Lifes On The Line - 50 Cent

Nobody likes me Nobody likes me, but that’s okay

Cause I don’t like y’all anyway

… And I don’t like y’all anyway

Fuck all y’all!

My watch talk for me, my whip talk for me My gat talk for me BLAT!

Whattup homie

For bitches who don’t know me

… They wanna blow me Cause the shit I floss wit sayin a lot for me I came into rap humble, I don’t give a fuck now

Serve anybody like niggaz who hustle uptown

Coke price go up, cats is come down

The D’s run in my crib, I’m nowhere to be found

The bitch who hustle for me, they dont even stash tracks

They keep it on 'em, right there in they ass crack

When I don’t like a nigga, I don’t pretend to

I’ll have the paramedics wrap your fuckin head like a Hindu

Look, I ain’t goin nowhere, so get used to me OG’s look at me and see what they used to be

I’m that nigga that sold coke, the nigga that sold dope

The nigga that shot Dice when he broke to So So

The thug, they pop shit, the thug that pop clips

The thug that went from three and a half to whole bricks

Nigga ain’t in his right mind, goin against me My picture’s painted through words that make a blind man see

Scream murder!

(I don’t believe you!)

Murder!

(Fuck around and leave you!)

Murder!

(I don’t believe you!)

Murder, murder!

(Your life’s on the line!)

Y’all niggaz don’t want no parts of me

I’m tryna figure out how y’all started me Make me catch her on the late night

Pop shots wit the fifth and slide off wit the six

I’m not a marksmen while spark issue, I spray random

Not a pretty nigga but my moms think I’m handsome

I hate to hear He say, She say shit

Unless he say she say she on my dick

It’s no coincidence, niggaz who fuck wit me get shot up I do a Cali style drive by and tear ya block up You soft through, be puttin up a crazy front

I stay wit the Mac, cause niggaz tried to blaze me once

In the hood they be like, Damn, 50 really spitted on 'em

You heard that shit?

Yeah, 50 really shitted on 'em

Beef, you don’t want none, so don’t start none

You just a small player in this game, play a part son

These cats always escape reality when they rhyme

That’s why they write about bricks and only dealt wit dimes

Leave it to them, and they say they got a fast car

Nascar, truck wit a crash bar, and TV’s in the dash, pa See 'em in the five wit stock rims, I just laugh, pa I catch stunts when I ain’t tryin

I ain’t lyin, I sit Dom P til I split up Keep my rent split up Get outta line, I get you hit up (Wooo!)

Now if you say my name in your rhyme, watch what you say

You get carried away, you can get shot and carried away

Now here’s a list of MC’s that can kill you in eight bars:

50, umm Jay-Z and Nas

I’ma say this shit now and never again

We ain’t buddies, we ain’t partners and we damn sure ain’t friends

The games you playin, you get killed like that

Actin like you all hard, you ain’t built like that

See me when you see me nigga, one (one)

Y’all niggaz don’t want no parts of me

I’m tryna figure out how y’all started me You gon make me catch her on the late night

Pop shots wit the fifth and slide off wit the six