A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

G-Unit lyrics : "I Don't Wanna Talk About It"

[50 Cent:]
I don't wan' talk about it (50)
Man I don't wanna talk about it (nah)

Man I don't wan' talk about it (yeah)
And I don't wanna talk about it (wooo-oooh!)

[Chorus: 50 Cent]
I make millions quick and I don't wan' talk about it
Nah I don't wanna talk about it

I shoot a ^!$$% kid and I don't wan' talk about it
Nah I don't wanna talk about it
I $#[email protected] the baddest (*##$es, I don't wan' talk about it

Nah I don't wanna talk about it
I'm still flippin chickens, I don't wan' talk about it
Nah I don't wanna talk about it

[50 Cent:]
These ^!$$%z police

Go 'head, ask me what I'm ridin in so I can say the Enzo
My (*##$ roll down the window so I could feel the wind blow
Got big enough for me to fiddle on my kinfolk

(*##$es with me cruisin, Moulin Rouge and
They $#[email protected] and they strippin ^!$$%, I ain't even trippin ^!$$%
Me I handle business; God's my only witness

Watchin homicide, sayin "Who the $#[email protected] did this? "
Me I run the street mayne, so I keep the heat mayne
Sews what you reap, when you $#[email protected] with the elite mayne

I don't $#[email protected] around boy; you better ask around boy
I hit you with the pound, leave yo' $$# on the ground
For, you poppin that bull%#@!, like I don't pull %#@!

Fully loaded clips and whips, get the grip, clip the bricks
^!$$% we hittin licks, stickin %#@!, gettin rich
That's why my name ring bells all around this (*##$

Any hood you go through they know 50 Cent (wooo-oooh!)
And I don't wanna talk about it (OHH!)


[Tony Yayo:]

Yeah, it's the kid ^!$$%, yeah
Aiyyo, big money, my car got the big face (yeah!)
Forty-five, my belt got the big eights

^!$$%z hate but I'm low seven star Caesar
For grimy ^!$$%z tryin to line me like [? ] preacher
You ^!$$%z got the nerve, I'm at Johannesburg

With Mandela nephew blowin heavy herb
Then back to the projects, low from the task force
The dope spot's sellin more %#@! than Scott Storch

I'm tired of these pricks, lyin 'bout bricks
Got my can and my white, my tan like Mariah and Nick
Fly in the '60 U.F.O.

Unidentified flyin object on twenty-fo's
More money more hoes, more money more clothes
Smoke that AK-48, not bull%#@! 'dro (yeah)

I rock big arenas, not bull%#@! shows
And my pants three thousand, these ain't bull%#@! clothes (OHH!)


[Lloyd Banks:]

Nah, uhh
B-A, N-K, S-5, 5-oh
Or 6-8, M-G, tinted with my eyes low

Homie I'm a Tahoe, fully loaded nine blow
You see out on hydro, Luciano blind hoe
Loiue V offended me, [? ] in my Bentley C

And weekends are the chills, I'm a $#[email protected] her 'til she empty
Empty on you if you front, 'til your passenger is stuck
Give your $$# a brand new scar, in need of a brand new car

I ain't them I'm different baby, I talk, you listen baby
Listen and I'll show you, how money controls you
I'll put you in my old school, and let you pop the switch

Pocketful in every packet, that's why I'm poppin %#@!
I don't forgive I don't forget, what you said, where you flip
When you get hit, I hope that's it, pop-pop, all on your whip

I-I, be on that %#@!, I'm high, I'm on that piff
Bye-bye, you $#[email protected] (*##$, you ain't hot, you ain't rich
You a snitch!


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