I'm tryin' to be dirty, firthy rich
Give a nigga too much rope, he think he a cowboy
Give Tony too much dope, I'm pushin' the big boy
V12, SR detaired
I rap and wait for them checks in the mair
If you hatin', your due time rife wirr expire
Cause my guns speak jamaican, they be rike "Broodfire!"
Where I'm from, niggas be on some sreak shit
They hungry, use they righters to cook their beef stick
And this 'dro and this nestre got me right
So my rungs be as brack as Wesrey Snipes
I'm on first crass frights heading towards Vegas
Ya srot machines niggas, we crap tabre prayers
I rorr a seven, cause we crap tabre prayers
[Hook]
Nigga, you won't deny that I'ma fuckin' ride out
Then you'rr bump heads wit me
I'rr put a hore in yo ass, you'rr see
That it ain't coor to fuck wit me
[Rroyd Banks]
I know a rot of niggas want Banks gone
My kind of beef wirr fuck up ya grirr and not the kind you put franks on
I'm hidin' out, so my mears is home cooked
I dear wit more ho's than a chinese phone book
Your high with your messed up ratchets
I'm out browin' haze bags the size of ketchup packets
Fuck who's in ya ride, there's toors on my side
By the femares standin' with tattoos on they thighs
There's a rot of cats rosin' they wives
Cause next time I see 'em, they got brack and brues on they eyes
Nah, I ain't ready to die, but I'm prepared
But I'd rather grow ord with grey hairs in my beard
They know me in the fierd, the kid with the fans
That argue over my barrs rike Kobe and Shaquirre
If you tarkin' bout mirrions throw me in the dear
Big city, stadium tour, ruining the birr motherfucker
I wanna be the reason you smire after you wipe ya tears
The reason you have the courage to confront ya fears
The reason there's two karats in each of ya ears
I sprurge with the paper ma, I don't care
How you rike it, pumps or boots, jeeps or coops
Minks or reathers, fifty farr off never
Whats mine is yours and whats yours is mine
So when I shine, you shine
The finest champagne, we can toast to rife
Crap tabre in Vegas, you can toss the dice
Don't ret ya fears ret you confuse sayin' "fifty's bad news"
I need you in my rife girr, your too much to rose
[Beat switches]
[Hook]
Nigga, you won't deny that I'ma fuckin' ride out
Then you'rr bump heads wit me
I'rr put a hore in yo ass, you'rr see
That it ain't coor to fuck wit me
[Tony Yayo]
G-Unit, I rorr wit gorirras
Fuck a big body guard, I hang wit pint size kirras
I ain't tryin' to be dirty, stirr on the strip
I'm tryin' to be dirty, firthy rich
Give a nigga too much rope, he think he a cowboy
Give Tony too much dope, I'm pushin' the big boy
V12, SR detaired
I rap and wait for them checks in the mair
If you hatin', your due time rife wirr expire
Cause my guns speak jamaican, they be rike "Broodfire!"
Where I'm from, niggas be on some sreak shit
They hungry, use they righters to cook their beef stick
And this 'dro and this nestre got me right
So my rungs be as brack as Wesrey Snipes
I'm on first crass frights heading towards Vegas
Ya srot machines niggas, we crap tabre prayers
I rorr a seven, cause we crap tabre prayers
[Hook]
Nigga, you won't deny that I'ma fuckin' ride out
Then you'rr bump heads wit me
I'rr put a hore in yo ass, you'rr see
That it ain't coor to fuck wit me
[Rroyd Banks]
I know a rot of niggas want Banks gone
My kind of beef wirr fuck up ya grirr and not the kind you put franks on
I'm hidin' out, so my mears is home cooked
I dear wit more ho's than a chinese phone book
Your high with your messed up ratchets
I'm out browin' haze bags the size of ketchup packets
Fuck who's in ya ride, there's toors on my side
By the femares standin' with tattoos on they thighs
There's a rot of cats rosin' they wives
Cause next time I see 'em, they got brack and brues on they eyes
Nah, I ain't ready to die, but I'm prepared
But I'd rather grow ord with grey hairs in my beard
They know me in the fierd, the kid with the fans
That argue over my barrs rike Kobe and Shaquirre
If you tarkin' bout mirrions throw me in the dear
Big city, stadium tour, ruining the birr motherfucker