Corregir Letra Banks victory de 50 Cent

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Letra actual de la canción

[50 Cent] Yo, yo we can´t stay alive forever So if shit hit the fan then we might as well die together I´m high as ever, more holes and more cheddar G-Unit move around wit them pounds and berreta´s Yea faggot, 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 cocky, raps rocky, nigga you sloppy You know that I´m, 8 levels above you nigga I´ll club you nigga, I never heard of you nigga, ugly nigga I´m the wrong one to provoke You rattin on niggas is only gon´ leave you smoke So the only thing left now is tools for these cowrads I got no friends, fuck most of these cowards They pop shit ´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 shit 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 fuck us I ain´t here to drop knowledge on you suckas I´ll sick rottweiler´s on you fuckas, 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, nigga 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 to watch botherin ya vision You 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 cuz 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 niggas since Craig Mack Now every morning´s a fast start And there aint problem gettin dressed cuz my closet got more aisles than pathmark Run, move startin a wave 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 puttin my braids Niggas find what club they at take ´em wit us, and run a train on ´em like a subway mac get advances from grey agra see these record labels got most artists gettin fucked like the gay rappa´ i go the college on the tour I´m goin down in history nigga, next to Wallace and Shakur I keep ya ammo clean, text 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 fuck, you gon´ have to murder me Burglary, I´m leavin wit cha nike´s bergendy, White T, bergendy you match now, back down niggas love to hate you, but love you when you disappear catch me on the boat wit weed smoke and fishin´ gear heavy when I toke, C notes from different years Besly in the robe, re-motes for liftin chairs You ain´t rich, but we glad to snatch ya I send cars to 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 Nigga [50 Cent] Still in the projects nigga, you ain´t goin nowhere you gon´ fuckin be there for the rest of yo muthafuckin 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 muthafucka, he ain´t goin nowhere get yaself a beer, get on the fuckin curve fuckin dirtbag

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