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Tekst :

[Chorus]

[50 Cent]
I ll teach you how to stunt
My wrists stay rocked up
My TV s pop up in a Maybach benz
I ll teach you how to stunt
Nigga you can t see me
My bently GT got smoke-gray tints
I ll teach you how to stunt
My neck stay blinging, my rims stay gleaming, I m shining man
I ll teach you how to stunt
I see you scheming, nigga keep on dreaming, I hurt ya mans
I ll teach you how to stunt

[50 Cent]
Seven series BM, Six series benz
Twenty-four inches, Giovanni rims
R1 one wheel when I m on one of them
Ma, that boy out there actin a fool that s him
They say I ve changed man, I m getting paper, I m flashy
They like me better when I m fucked up and ashy
My royalty check s the rebirth of Liberace
Stunt so hard, everybody got to watch me
And I don t really care if it s platinum or white gold
As long as the VS bling, look at that light show
In the hood they say Fifty man your sneaker look white yo
Just can t believe Reebok did a deal with a psycho
Banks is a sure thing, yall niggaz might blow
I m fittin to drop that, so I suggest you lay low
Buc, he from Cashville, Tenneckee nigga
Getting them ten of keys, save ten for me nigga

[Chorus]

[Lloyd Banks]
I m sensing a lot of tension now that I m rappin
But the kids used to look up to you, what happened?
Me on the contrary, hand covered with platinum
Different color coupes but I m in love with the black one
On point, cuz you get R.I.P. s when slacking
So the stashbox big enough to squeeze the mack in
Yeah, I m fairly new but I demand some respect
Cuz I already wear your advance on my neck
I m fresh off the jet, then I breeze to the beaches
Blue yankee fitted, G-Unit sneakers
I already figured out what to do with all my features
Decorate the basement, full of street sweepers
When it comes to stuntin theres nothing you can teach us
We re in a different time zone, your records don t reach us
Naww, I ain t here to save the world, just roll up a blunt
Come with me out front, I LL TEACH YOU HOW TO STUNT

[Chorus]

[Young Buc]
Chain so icy, you don t have to like me
In a throwback jersey, with the throwback nikes
I know you probably seen me with Cash Money from back in the days
The only thing changed is the numbers on the range
I bought me an old school and blew out the brains
The Roc the Mic tour, I threw off my chain
My sprewell s spinning man, I m doing my thing
And whodi now in trouble now that you in the game
Come on now, we all know gold is getting old
The ice in my teeth keep the crystal cold
G-Unit homie, actin like yall don t know
Look, I can t even walk through the mall no more
I just pull up, get out, and get all the hoes
They never seen doors lift up on a car before
Don t be mad at me dog, that s all I know
That s how to show these fougaisies how it s supposed to go

[Chorus]

Tekst :

[50 Cent:]
G Unit ha ha

[Chorus: 50 Cent]
Some shots ll happen to go off tonight
Don t worry about me I ll be alright
Niggas can waste ammo firin at me
Cause i m god s child theres angels around me

Some shots ll happen to go off tonight
Don t worry about me I ll be alright
Niggas can waste ammo firin at me
Cause i m god s child theres angels around me

[Verse 1: Young Buck]
Life begins and then you die this couldn t be worse
I either don t eat this week or snatch this purse
Clip hangin out the side of my parka now
My eyes blood shot red, i m high but lets ride
I ain t scared if I die it was meant to be
He might send for you before he send for me
Gun butt you with the back of the Berretta
The three fifty seven
Or the black Mac-11
We drive bulletproof coupes nigga go on and take your shot
We used to shoot hoops nigga, now we shoot up blocks
Got them shells with them green tips just for ya ll
You can run but they comin through them concrete walls
Banks drop me off and show me where he live at
Think he tough, i m a put six in his six pack
When you hear that click clack bitch, better get back quick
One to the chest make niggas do back flips

[Chorus: 50 Cent]
Some shots ll happen to go off tonight
Don t worry about me I ll be alright
Niggas can waste ammo firin at me
Cause i m god s child theres angels around me

Some shots ll happen to go off tonight
Don t worry about me I ll be alright
Niggas can waste ammo firin at me
Cause i m god s child theres angels around me

[Verse 2: Lloyd Banks]
You don t think I know you niggas want me to get murked?
Down, lowered in the dirt
And all black with a buttoned down shirt
Co-recieving the dome
But little niggas don t get to see Disney Land and settle for a funeral home
You don t need holes to know that the leads hot
I m prepared for anything tonight as long as its not a head shot
The bigger the rim the bigger the tire
Hollow tips ll make you feel like the nigga on fire
Everybody got to go its the truth
So I figure while i m waitin on my turn i m a blow up the booth
I ve seen niggas in wheel chairs, eye patches and crutches
Arm slings, that came home to haze and dutches
We can go there but need I shoot
Put some holes in your Fila suit
You probably hurl when you see my coupe
I play the hood all the time cause I don t give a fuck
You can shoot me now but as long as I keep gettin up what?

[Chorus: 50 Cent]
Some shots ll happen to go off tonight
Don t worry about me I ll be alright
Niggas can waste ammo firin at me
Cause i m god s child theres angels around me

Some shots ll happen to go off tonight
Don t worry about me I ll be alright
Niggas can waste ammo firin at me
Cause i m god s child theres angels around me

[Verse 3: 50 Cent]
Shootout shots richochet
Doc say that nigga dead
When your times up your times up this is real shit
I m a ball
Till my number called
Say a praire
Hopin god hear
Look I don t fear a man
Want to bang out, lets bang out I don t care man
An eye for an eye, i m perfect to perfection
I ll be sprayin automatics in every direction
Call me Louie Loco, nut case oh no
I m more like the kid that put the game in a choke hold
You re stuntin I stop it
I m makin a profit
Everytime you hear my vocals
Comin out them low lows
From L.A. to NY
On the Red Eye
Teflon in my luggage
You got to love it
I m thuggin my street slang, my penitentiary procher
Got me outsellin niggas whole fuckin roster
I m big in New York like B.I.G.
Plus I run with D-R-E-

[Chorus: 50 Cent]
Some shots ll happen to go off tonight
Don t worry about me I ll be alright
Niggas can waste ammo firin at me
Cause i m god s child theres angels around me

Some shots ll happen to go off tonight
Don t worry about me I ll be alright
Niggas can waste ammo firin at me
Cause i m god s child theres angels around me

Tekst :

It s the Unit

You gotta know how we do it

I Put the seat back when we rolling,
I Let the system thump when we coasting
I had the tre pound with me cock
Run up on Omega Shot
In the street like a dog

Niggas say they know me
I don t know them
They say we came up together
I don t owe them
A motherfucker ding
I ll Make you hot
Run up on Omega Shot
In the street like a dog

A nigga try smoke me,
I m gone smoke him
When I say I m all in
I mean I m all in
Nigger you blink shell cases just fall in
You fucking with the police?
Well you better call him
Cause I m a reload my shit
And come right back
You know different day
Same shift with the same strap
Me I gotta get it
I gotta get my bread
I pin a bitch a freak,
Huh, She got to give me head
I got a reputation,
I stay with the burner
I call it putting work in
The D s call it murder
So half and half with my cold D
We only got one pill,
It s one pistol, one target, one shot, one kill

I Put the seat back when we rolling,
I Let the system thump when we coasting
I had the tre pound with me cock
Run up on Omega Shot
In the street like a dog

Niggas say they know me
I don t know them
They say we came up together
I don t owe them
A motherfucker ding
I ll Make you hot
Run up on Omega Shot
In the street like a dog

I m a beast, balls, gangster, goon
Grab my knife, my gun, my vest
It s on,
Lay a nigger on his lawn,
Versace style,
Got my 44 alone in my Versace now
Hold my foot kilos
Switch cars trying to b-low
I touch more DR
Then got a line away
I shooting windows, doors and parked cars
80 grand on your head, OH GOD,
Tripod in the arnarge
It s so hard
I can charge it on the gold card or black card
I m a be in Italy when they pop your noodles
Nigga 7 star shit eating lots of stroodles

I Put the seat back when we rolling,
I Let the system thump when we coasting
I had the tre pound with me cock
Run up on Omega Shot
In the street like a dog

Niggas say they know me
I don t know them
They say we came up together
I don t owe them
A motherfucker ding
I ll Make you hot (nothing)
Run up on Omega Shot
In the street like a dog (yeeeah)

Hopping out of something foreign,
Bumping oreen
I m B, I m not the one for sparing
I ll gun your car your in
Watch the game at the garden
Next to Martin
Here to spite me barking, he s sleep walking
I m hollow tilting, Champagne bottles open
Chronic smoking,
Even the models groping
My pockets pocking,
The games sick, I m the potion,
I be proofing,
And I flow like the ocean,
Machines make movies,
You can be the poster,
Your Over,
I ll tell the media your mediocre,
I push your big body,
Your riding in the mini-vans,
I fuck like will
And smoke like the Indians.

I Put the seat back when we rolling,
I Let the system thump when we coasting
I had the tre pound with me cock
Run up on Omega Shot
In the street like a dog

Niggas say they know me
I don t know them
They say we came up together
I don t owe them
A motherfucker ding
I ll Make you hot
Run up on Omega Shot
In the street like a dog

It s not my fault
It can t be my fault
That you speak to me the way you do
Now I m split in two
I m half me and half you
But I hate us both, don t you?

No of course you don t of course you don t
You say life...

If I had to lose a mind, if I had to touch feelings
I would lose my soul, the way I do
I don t have to think, I only have to do it
The results are always perfect
But that s old news
Would you like to hear my voice
Sprinkled with emotion, invented at...

Ooh ooh baby
Immature`s back, back, back
Ooh ooh baby baby, ooh ooh baby
Romeo, L.D.B., Bat (Bat, Bat)
You wanna get with me tonigh
Ooh

Baby, tryin` me, givin` me... all your love
I will never do you wrong
Baby,...

Experience babe, kickin stones and cans
Experience babe, cigarette-stained hands
It s not too late, hear it in the wind
It s not too late, feel passion creepin in
Intoxication, familiar smells of the hotels
Infatuation, of knowing who you are

Glimpse to genocide

Blindness leading.
Which one me is real?
Through corridors of uncertainty- a force without form.
I ve dug a hole so deep.
full of the shit of compromise.
For one I can t keep
pain on the outside.
Adapt.
Take on release....