bitches Cause I'm down for my bitches Fuck them other bitches I bust rounds for my bitches Fuck them other bitches I'm gone clown for my bitches Fuck them other bitches
my fucking tooth In a fly murder four door of coof Yeah I get my paper yeah I get my bread I don't give a damn what you bitch niggas done said Talking
like my name was Osama Picture my Cheve riding low, boys watching me like the FEDs They'd rather see me dead, instead of watching me get my bread Some of my
(feat. Pimp C, Spice 1 & Vicious) [Pimp C:] Uh, the damn place made me crazy I don't care about nothing but my daddy my granny, my bitch and my babies
hatred I recieved motherfuckers that use to be down, ain't down no mo' my true partners just can't be found no mo' there fore my motto is 'Fuck Friends'-my
Ridgemont 4 is my block I put my trust in no man, only my motherfucking glock Cause she ain't never let me down, before Fuck a gang I follow my bitch,
Without a change in my schedule steady chasing my mail Until my life is at the finish with no more breath in my lungs I'ma put these bitch made niggas
afraid and I got buzzed Out of frustration came aggravation Depression coming down in my mind Kept a nigga confused and straight crying Dying, from sweet sticks in line Throwed off in my my
made myself Poverty raised me thinking ain't no help I pray for my health my mind and my family too State of myself my grind and my family crew Where
my foes My lyrics explode on contact, gamin you hoes Who else but Mama's only son, fuck the phony niggaz I'm the one Say my name, watch bitches come
My whole clique got dough, my Os on the fly hole, C4s, we fly on linz, And my rocks lookin like, flashlights yo' benz, [chorus - 50 Cent] When I'm down
Across the wall, the shit is hurtin my head Fed's talkin, they watchin me in the bed tearin my broad up "That dick is kinda small, my bitch is too much." C
on my finger and say goodbye to my kids Never ever will I be a legal citizen collectin' my dividends til the law ends, flossin Rollin in my Benz I
and my daddy died all of my niggaz came to the church And thanks for comin, I'm still stressed out over the death When I take my breath and puff my cigarette
the foster homes in dreams a teen And now my mama lets me down She wouldnt pick up the phone I'll make it all on my own But that's a whole other song
city, wit me pin me, Nigga, this the team, by the way, don't fuck with brains, Put in my mind all off on my murder, Murder y'all all, and I flees the
pretend Pick up my pen, in my hand One of my trusted friend friend, hey Open it let's see if we're real, we all suited Beg my pardon to Martin Baby we
