G-Unit G-Unit Lyrics
Beg for Mercy Track Listing
2 Poppin’ Them Thangs
3 My Buddy
4 I’m So Hood
5 Stunt 101
6 Wanna Get to Know You
7 Groupie Love
8 Better Ask Somebody
10 Eye for an Eye
12 Baby You Got
13 Salute You
14 Beg for Mercy
15 G’d Up
16 Lay You Down
17 Gangsta Shit
18 I Smell Pussy
Yeah! 50 Cent, Lloyd Banks, Young Buck,
G G G G G-Unit! Haha!
Vacate your home I come to brake your bones
Americas nightmare we at it again
A desert eagle and a black mack 10
And never know what happened
When we come through them cowards don't want none
They screaming at they murderer's but walkin' with no guns
Come with me but don't run and die where your standin'
See I'm holdin' on this cannon and your life I'm demandin'
Put the pipe to your melon and your brains on the pavement
These *****s is talkin' think that security goin' save them
Nobody gon speak when homicide pay a visit
Look you right in the eyes and yell ya "we don't know who did it"
Corrupted by street corner by shootin' at the police
The feins up all night and the neighbors gettin' no sleep
You betta get used to it you know how we do it
Shady Aftermath Interscope and G-Unit.
We got action when you don't
Show are places when you won't
G-Unit, [50 Cent] G-G-G-G, G-Unit
Now I told ya'll on my first Dre joint I am Loco
Betta than soso the games in the choke hold
Disney's is a nono I perfected the slow flow
In D.C. they dance the gogo
In L.A.they ride on lolo's
G-Unit in the house, oh no
You ain't ready it's heavy
Old school rollin' I'm holdin'
20 inches spinnin' from the beginnin' we winnin'
Gain's his masculinity pimpin' we not pretendin'
Drop top glock **** ready for the drama
Pistol's pop cop shot I'm heavy with them laama's
Non-sop make it hot we the top regardless
You can be the hardest
We'll just be the smartest
I warn you not to start us
We're not you average artist's
My ***** is like a goddess
When paparazzi spot us
Cause flick after flick same ol' **** that I kick, haha!
Guess who's back ************ gun in the clip
Ready to smack up on these suckers that's runnin' they lip
You can try any one of my shoes on none of em fit
Your hundreds are shorter I'll your pops his son is a daughter
All I need is some cigars and quarter a couple cars and a lawyer
Kinda packin' a ***** and I'll be back with a hit
I'm that sick, Who the hell you thought it was
I got expensive habits I can't afford it cause
G-Unit is poppin' and we performin' all the clubs
*****s be shovin' and pushin' as someone is gooshin' surpise
She's givin' up the buns on her cushion
Sweatin' and screamin' suckin' me off the rest of the evenin'
And I'm leavin', on to the next city
Stashbox in the bus to I can bring the tex with me
I gotta go cause I'm gettin' over you *****s ain't over
Written by: David darnell brown, christopher charles lloyd, hans bathelt, hans-Juergen fritz, curtis james jackson
Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group