50 Cent Movin On Up Lyrics

The realist thing you could do
Is put a drum beat wit nothing but a drum beat

*****s *****s copy my style russ
Thats why I had to switch upon 'em, know what I mean
Man *****s copy my style man

I run the show now, I got the blow now
You wanna hold now? You can come cop
I'm on the low now, I got the fo' pound
Encase a mother ****er got to get shot
The only time is coming, slow down
See they know now, I wont hesitate to make **** hot
D's will shut your block down, after your shot down
We gonna come through and set up shop
You *****s gone work for me now, you gone see now
How I change ****, re-arrange ****
See for you dog, this is new ****
I'm from Southside, ***** we do this
They say I'm grimey, its hard to find me
When sun lighten up the sky
*****s wanna line me, try and kill me
Go 'head ***** I dare you to try, **** that *****!

[Chorus]
We movin' on up, yeah we gettin' that dough, fa' sho'
We movin' on up, you'll get chromed up,
Cash is flow fa' sho', the dough, ***** you know what?
We movin' on up, yeah we gettin' that dough, fa' sho'
We movin' on up, you'll get chromed up,
Cash is flow fa' sho', the dough, ***** you know what?

I'm 'bout my bread now, I'll cut your head now
You know you eatin' *****s you should be dead now
I hold a glock down, I gotta drop now

***** I'm eatin' you know I ain't gone stop now
One more trip, one more flip
I move a truckload *****, not one brick
They make me so sick, ****in' sick to my stomach
You ***** talk ****, but they know that I want it
My clicks so sick, *****s know how we on it
Light up more ****, the car there when we on it
I spit a gem star get'cha name carved into neck
Have my lil' homies run up on yo' *** with the tek
Yeah I stunt in the 'vette , got stash in the bank
I get head in the whip, I get *** on the jet
I'm oh so fresh, so I'm motha****in' clean
With a 4 inch gleam, when I pull up on the scene

[Chorus]

Been smokin' that dip, the P.C.P. got 'em thinkin' they can walk on water
That ecstasy will have a ***** rock hard tryna **** your daughter
The L.S.D. will have *****s runnin' round tryna kill you for us
Smokin' that piff, sippin' that yak, talkin' that ****, loadin' that strap

[Chorus]

Written by: Christine Yarian Perren, Curtis James Jackson, Frederick Perren, Leon Ware
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group

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