“Street King Energy Track #7 (You Lose)”
You, I love you so much
I can’t deny how much I love you, yeah
[50 Cent:]
Alright, alright, that’s enough
Niggas ain’t gonna hear that shit
Nigga this is simple, not complicated
I-I-I can’t be faded
I’m starting to think I made it
Get out of line, out line, line, out line
Do your act like you got a vagina, you pussy nigga
Front on me, I’ll find, find, I’ll find ya
There’s no running from me
Picture me in my darkest hour
I would rather be marked for death than mark the coward
Like the blood in your veins
You fuck around I make you bang yourself like Cobain
Turn around disappear, thin air like David Blaine
I’m higher than Jevolter he’s flying a plane
No evaluation necessary, I’m insane
The barrow that llama, hot, yeah like a sauna
Bricks in the door panel causing to fare Osama
Time for a tale of shoes, you fare damo
Don Corleone, let’s talk mano-a-mano
I’m crashing the train, they call me the piano man
I move the keys fuck a piano, man
I’m sort of like a one man band with a trumpet
Beef I let it blow, I hop a fence and dump it
Niggas be talking all that jazz
When they get down to the get down they ask
That base so deep, my heart so cold
I let you hear that street sweeper drum line row
[Hook:]
Rat-a-tat tat, rat-a-tat tat tat tat, I never hesitate to put a nigga on his back
You lose, cause I got the ill street blues
You lose, I’ll see you on the 6 o’clock news
Rat-a-tat tat, rat-a-tat tat tat tat, I never hesitate to put a nigga on his back
You lose, cause I got the ill street blues
You lose, I’ll see you on the 6 o’clock news
This vintage 50 call it my tommy gun bounce
Say the wrong shit out your mouth I’ll A your ass out
One line, one bar, I’ll be on you so fast
My night work like I’m fresh out Alcatraz
I don’t wanna play so I don’t play fair
You know it’s not polite to stare at my cartiere
Yeah, I’m enjoying the fruits of my labor
Coke boy, the dope boy, now a nigga major
I used to cut crack on my grandmama China
And cook coke think I’m the chef from Elle’s Diner
Smoke it, I could smoke a kush through the jar
When I’m tripping, I might put a clip through your car
They say I’m sick, then tell me how I made it this far
I love war, in fact, I’m the commander
I want you to open the box of pandor’
I’ll destroy you and everything you stand for
[Hook]
Yeah, I’m a South-side nigga to the bone
And when my niggas ain’t around, I do it on my own
Check my track record nigga, haha, 50 yeah
That’s cool for starters, but we gotta get to the shit
Wait till y’all hear the shit
About 50 Cent Lyrics
Artist: 50 Cent
Related Song: Still Think I’m Nothing Lyrics
Born: July 6, 1975 (age 47 years), Queens, New York, United States
Full name: Curtis James Jackson III
Parents: Sabrina Jackson
Children: Marquise Jackson, Sire Jackson
Years active: 1996 –present
Occupation: Rapper; actor; television producer; …
Labels: Caroline; Capitol; G-Unit; Shady; After…
Awards: Full list