[50 Cent]
I wanna be the reason you smile after you wipe ya tears
The reason you have the courage to confront ya fears
The reason there's two karats in each of ya ears
I splurge with the paper ma, I don't care
How you like it, pumps or boots, jeeps or coops
Minks or leathers, fifty fall off never
Whats mine is yours and whats yours is mine
So when I shine, you shine
The finest champagne, we can toast to life
Crap table in Vegas, you can toss the dice
Don't let ya fears let you confuse sayin' "fifty's bad news"
I need you in my life girl, your too much to lose

[Beat switches]

[Hook]
Nigga, you won't deny that I'ma fuckin' ride out
Then you'll bump heads wit me
I'll put a hole in yo ass, you'll see
That it ain't cool to fuck wit me

[Tony Yayo]
G-Unit, I roll wit gorillas
Fuck a big body guard, I hang wit pint size killas
I ain't tryin' to be dirty, still on the strip
I'm tryin' to be dirty, filthy rich
Give a nigga too much rope, he think he a cowboy
Give Tony too much dope, I'm pushin' the big boy
V12, SL detailed
I rap and wait for them checks in the mail
If you hatin', your due time life will expire
Cause my guns speak jamaican, they be like "Bloodfire!"
Where I'm from, niggas be on some sleak shit
They hungry, use they lighters to cook their beef stick

And this 'dro and this nestle got me right
So my lungs be as black as Wesley Snipes
I'm on first class flights heading towards Vegas
Ya slot machines niggas, we crap table players
I roll a seven, cause we crap table players

[Hook]
Nigga, you won't deny that I'ma fuckin' ride out
Then you'll bump heads wit me
I'll put a hole in yo ass, you'll see
That it ain't cool to fuck wit me

[Lloyd Banks]
I know a lot of niggas want Banks gone
My kind of beef will fuck up ya grill and not the kind you put franks on
I'm hidin' out, so my meals is home cooked
I deal wit more ho's than a chinese phone book
Your high with your messed up ratchets
I'm out blowin' haze bags the size of ketchup packets
Fuck who's in ya ride, there's tools on my side
By the females standin' with tattoos on they thighs
There's a lot of cats losin' they wives
Cause next time I see 'em, they got black and blues on they eyes
Nah, I ain't ready to die, but I'm prepared
But I'd rather grow old with grey hairs in my beard
They know me in the field, the kid with the fans
That argue over my balls like Kobe and Shaquille
If you talkin' bout millions throw me in the deal
Big city, stadium tour, ruining the bill motherfucker

Whoo Kid

[50 Cent talking]

[Hook]
You want beef wit me? take a number, and get in line
You bump heads wit me? I pop ya top off wit the nine
You mad at me? Shit cause you can't shine
You ain't gettin' yours? thats fucked up cause I'm gettin' mine

[50 Cent]
I got a M1 in my hand, I'm feelin' to start killin' shit
I'm not the nation's new Malcolm X, but I'm militant
What, I'm supposed to be scared cause you got a big chest?
My four fifth will lift you and your motherfuckin' bench press
Why you screamin' war senseless, I'm tryin' to spaz
Swing my knife, tore break it off in yo ass
Niggas get hugged up in the huddle, I know how to clear 'em out
Four fifth, four shots, that'll fuckin' air 'em out

In the hood niggas love me cause I keep it real
G-Unit niggas, they gon' always make bail
Whether it's two G's or twenty G's
Whether or not wit two pieces or two keys
Bitch please, get on ya knees you can lick these balls
I'm not that nigga that you striptease for
You gotta a problem or anger nigga to call
Cause I'm out like a pimp and a trick, bitch!

[Hook]
You want beef wit me? take a number, get in line
You bump heads wit me? I pop ya top off wit the nine
You mad at me? Shit cause you can't shine
You ain't get yours? That's fucked up cause I'm gettin' mine

[50 Cent talks till end]