Move on over, I done told ya boyyyy
I’m a G-Unit motherfuckin soldier boyyyy
And when you gon’ get it in your brain
The gate’s wide open and the dog’s off the chain
Now Let Me Give You Just A Little Peak Inside
Of The Mind,now everyday of the week i’m destined
for crime,hearin the little voices speaken out at me
blind,ya know, the little saying be «your Sick But
Your Fine»but mabye i have a little chemechal imbalance,
but i can balance the barrell enough to make you
come out of your apparel,make you sing a little carol,
handsin the air,like your at a concert and i’ll rob ya
like i just don’t care,now your jewels are my jewels
and my tools got pools,your draws got stools, break
yourself fool,what could you do to this maniac and
lunatic that already hasn’t been done,go ahead and
shoot him, put him in prison he’s just a superstition,
make a decicion,cause if i ever get out of this hole its
perfection,never will change, sick in the brain,spit on
your brain,shit on your name,give me the blame,i’m a psycho
I’m the illest rapper to hold the cordless, patrollin corners
Looking for hookers to punch in the mouth with a roll of
Quarters I’m meaner in action than Roscoe beatin James
Todd Sr.across the back with vacuum cleaner attachments
I grew up in a wild hood, as a hazardous youth with a fucked
up childhood, that I used as an excuse And ain’t shit changed,
I kept the same mindstate since the third time that I failed
9th grade You probably think that I’m a negative person,
don’t be so sure of itI don’t promote violence, I just encourage it
I laugh at the sight of death as I fall down a cement flight of
steps and land inside a bed of spider webs So throw caution
to the wind you and a friend can jump off of a bridge and if
you live, do it again Shit, why not, blow your brain out, I’m
blowin mine out Fuck it, you only live once, you might as well die now!
You don’t live that, you shouldn’t say that
Cause what come out your mouth’ll get you SHOT, DOWN
Throwin your money around and we don’t play that
Get in our line’ll get you SHOT, DOWN (nigga)
We know where you hang, we know where you stay at
That bullshit you on’ll get you SHOT, DOWN
Here’s a few clips that you shouldn’t play with
G-Unit, Ruff Ryders’ll get you SHOT, DOWN
Aiyyo, fuck y’all niggaz talkin bout, think you playin wit?
Double R, G-UNIT, the same ol’ shit (WHAT!)
Put the faggots in the ring, watch ’em all quit
All y’all niggaz is pussy, suck my dick!
Ain’t nuttin but a handful of man still standin
I remember 50 in a cypher when Onyx was «Slammin» (AIGHT?)
Now we meet again, it’s all good my nigga
Back to the street again, it’s all hood my nigga
Knock on wood my nigga, we both walk the dog
We ain’t get to where we at by luck, shit was hard (AIGHT?)
But once we got through the trials it’s all smiles
’til a big type nigga all of a sudden get wild
Now why you gotsta go and take me back to where I came from?
I’ma make you remember, where you know my name from (YEA!)
45th Street, and BLAOW-BLAOW Ave.
I done ran through your crew and only let off half, nigga!
If your head ain’t offa your shoulders (uh-huh)
You ain’t get shot, you got nicked nigga (just nicked)
Cause if my chrome hit a piece of your bone
It’s gon’ do more than chip, nigga (a lot more than that)
Yea, what the fuck is the problem
The Porsche is red the buckets is Army
30 shot handguns the gutter is starvin (yea)
Niggaz like me might rush your apartment (word)
Bloodstains’ll fuck up your carpet, brain on the window
I smell murder every time that the wind blow
Tie him to the chair and then knock out his chinbone
I don’t want the throne or the crown, I ain’t sellin up
You can have the jail or the ground, you ain’t in hell enough
I’m the one that flood the gutters
Better tap your man, and let him know P’ll love to cut his
And niggaz is gettin shot down, two guns up
Double R, S.P. holdin D Block down
You don’t live that, you shouldn’t say that
Cause what come out your mouth’ll get you SHOT, DOWN
Throwin your money around and we don’t play that
Get in our line’ll get you SHOT, DOWN (nigga)
We know where you hang, we know where you stay at
That bullshit you on’ll get you SHOT, DOWN
Here’s a few clips that you shouldn’t play with
G-Unit, Ruff Ryders’ll get you SHOT, DOWN