R.I.P. Gangstanem
2002-2007
To get down to this business, let's get these nicks and dimes
So hurry up and cop, G-Unit shit before it's gone
Its like a gold mine for my man to take nine
And bounce right back, he gotta be like Michael Myers
I ain't no gangsta, I ain't gotta start fronting
I just call Banks up when I need to pop something
But you gon' feel my shit, you gonna hit the stop button
We fuck you up a long time, you gon' get stomped stunting
You hate it G-Unit made it and Obie's coming
D-Tweezy's coming you're sick to your stomach
50 percent of it's 50 cent
The other 50 percent of it's who's color of skin it is
But if you even considerin' taking our label down
You better find our building and fly a fucking plane into it
Speak up your mumbling, what the
Fuck-a yousa bibi-bay okay big-bi-bi-baby
This is Shady I know you was
Bi-bi-hoping we be-be-would ge-go away
But weeble mable weeble wobble
Isn't it Albanian, Armenian, Iranian, Tasmanian no
His name's Raymond and oh, oh sorry yo so sorry wow
But that was a long time ago when I was just joe shmoe
Rappin in joe blows basement I apologized for it befo, so
Shit, not no more; we done scared 'em off, there are no more
Victims to seek; I'm fixin' to pick some and start shit
I'm out of pictures to rip and shit to throw darts at
Ain't got no more targets, shit, Irv and Jeff
We done beat 'em to death, Benzino went deaf
There seems to just be no one left to bully; Bush is pussy
Why the fuck you think his name's Bush? Puss is bushy!
Who tryin' to be the first one to catch this blade in the throat!
You know the po-po don't let me hold them toasters no mo'
I just cut three people, you gon' be number four
If you don't back the fuck up, and get the fuck up off the flo'
My crew is takin over as soon as we hit the do'
You hit the door then we comin' in and you goin' home
Security that can't even stop us because they know
Runyan Avenue soldiers hold it down wherever we go
Suckin on our 40's and holdin up .44's
We come with toasters like we just opened saving's and loans
And we don't need your brew tonight homie we brought our own
So grab whatever you sippin on and let's get it on!!!!
I'm trying to pull the trigger but it's stuck, fuck
My shit is all jammed up, ugh
Come on, you cock-sucking, good-for-nothing
Motherfucking piece of shit shoot, ah
Yeah! What up, bitch!? Say that shit again
Shot the bullet missed, hit a brick, bounced of it
Ricocheted back in his shin
Went through his bitch on his way back, hit his friend
Payback homie, don't play that shit is spin
To be on I told you to leave this shit alone
Or... (I'M GONNA GET MY GUN!)
Yall better leave dat boy alone
Cause if they don't, yall know he gon' come back on 'em
And they don't want him to come back strong
I wouldn't dare get that boy going
I said leave dat boy alone
Cause yall don't know him
That there boy he out cold
And that there boy he been known
To stir some shit up when he in that zone
So much there ain't nothing that we love more than "Pulling Your Skirts Up"
And exposing you hoes so much, people are starting to wonder
What's up with them fucking Wonder Woman underoos
Do unto others of you will have done unto you
So who the fuck you motherfuckers gonna run to
When someone runs up with a mask and puts a gun to you?
You gon' ask yourself, how come your mans
Didn't enter that last round that he had in Curtis Jackson's ass while he had the chance?
Doe rae me, fa-so-la-ti-da
Don't blame me cause you washed up lost your spot
Mama-say-mama-sa-ma-macosa
Ja quit playin', knock it off, you're not 2Pac
Don't hate me, I'm too hot and you're not
Shooting at me, with the only shot you got
Ja quit playin' knock it off you're not 2Pac
You'll get popped poppin' all that shit you pop
Fuckin' punk-pussy bitch
I'll fuck you up boy
Never
Don't you never in your motherfuckin' life
I'll choke the shit out of you little motherfuckin' midget
I pray for the day
That someone who spits with the caliber
That Nas and Jay does
Opens up his jaw to say somethin'
Or rattle my name off
Or rattle the first thing
From the top of his brain off
So I can blow the fucking dust off of this chainsaw
And give him the surgery that he came for
'Til I pull the paint off
I never been shot
But I think me and Fifty must of been cut
From the same cloth
Cos I’ve always came off like Ja's chain
When they try to rush him and lost
And came back
And gave him a watch in exchange for it
But this shit is no gimmicks, this is blood in and blood out
When there's beef, you just gotta know when to butt in and butt out
If there's a problem, we solve it, if we don't resolve it
It usually just evolves into one big brawl and we all get involved in it
We should all get a merit, this much beef we inherit
And wear it like a badge with honor, pass it around and share it
And let it go to whoever's holding the most current beef on their shoulders
Drop them zeros and get with these heroes
Do you want losers or winners, this music is in us, and it's
Not over till we say it's finished and G-Unit spinners
Will keep spinnin', this is Hip Hop when it's in it's
Truest form, the greatest, Hate us or love us
Make voodoo dolls of us and keep sticking them pins in us
Thick as his skin is or as short as his wick is
The trick is to be able to walk big as his dick is
And as sick as his music is, or was, still is
Whatever, forever, he will be the illest
To ever sh-shock the world, what to do next
He's already reconciled with his {ex}, a chainsaw and an axe
So who am I gonna call on when I ain't got them boys with me
And the situation gets a little sticky
I'ma dial 911 like a motherfuckin' punk, fuck that, bla bla
I'mma call that rude boy from Detroit, Trick Trick
Quick come pick me up, bring them guns
Come to the club, meet me out front
There's some chump up in this bitch
Poppin' some junk cause he's drunk
And we may have to fuck his ass up
Cause uh, somethin' smells a lil' fishy
And I don't like the way his boys keep lookin' at me
So homie come get me
Maybe I just feel like there's too many pussies in rap
Shady (Ca$his) we gotta push 'em to the back
Move 'em along, push 'em aside, don't get me wrong
I love the finger snaps and the claps into the song
It's got a catch but come on man, the raps
We all gotta step our game up; especially these lame fucks
Who walk around with their chest out
Just tryin to be down with anybody who's left now
Better be down with them, huh
But I dare some bitch to say somethin about, Eminem
Cause I'm not in the mood to be playin around with dudes
I already seen two friends get shot in the head
And lay on the ground this year and, one didn't make it
Proof, you are the truth
Please don't let us come face to face with these boo-boo-hoo
Fake-ass tattooed havin
Fif' please tell 'em right now how hard it has been
For me to try and, stay out it
But they just won't quit runnin their mouth
At least 'til there's a gun in it; son of a bitch!
We all got shooters, yeah these days who doesn't?
And as far as the snaps and claps, I wasn't
Dissin the South, that isn't what this is about
I just so sick of the beef, I don't even wanna see anymore
