[50 Cent]
Yo, yo we can`t stay alive forever
So if s**t hit the fan then we might as well die together
I`m high as ever, more hoes and more cheddar
G-Unit move around wit them pounds and berreta`s
Yea fa**ot, if I want it I`m gon` have it
Regardless if it`s handed to me or I gotta grab it
Don`t make a ass outta yaself tryin to stop me
I`m c**ky, raps rocky, ni**a you sloppy
You know that I`m, 8 levels above you ni**a
I`ll club you ni**a, I never heard of you ni**a, its ugly ni**a
I`m the wrong one to provoke
You rattin on ni**as is only gon` leave you smoked
So the only thing left now is toast for these cowrads
I got no friends, f**k most of these cowards
They pop s**t `till we start approaching these cowards
While we lay around dollars, they lay around flowers

[Lloyd Banks]
I got a intergangstress who argue and steams wit reefer
And who flip when I call a bitch like she Queen Latifah
Not all the vehicle`s is long enough to stash the streetsweeper
This s**t can get uglier than the Master P sneaker
We slidin through the ruckus, wit prada on the chuckus
Soon as spring break ho`s home from college wanna f**k us
I ain`t here to drop knowledge on you suckas
I`ll sick rottweiler`s on you f**kas, cops followin to cuff us
Top dollars to discuss this, whole lotta zeros
When it comes to paper I blow a soul outta aero
I`ma break before I lay floor berry
Besides, every rapper ain`t a star, ni**a plad ain`t bulbary
You can`t tame Lloyd, smokin by the big screen
You changin the channel looks like I`m playin the game boy
I know the rocks botherin ya vision
But reach and I`ll put a dot on ya head like its part of yo religion
Why party wit a pigeon?
I`m blowin a 10 `cause Bush handin flyers for a party in a prison
I`m in the gucci vest wit the green and red straps
I`m the last rapper to scare ni**as since Craig Mack
Now every morning`s a fast start
And there aint problem gettin dressed `cause my closet got more aisles than pathmark
Run, move startin to raid
and leave wit 12 shells in ya mouth like a carton of eggs
I`m the young pimp pardon my age
I don`t got long hair but if I did she be partin my braids
We just find out what club they at
take `em wit us, and run a train on `em like a subway mat
yer advance is a grey acura
these record labels got most artists gettin f**ked like the gay rappa`
i go to college on a tour
I`m goin down in history ni**a, next to Wallace and Shakur
I keep ya ammo clean, tec`s polished in the drawer
Camera`s by the hamper that mine into the floor
by now, you probably heard of me
fresh outta surgery, flashy as a f**k, you gon` have to murder me
Burglary, were leavin wit cha nike`s burgandy, White T, burgandy
you match now, back down
ni**as love to hate you, but love you when you disappear
catch me on the boat wit weed smoke and fishing gear
heavy when I toke, C notes from different years
Besly in the robe, re-motes for liftin chairs
We ain`t rich, but we be glad to snatch ya
I send cars to your crib like I`m a cab dispatcha
you better off wit ya stupid guys, lookin for a coupe to drive
you ain`t gettin nuttin but ya french fries supersized
it`s a damn shame y`all still local
I`m in a million dollar studio layin my vocals
Ni**a

[50 Cent]
Still in the projects ni**a, you ain`t goin nowhere
you gon` f**kin be there for the rest of yo muthaf**kin life
and yo momma said, I`m supposed to tell you somethin.....
to encourage you, somethin positive
aight well I ain`t gon` lie to you muthaf**ka, he ain`t goin nowhere
get yaself a beer, get on the f**kin curb
f**kin dirtbag