187 Yayo

[Intro: 50 Cent] G-G-G-G-G-G-Unit 50 Cent, nigga (Uh-huh), Tony Yayo (Yeah) Whoo Kid (Is this what you want?) [Chorus: Tony Yayo] Yeah, and you don't stop I do a one-eight-seven on your motherfuckin' block Yeah, and it don't quit It's G-Unit in your motherfuckin' ass, bitch Yeah, and it don't stop I do a one-eight-seven on your motherfuckin' block Yeah, and it don't quit It's G-Unit in your motherfuckin' ass, bitch (Non-stop) [Verse: Tony Yayo] They say good things should happen to those who wait But I'm stuck in the game, still slingin' weight You know that eggshell white, that tan and the brown For a XL6 or a seven four pound Suede seats is hot, but Italian leather is better And with cameras in the mirror, nigga, the cars costs cheddar I'm on first class flights with flyin' cooks 'Cause my verse sound nice when they fly in hooks Now I'm blowing weed, oh, in Beverly Hills With some bad freak hoes in the Montreal Next year it's the new Hummer, stash box with the llama I drive through in the blue gator bomber Heaven or Hell'll prevail when I'm a goner 'Cause I eat up tracks like Hannibal and Dahmer I'm the first one out and last one on the corner 'Cause life is a hustle, any day you be a goner P89 Ruger with the silencer Let off a clip it sound like spitballs goin' through straws We got plenty of ratchets but not on sale We even got Dillingers that hold shotgun shells These rappers is talkin' 'bout bricks in they rhymes You never did shit but some Mickey Mouse crimes I do not respect it, my work is never watered down So on the first I get mo' checks than NikeTown Slingin' thirty-one bunnies, I been on the block Since niggas did The Snake, Running Man and The Wop When I was fifteen, I ain't want no workin' papers I played the strip all night, servin' niggas Listen, nigga, we live like Italians in jail I got COs bringin' cell phones to my cell Get rich in the game, niggas out to get you Fill your ass up with lead, turn yo' ass to a pencil I jump out with the Ruger rapid-fire I had you on the run like Omar on The Wire I'm the only rapper you know that stay on the run I'm the only rapper you know that stay with a gun I'm a hustler OGs love to hate 'Cause I got old school money put away in a safe You can catch me in the hood where that dope and coke at Or catch me in Cali in a Hollywood throwback I'm a bail jumper, you know, a fishscale pumper Fuck Judge Wong, he won't catch me on the corner Nigga. pay more tax, homie, you owe me You wanna rap, we can battle for your see-through Rollie I be in Em mansion strippin' them models His bathroom's so far you gotta piss in a bottle There's too many indians and not enough chiefs Why you buy all the guns if you ain't got enough beef? The shit I spit'll 'cause a all-out riot And my new four-fifth'll 'cause a hollow tip diet I'm the type to tie up your lady, then gun butt your baby I'm like the mob, nigga, fuck you, pay me I'ma hide my assets and disappear Make a quick twenty mill' and vanish in thin air I've finished my work, now it's time to cop And meet that Chinese lady at the baggage spot I need twelve twelves and fifty-eight fifty-eights 'Cause I got eight sales and they all gon' wait, motherfucker [Chorus: Tony Yayo] Yeah, and you don't stop I do a one-eight-seven on your motherfuckin' block Yeah, and it don't quit It's G-Unit in your motherfuckin' ass, bitch Yeah, and it don't stop I do a one-eight-seven on your motherfuckin' block Yeah, and it don't quit It's G-Unit in your motherfuckin' ass, bitch, yeah [Outro] Haha, Whoo Kid