Showing posts with label gangster. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gangster. Show all posts

Monday, April 6, 2020

Ice-T - New Jack Hustler (video & lyrics)

Ice-T - New Jack Hustler

Hustler, word, I pull the trigger long,
Grit my teeth, spray till every nigga's gone.
Got my block sewn, armored dope spots,
Last thing I sweat's a sucka punk cop.
Move like a king when I roll, hops,
You try to flex, bang, another nigga drops.
You gotta deal with this cause there's no way out,
Why? Cash money ain't never gonna play out.
I got nothin to lose, much to gain,
In my brain, I got a capitalist migraine.
I gotta get paid tonight, you muthafuckin right.
[something] my grip, check my bitch, keep my game tight.
So many hos on my jock, think I'm a movie star.
Nineteen, I got a fifty thousand dollar car.
Go to school, I ain't goin for it,
Kiss my ass, bust the cap on the Moet.
Cause I don't want to hear that crap,
Why? I'd rather be a New Jack-----Hustler

H-you-S-T-L-E-are hustler

Yo man you know what I'm sayin?
You got it goin on my man, I like how it's goin down.
You got the fly cars, the girls, the jewels.
Look at that ring right there,
I know it's real, it's gotta be real.
Man, you the flyest nigga I seen in my life!
Yo man, I just want to roll with you man,
How can I be down?

What's up? You say you want to be down?
Ease back, or muthafucka get beat down.
Out my face, fool I'm the illest,
Bulletproof, I die harder than Bruce Willis.
Got my crew in effect, I bought em new Jags,
So much cash, gotta keep it in Hefty bags.
All I think about is keys and Gs
Imagine that, me workin at Mickey D's (ha ha ha ha).
That's a joke cause I'm never gonna be broke,
When I die there'll be bullets and gunsmoke.
Ya don't like my lifestyle? Fuck you!
I'm rollin with the New Jack crew.
And I'm a hustler.

H-you-S-T-L-E-are hustler
New Jack, New Jack..........

Here I come, so you better break North,
As I stride, my gold chains glide back and forth.
I care nothing bout you, and that's evident.
All I love's my dope and dead presidents.
Sound crazy? Well it isn't.
The ends justifies the means, that's the system.
I learned that in school then I dropped out,
Hit the streets, checked a grip, and now I got clout.
I had nothing, and I wanted it.
You had everything, and you flaunted it.
Turned the needy into the greedy,
With cocaine, my success came speedy.
Got me twisted, jammed into a paradox.
Every dollar I get, another brother drops.
Maybe that's the plan, and I don't understand,
God damn----you got me sinkin in quicksand.
But since I don't know, and I ain't never learned,
I gotta get paid, I got money to earn.
With my posse, out on the ave,
Bump my sounds, crack a forty and laugh.
Cool out and watch my new Benz gleam,
Is this a nightmare? Or the American dream?
So think twice if you're coming down my block,
You want to journey through hell? Well shit gets hot.
Pregnant teens, children's screams,
Life is weighed on the scales of a triple beam.
You don't come here much, and ya better not.
Wrong move (bang), ambulance cot.
I gotta get more money than you got,
So what, if some muthafucka gets shot?
That's how the game is played,
Another brother slayed, the wound is deep
BUT they're givin us a Band Aid.
My education's low but I got long dough,
Raised like a pit bull, my heart pumps nitro.
Sleep on silk, lie like a politician,
My Uzi's my best friend, cold as a mortician.
Lock me up, it's genocidal catastrophe,
There'll be another one after me!
A hustler.
H-you-S-T-L-E-are hustler.

New Jack, New Jack......

Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Tracy Lauren Marrow (Ice-T) / Alphonso Henderson
New Jack Hustler (Nino's Theme) lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc, Reach Music Publishing

Ice-T O.G. Original Gangster album cover.

OG Original Gangster T-shirt.
O.G. Original Gangster T-shirt and hat
available in Red or Blue if you know what I mean.

Ice-T - O.G. Original Gangster (video, lyrics & t-shirt)

O.G. Original Gangster

Ten years ago
I used to listen to rappers flow
Talkin' bout the way
They rocked the mic at the disco
I liked how that shit was goin' down
With my own sound
So I tried to write rhymes
Somethin' like them, my boys said,
"That ain't you Ice,

That shit sounds like them."
So I sat back, thought up a new track
Didn'T fantasize, kicked the pure
Facts. Motherfuckers got scared
Cause they weas unprepaired
who would tell it how it relly was?
Who dared?
A motherfucker from the West Coast
L.A. South Central fool
Where the Crips and the Bloods play
When I wrote about parties
It didn't fit
Six in the Mornin'
That was the real shit

O.G. Original Gangster

When I wrote about parties
Someone always died
When I tried to write happy
Yo I knew I lied, I lived a life of crime
Why play ya blind?
A simple look
and anyone with two cents
would know I'm
A hardcore player fromhe streets
Rappin' bout hardcore topics
Over hardcore drum beats
a little different
Than the average though
Jet you through the fast lane
Drop ya on death row
Cause anybody who's been there
Knows that life ain't sho lovely
On the blood-soaked fast track
That invincible shit don't work
Throw ya in a joint
You'll be comin' out feet first
So I blst the mic with my style
Sometimes I'm ill
The other times buck wild
But the science is always there
I'd be a true sucker
If I acted like I didn'T care
I rap for brothers just like myself
Dazed by the game
In a quest for extreme wealth
But I kick it to you hard and real
One wrong move, and you caps peeled
I ain't no super hero
I ain't no Marvel Comic
But when it comes to game I'm atomic
At droppin' it straight
Point blank and untwisted
No imagination needed, cause I lived it
This ain't no fuckin' joke
This shit is real to me
I'm Ice-T


Two weeks ago I was out at the disco
Two brothers stepped up to me
And said
"Hey yo, Ice
We don't think you're down
What set ya claimin'?"
E drew the Glock, yo my set's aimin'!
Dumb motherfucker
Try to roll on me, please!
I'm protected by a thousand emcees
and hoodlums and hustlers
And bangers with Jeri curls
we won't even count the girls
Cause they got my back
And I got theirs too
Fight for the streets
When I'm on Oprah or Donahue
They try to sweat a nigga
But they just didn'T figure
What my wit's as quick as a hair trigger
"He's not your everyday-type

I'm Ice-T, the original gangster

So step to me
If you think that you're ready to
Got on your bullet proof?
Well mine's goin' right through
This ain't no game to me
It's hollow fame to me
Without respect frome streets
So I don't claim be
The hardest motherfucker on earth
Catch me slippin, I can even get worked
But I don'T slip that often
there's a coffin
Waitin' for the brother
Who comes off soft when
The real fuckin' shit goes down
Take a look around
all them pussies can be found
they talk a mean fight
But fight like hoes
I'm from South Central, fool
Where everything goes
Snatch you out your car so fast
You'll get whiplash
Numbers on your roof top
For when the copters pass
Gang bangers
Don't carry no switch blades
Every kid's got a Tec 9 or a
Hand grenade
Thirty-seven killed
Last week in a crack war

Hostges tied up
And shot in a liquor store
Nobody gives a fuck
"The children have to go to school."
Well, moms, good luck
Cause the shit's fucked up bad
I use my pad and pen
And my lyrics break out mad
I try to write about fun
andthe goodtimes
But the pen yanks away and explodes
And destroys the rhyme
Maybe it's just cause of where I'm from
L.A. that was a shot gun!

O.G. Original Gangster

Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Tracy Marrow (Ice-T)
O.G. Original Gangster lyrics © Reach Music Publishing

Ice-T O.G. Original Gangster album cover.

OG Original Gangster T-shirt.
O.G. Original Gangster T-shirt and hat
available in Red or Blue if you know what I mean.

Wednesday, January 16, 2019

How to Become a Gangsta Rapper

Original link:

Whassup bitches?
According to our data 57.45% of the people who read our green, shitty little website fall firmly in to the Weed Smoking Student demographic, which goes some way to explaining how we're still around after all this time*. This means that, statistically speaking, most of the people reading this are not only blitzed off their tits on psychotropic substances, but also unemployed, poor, and possessing of much free time. What most of these people won't have realised, however, is that they already have half the qualifications needed for a successful career in the noble art of Gangsta Rap.
Let's face it, the standard of Rap music these days is so low that now pretty much anyone with vocal chords and a beatbox can join in. With Hip Hop music sales falling like a manic-depressive lemming on crack, the business is pretty much an open market. Why not exploit the masses, bukkake the world with your musical 'talent' and cash in? Every fucker else has.
With a few notable exceptions, the world of Gangsta Rap hasn't had any new ideas since it first came to prominence in 1988, back when N.W.A shoved their massive musical cocks down the throats of the world. Back then, in the age of ghetto blasters and jheri-curls, their songs about guns, killings, gangs, drugs, death and violence seemed gritty and fresh. 20+ years later rappers are still shouting about the exact same shit, hollering it over and over and over again like a retarded parrot with Tourette's. Never in the history of music has there been so much money made from so little talent. Why not join the orgy and hump a few dollars out of the tepid corpse of the Rap music industry before the bottom falls out completely?
However, it may not be as easy to break into the Rap game as it sounds. Gangsta Rap has evolved its own retarded subculture, and breaking in to the scene requires finesse. Rappers are territorial creatures, after all, and imposters are often shot, stabbed, flayed and raped (in that order) for getting the small details wrong.
Fortunately for you, we wise old sages at TwistedEdge have kindly compiled a how-to guide on how even a smelly, borderline-illiterate scumbag such as yourself can make it big as a Gangsta Rapper. Want your ugly ass up there on MTV with all the rest? Follow our handy little tips, and watch the cash come flowing in...

Fo' Shizzle
First and foremost is this nugget...
Get shot as many times as possible (a.k.a turning lead into gold).
Hey kids, ever hear of 50 Cent? You know, that guy who got shot 9 times in the back, survived, and occasionally makes Rap records? The guy who proved that talent is by no means a pre-requisite to musical superstardom, but getting badly woundedis? Sure, it must suck to be less famous or important than an old injury, but who cares so long as the cash is flowing?
Ever since big names like 2Pac (shot 5 times), Biggie Smalls (4 times) and 50 Cent (9 times) hit the scene, it's near-impossible to get the credibility you need without first encountering some asshole with a pistol. It doesn't matter what your message is, how sweet your delivery, how catchy your hook - without enough gunshot wounds to make the NRA's legal department commit ritual suicide, you may well have to do the unthinkable and get a real job.
Being partially murdered really is important. We cannot state this enough. Heck, there's even league tables for this shit.
Ice T
Case in point: Ice T. Despite literally being a mass-murdering pimp, was never stupid enough to get shot. As a result was rendered obsolete in 1994. Further tragedy struck when he was forced into 'acting' as a result...
If people stopped to think about the situation for a minute, they'd realise just how jaw-droppingly fucking stupid the whole situation is. Getting shot makes you a badass, right? But surely the biggest Gangstas would be the ones who never got shot? Surely if these rappers were as untouchable as they make out in their songs, they wouldn't be stupid enough to let some random dickhead with a cannon shoot them like fish in a barrel?
50 Cent, as mentioned earlier, was shot 9 times in the back. From this we can reasonably observe the following points:
1.) The fact he was shot in the back means he was running away like a frightened pussy. That's just fuckin' hardcore!
2.) Despite hanging around dangerous, violent neighbourhoods, Mr Cent was clearly too stupid to think of Kevlar.
3.) 9 times?? His attackers clearly couldn't shoot for shit, managing to miss every vital organ despite firing enough shots to satisfy a small African war. Lucky for Fiddy the assassins left their glasses at home, eh?
4.) 9 times?!?! 50 Cent's survival would therefore indicate his attackers must have used the lowest caliber ammo known to man. A .22 perhaps (known on the streets as the dreaded 'Faggot Pistol'). Or maybe a pellet gun.
Surely it would make more sense for the record labels to sign the people who did the shooting, rather than the clown who got shot? Or is that too logical?
50 Cent, by the way, made more than $38,000,000 in 2006 alone. Yes, really.
Don't let the idiocy of the situation deter you - if lyrics are to be believed, many rappers are signed from A&E hospital wards rather than the mean streets. It doesn't matter how or why you were shot - be it a drug deal gone bad, a random hit, a botched mugging of an old lady, accidental shotgun discharge via anal insertion, whatever - just so long as you've got lead in you, that's all that counts. Rumour has it that label executives have taken to shooting their own artists during rehearsals, just to stay on top.
Yes, it defies logic as to why war heroes fresh from Iraq haven't decided to cash in on the action (integrity, perhaps?) Maybe this is a gap in the market you could exploit? Afghanistan has many ghettos. I'm sure the 'hoods in downtown Basra are pretty mean. 'Comin' Straight Outta Bagdhad' has a pretty nice ring to it...
If you're serious about making a name for yourself in the decaying Hip Hop market, then bleeding for dollars is your only way in. We'd recommend getting shot at least 10 times though, because more is always better. A smart idea would be to get shot inside a hospital, possibly while chatting to a surgeon, as only established artists get paid after being dead.
Fuck taste. Wear bling.
So, you've finally emerged from hospital after paying your buddies to shoot you repeatedly, at close range, with handgun more closely resembling a potato cannon. The surgery videos are on YouTube. The X-Rays are on Facebook. Reebok are in talks to have you as the face of their new line of shoes (because nothing says 'sport' like a near-crippled crime victim). The record labels swooned and your adoring public is just waiting to drop to its knees and lick the salty, swollen balls of your newfound musical prowess. But what next?
You're a young, up-and-coming Rapper. Naturally, 90% of your rhymes are stories of how you came from the poor streets, raised in poverty, forced to 'sling crack' just to make ends meet. Your ghetto roots define who you are, grounding you in the hardened, crime-filled reality of the slums. Your only excuse for the many crimes you claim to have committed was to afford to put food on the table, and hearing your tales of humble hardship brings a tear to the eye. You mention your 'hood in every Rap, and dedicate every song to the struggle of your homeboys back in the ghetto - those who still have to hustle and struggle just to survive. Their plight reminds you of where you're from - it's not just your mantra, it's your identity.
How best to show this love? By wearing a $50,000 diamond-studded chain and by driving a car with an engine big enough to burn out a medium-sized sun, of course! Smoke cigars that would make South American dictators wince with envy. Do enough drugs to make even the likes of George Jung look like pussy little lightweights by comparison. Have photos taken of you sitting on a throne made of cash too, for good measure. It might not be the right way, but it's the Rap way. Hip Hop artists have been pulling this shit for years - who the hell are you to buck the trend?
Bad taste? You bet. Hypocritical? Hells yes. Borderline retarded? Fo' shizzle. Anything less would be an insult to your peers, forcing them to retreat in sorrow to their mansions to wipe away the tears with $100 bills. This is the Rap game after all. And nobody got to the top in this business without being an egomaniacal, wealth-squandering jackass. Conform to the stereotype - you're a beacon of Hip Hop now and you have the image of a money-hungry whore to uphold. Don't just work the image -live it.
When it comes to bling, subtlety is key. Allow us to illustrate:
Mr T
Flava FlavOh fucking hell no.
What's the point in becoming incredibly rich and famous if you can't rub your wealth in people's faces? Your fans will appreciate knowing you spend more money on one piece of jewelry than they ever could on their own children's education. What's the point of being a star if you can't be shiny? You're the man, you're in charge now, and nothing says "I've made it" quite like having the name of your poor, starving childhood friends written across your chest in blood diamonds.
Being "Gangsta" means that any item of bling worth less than the entire neighborhood you claim you grew up in just isn't worth your time. Don't take "no" for an answer - buy your own diamond mine if that's what it takes to adequately display your riches, and thereby your humble love for the ghetto - it's in the name of musical expression after all, and who could possibly stand in the way of your art?
How much bling should one rapper own? Think in terms of the Queen of England. Double it, sprinkle some more on top, then move on.
As well as carrying the wealth of a small African nation around your neck at all times, you can also accessorise. Diversification is hot these days, and while hilariously large gold chains are the Rap industry standard, there's other subtle ways of parading your obnoxious wealth to the millions who go hungry just to buy your albums. Items of obscene avarice du jour include...
Gold Teeth
Solid gold teeth.
Gold Cell Phones
Solid gold cell phones.
Gold Goblets
Solid gold erm... goblet... thingys?
Gold Cars
Solid gold cars (preferably fueled by the blood of endangered species)
Gold Tampons
Solid gold tampons. Just because.
Gold Toilets
A solid gold shitter. (Whoever said metaphors can't be shiny?
The key words here are obviously "solid" and "gold". Some modern rappers have taken to wearing platinum instead, which is a mistake. Yes, platinum is worth a lot more than gold. But since when did numbers matter to a rapper? Math is hard, damnit! The problem with platinum is that many uneducated observers might mistaken it for silver (a.k.a Peasant Metal). Such an oversight would be more dangerous than a rapist at a children's birthday party.
Clothes play an important role too. Want an example? Try this on for size...
Appearing on MTV Cribs recently, Rap superstar Nelly recently admitted that he only wears a pair of sneakers once, and has over five hundred pairs in his closet, just in case. The entire economy of Malaysia is linked directly to his clothes budget. Yes, really. Delighted sweat shop operators are even having to steal extra children in order to facilitate demand, just to ensure that Nelly always has clean footwear on before hitting "da club". If any kind of dirt or scuff mark stains Nelly's sainted shoes, he has them destroyed immediately and, rumour has it, has an incinerator on stand-by for this very occasion.
That's a decent benchmark, but as an aspiring rapper you should aim higher - as well as having the offending sneakers burned, you should also set fire to the guy who sold them to you too, just to be on the safe side. And the store they were bought in. And the factory they were made in too. Shit, why not? Everyone loves a good bonfire! And history proves that nobody messes with the guy starting all the fires...
This is the kind of jaw-dropping level you must attain if you're truly going to make it big in the Rap game. Sure, the music you'll squeeze out may be instantly forgettable, but legendarily reckless self-indulgence like that is remembered forever.
During our extensive three minutes of research for this article, we uncovered some places where you too can bling up like a shiny Monte Carlo whore - Bling Bling Online is still the standard here in the UK, with King Ice being the snazzy Yankee alternative. Word is that the bitches froth over Iced Out Gear too.
And, as far as bling goes, that's us done with pretending to care.
Beef up security: every successful rapper needs their own battalion of hired goons.
Everybody needs a friend... or sixty
An important tip - always hire security. Be as ostentatious as possible here - the bigger and more pointless your entourage, the bigger your likely success. Nothing says you mean business like storming the MTV Music Awards with a platoon of 50 trained ninjas at your beck and call. Nothing says "I've made it" like having a personal army bigger than Iran's. Arm them with knives, guns, tazers, numchucks and knuckle dusters too, to save you from any pesky thieves / journalists / fans that might be after you.
It's around this time that you need to start referring to yourself in the third person, lest someone see your massive security force and mistaken you for the President of the United States or the Pope. Don't let anyone talk directly to you either - you need to remind those around you who is king (that's you, by the way). Feel free to remind people of this while stood behind your hefty new security. Buy yourself a crown to illustrate your point if need be.
Get ahead of the curve - wear a fuck load of hats.
Ironically, despite the fact that (with a few exceptions) Hip Hop has been basically the same since 1988, being seen as an 'innovator' is very important. You need to be seen as bringing something new to the Rap game, even if you're really just re-hashing the same washed up bullshit as the schmucks before you.
Kanye West for example is seen as a genius the likes of which haven't been encountered since Leonardo Da Vinci walked the earth. Why? Because he was seen wearing those weird, shitty-looking glasses with the horizontal plastic bits across the front. You know the ones I mean - 'Shutter Shades' is what the cool kids call them. 'Ridiculous Plastic Bullshit' to the rest of us. Kanye is seen as a fashion icon now because he bought some tacky 80's bullshit Shutter Shades from the bargain bin of his local car wash, probably while stoned off his tits on grass and PCP, stumbled onto stage with those monstrosities still strapped to his face, and accidentally caused an overnight sensation. Kids worldwide saw this 'innovative' and 'fresh' new look, loaded up on sheep mentality and did somersaults onto the bandwagon. Who gives a shit that a guy called Alain Mikliinvented them, not Kanye? He's seen as an Icon now, all because of that one fashion choice.
You must do the same. But how? What fashion trend will sweep the world's youth? How can you tell which remarkable fashion craze will take off, and which will make you look the biggest social retard since MC Hammer? Well... erm... fucked if we know the answer, to be honest. We are to fashion what Jessica Simpson is to nuclear physics.
However, two bottles of Jack Daniels and half a case of beer have lead us to conclude that the answer is definitely hats. Yes, hats. The more the merrier. There's logic to this, honest...
This is what Redman would look like had he shared our genius.This is what Redman would look like had he shared our genius.
1977: The Watts Prophets amongst with other experimental groups like the Lost Poets are credited by many as having been the inventors of Hip Hop. They were innovative, groundbreaking even, and brandished the kind of raw political message that shocked listeners into action. Truly important stuff about race relations, pride in oneself, identity and kicking the shit out of the police. But nobody's heard of them. Why? No hats. Yes they had huge, impressive, magnificent afros. But no hats.
1988: Niggaz With Attitude (N.W.A) burst onto the scene, with a similarly loud and powerful message - albeit with all that complex stuff about race, the black struggle and The Man left out, and 'bitches' thrown in instead. Millions of albums sold, to the point where even dweeby white folk were buying copies. Yes their sound was seen as groundbreaking compared to the diluted, kiddie-friendly garbage that was filling the airwaves at the time. Yes, the aggressive rapping style of Ice Cube, mixed with the cutting edge production of Dr Dre gave them the kind of beats that were more addictive than chocolate flavoured heroin. But none of that is what really got them fame. As you can see from the weblink - there's one thing they all had in common. Hats. Many hats. One each in fact. See where I'm going with this?
2003: 50 Cent explodes onto the scene with his mega-selling album Get Rich Or Die Tryin' - sells so many copies that the economy literally melts in on itself overnight. Sure, some say its success was due to the metronome vocal delivery, the thug image, or the fact he has so much lead in him he's practically a giant human pencil (shot 9 times, remember?) Others say his massive success was down to his ability to fit more gunshot noises into one track than you'd fit in a whole season of CSI: New York. No, the secret of his success? He didn't wear just one hat. Oh no. This guy wasn't content with the one-hat mediocrity that his peers has settled in to. "No" he screamed, his fist raised triumphantly in the air, "I'm not gonna settle for just one hat. I'm gonna shock the world. Forget fashion, forget common sense, forget all aspects of practical reasoning, forget how impossibly warm it makes my head... I'm gonna wear two hats. TWO. Two hats! You hear that, bitches? TWO MOTHERFUCKING HATS FOR THIS GANSTA!"
Or something to that effect. We're paraphrasing here. His version probably rhymed, had a shit load more 'N Words' in it and the sound of at least 5 police helicopters in there too. But we digress. Fiddy made his money not because of his Rapping, the near-psychotic level of mass marketing, or any of that - the real reason for his fame is the fact that he wore twice as many hats as anyone before him. Thus he became twice as rich, twice as famous. See? It's logic.
So I guess what we're saying here is that to make zillions in the Rap game you've got to go where no artist has had the balls to go before. More hats = more success. But in this hungry, frenzied day and age a mere three hats wouldn't cut it. You could try the 50 Cent method of doubling the previous record number of hats, but four wouldn't do it either. You need to make a statement. Fashion sense and practicality are out - shock and awe are in. You need to throw caution to the wind. I'm talking five hats here. Yes, FIVE.
Yes it's extreme. Yes it's bold. And yes it's really fucking stupid. But this is Hip Hop. Why let the ridiculous stop you from achieving your dreams? Don't do six hats though. That would be a step too far. Six hats would cause a tear in the very fabric of reality, causing the space / time continuum to fold inward upon itself, dooming the very universe. Five is the answer. Because five is more. See?
In conclusion...
So you've got all the hints and tips anyone could ever need to break in to the rabid killing fields of Hip Hop. We hope you enjoyed our funky little guide, and when the millions come raining in, just spare a thought for your dear ol' friends at TwistedEdge who slaved away to give you your success. All we ask is a couple of million, maybe a few Ferraris, a swimming pool filled with champagne - nothing too fancy.
Oh, and before anyone bothers to ask, Tupac > Biggie.
And yes, we were fucking hammered out of our skulls when we wrote this. Quit bitching already.

*It also explains how we inadvertantly became the world's foremost source on Midget Throwing, and how our article on it has been read by enough people to fill Yankee Stadium nearly thrice over.

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Thursday, January 17, 2013

G-Unit - Poppin' Them Thangs

G-Unit - Poppin' Them Thangs (Explicit Version)

Music video by G-Unit performing Poppin' Them Thangs. (C) 2003 G Unit/Interscope Records

"Poppin' Them Thangs"
[Hook x2]
[50 Cent]
Every hood we go through
All the gangstas around know my whole crew (nigga what)
We hold it down like we supposed to
Nigga you can front if you want, we be poppin' them thangs

[50 Cent]
After the VMAs my baby momma cuss my ass out.
I kicked her ass we back friends like Puffy and Steve Stout
Cut the grass around my clique so I could see these sneaks
You see back in the hood it's 'cause I see they fake
I preach a sermon about the paper like I'm creflo dollar
I'll pop you punk niggaz like I pop my collar
I'm confused; I like Megan, Monica and Mya.
Missy's freaky and Brandy's shy, uh
Now take a look at how my lifestyle changed up.
I'm on now, god damn it I done came up.
Now you could find me with the finest hoes.
Choosin' which whip to drive by what match my clothes.
I got a fetish for the stones, heavy on the ice man
If I ain't gotta pistol on me, sure I got a knife man
Get outta line and I'm lightin' your ass up.
Semi-automatic spray, I'll tighten your ass up (what)

[Hook x2]

[Lloyd Banks]
Slow down little nigga
Don't exceed your speed
'Cause I will put G's on they fitted like the Negro league
I got connects so I don't need no weed
I've been in LA for a year now
So I don't see no seeds
After I'm done you clappin' the crew
Hell yeah, I fuck fans
Guess what your favorite rapper does too
In a minute I'ma have the jeweler makin' my rims spin
My crew run wild at the Jamaica's at Kingston
Nothin' but bling bling in you face boy
That's why my neck shine like one of them shirts Puffy and Mase wore
I done find a nympho as soon as I pop a bra
She had my balls head first just like a soccer star
You can only stand next to the man if you proper
you'll take care of birds like a animal doctor
Been out and I'm buzzin' niggas just slept on me
So I'm out for revenge like one of Bin Laden's cousins

[Hook x2]

[Young Buc]
Read the paper, look at the news
We one the front page
Yeah we in the Bahamas with AK's on the stage
The ice and the Jacob watch make a broke nigga take somethin'
So I gotta keep the four fifth with no safety button
G-Unit getting' money
I know some artists is starvin'
But play the game like they rich to me this shit funny
I know you see me comin'
'Cause on the front of the Maybach
It say payback for those who hated on me
I hate when niggas claim they bangin' a gang
You ain't no crip like snoop
You ain't no blood like game
See I've been having beef
I have my own bullet proof vest
Most of my enemies dead I got about two left
Until my last breath I'm sendin' niggas bullet holes
Innocent bystanders get hit tryin' to be heroes
You know how we roll
Every where that we go
It's fo' fos', calicos, and desert eagles (yeah)

[Hook x2]