G-Unit Betta Ask Somebody Lyrics

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[50 Cent]
I, know, you, know
I'm, on, fire

[Chorus: 50 Cent]
If, you don't know, who I be
You better ask somebody about me
Oh, you want to be tough *****, a look is enough
I put that snub nose to ya and bust *****
If, you don't know, who I be
You better ask somebody about me
And they'll tell ya I'm a soldier boy
And I done told ya, over and over boy

[Lloyd Banks]
I come from a big city, the streets corrupt
Now I'm rollin with snub-noses to heat you up
Out here *****s'll do anything to reach a buck
Cause when you broke you can't afford to **** ya sneakers up
I take my time, keep my mind on my bank funds
Learn how to separate the real from the fake ones
And on my heater nina rep what could I carry on
My ***** just lost his momma, and his daddy gone
From now on I can provide cause my paper's straight
Family losing his legs, but I can take the weight
Some *****s hate but I'll be damned if they hold me down
Front *****s didn't know me then, bet they know me now
Blunt and a smile, eventually it'll be a frown
Cause every time I turn around a ***** locked down
While I'm in the world, tryin to bring my loot through
Hopin one day we can kick it like we used to, my *****


[Young Buck]
They never seen 26's on a Hummer
My goal is to try to **** Trina by the summer
Some *****s hate me, but they only made me
Go and put mo' ice in my mouth than Baby (bling bling!)
G-Unit and Shady, them dudes is crazy
Next time, we only using Dr. Dre's beats
**** you, pay me, take your magazine flicks
This ain't no Nelly here, take a good look at this
Got the wrists of a chemist and the heart of a hustler
Plus I probably done robbed mo' artists than Russell
Always in trouble, you can blame my mother
Gave birth to a gorilla and raised him in the jungle
I ain't crawled, I stumbled across the Mexican with birds
Papi had coke and new plates and pounds of herb
Keep my hand on my glock, and my ear to the streets
I'm a country boi, you can hear it when I speak


[50 Cent]
Bentley is all dreams, G-5 agendas
The hood'll make a ***** heart colder than December (yeah!)
Don't take much to make my gun go off
One shot'll make a hardrock look oh so soft (woo!)
If you don't know you better ask who I be
Or end up in ICU getting fed through a IV
Down in the Lou', they say they feeling me dirty
In New Orleans they say I'm that *****, ya heard me?
From them South side blocks to Watts, West side don't front
You know about them Grape street Gangstas, G'd up
Rollin that weed up
***** get outta line, get shot stabbed jacked
Hit with a bat or beat up
**** that, we're on that same bullshit
Same forty-cally glock, same full clip
***** claat bwoy, ya nah want to tak wif me
I'm a real rudebwoy, ya nah want to ruf wif me


Written by: David Darnell Brown, Christopher Charles Lloyd, Pierre Alain Dahan, Curtis James Jackson
Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group

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