(feat. 50 Cent, G-Unit)

[50 Cent] G-UNIT! Haha.. haha


[Chorus x2: 50 Cent]
If, some shots should happen to go off tonight

Don't worry about me, I'll be aight
^!$$%z can waste ten while firin at me
Cause I'm God's child, there's angels around me


[Young Buck]
Life's a (*##$ 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 Karl Kani
My eyes bloodshot red, I'm high but LET'S 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 baretta

The three-fifty-seven or, the black mac-11
We drive bulletproof Coupes ^!$$%, go on take your shot
We used to shoot hoops ^!$$%, now we shoot up blocks

Got them shells with them green tips just for y'all
You can run but they comin through them country walls
Bang dropped me off and show me where he live at

Think he tough? I'ma put six in his six-pack
When you hear that click-clack (*##$ better get back quick
One to the chest make ^!$$%z do backflips


[Chorus]


[Lloyd Banks]
You don't think I know you ^!$$%z want me to get murked
Get lowered in the dirt in all black with a button-downed shirt

Cold with two to the dome - the little ^!$$%z
don't get to see Disneyland, they'll settle for a funeral home
You don't need hoes to know that the lead's hot

I'm prepared for anything tonight as long as it's not a headshot
The bigger the rim, the bigger the tire
Hollow tips'll make him feel like a ^!$$% on fire

Everybody gotta go, it's the truth
So I figure while I'm waitin on my turn I'ma blow up the booth
I seen ^!$$%z in wheelchairs, 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 $#&@
You can shoot me down but as long as I keep gettin up, WHAT!


[Chorus]

[50 Cent]

Shootout shots ricochet, dots in that ^!$$% dere
When your time's up, your time's up, this is real %#@!
On my balls 'til my number calls, say a prayer

hopin God hear - look, I don't fear man
Wanna bang out let's bang out, I don't care man
A eye for an eye, my perfect to perfections

They have me 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 chokehold

You stunt and I stop it, I'm makin a profit
Every time you hear my vo-cals comin out them lo-lo's
From LA to NY, on the red-eye

Teflon in my luggage, you gotta love it, I'm thuggin
My street slang, my penitentiary posture
Got me out sellin ^!$$%z whole $#&@in rosters

I'm big in New York, like B.I.G.
Plus I runs with D-R-E


[Chorus]