8 Mile Road [G-Unit Remix]

Yeah, 50 Cent, Lloyd Banks Tony Yayo, G-Unit This rap shit plays a major part in my life So if you jeopardize it I got the right To send a motherfucker at you tonight G-Unit And I ain't stopping till my clique popping, swimming in barrels of money Ma could walk around with her head up cause it (?) you, dummy It's funny, niggas'd rather see you suffering and hungry I'm comfy as hell skating with another nigga's money You lying your ass off, you know you ain't that tough I'm pulling your mask off as soon as you act up You know what I came for, a piece of the game, boy Artillery that's about as long as a chainsaw By the way, man, this feels like I've been dreamin' Forty cal. under my pillow, condom feeling my semen The physical presence of a female in he forms of a demon That's why I fuck 'em and leave 'em, get my nut while I'm breathin' Cause they thought they'd catch me slipping, now I'm ducking and driven That's a thousand dollar outfit, what the fuck is you rippin'? You tripping, no record could get my ass in position Death waits for no religion whether Catholic or Christian Listen, I went through mama bitching in and out the kitchen With probable cause, it's probably sending out to prison You got soldiers, but you still gotta respect ours We got more four five's and nines than a deck of cards You can take me out the hood But can't take the hood out me ('cause what?) Cause I'm ghetto, I'm ghetto Niggas hate when you do good But when you broke Your friends and your enemies they love you, they love you "Cheche, get the Yayo" Picture me being crack, out of town, trips on the trail "Cheche, get the Yayo" Picture me being crack (Tony Yayo!) You can sniff me, cut me, I'll turn you to a junkie I'm the number one seller in the whole fucking country Wall Street niggas, they cop me on the low White boys don't call me coke, they call me blow It's time to go, on the bus, the train, the plane I'll smuggle, I'm nothing but trouble I'll make your money double, cook me in baking soda I'll turn your Hooprock into a new Range Rover I'll pay all your bills and fill your 'frigerator Feed your family, turn your man to a hater Put me in your doorpanels or your stashbox Put me in your Nikes, Timbs or Reeboks If you cop three and a half you hustling backwards Cop a hundred grams, you moving forwards You trying to move more birds N PA all day, on the corner of Third, nigga what? You can take me out the hood But can't take the 'hood out me (what?) Cause I'm ghetto, I'm ghetto Picture me polishing pistols, I'm coming to get you The shells hit you, you screamin' Think I'm playing? I mean it Man, I done bought all these pistols, let's get it popping Start wavin' my emboies, shell cases get to dropping If death is around the corner I got too much pride to hide I'm outside, gun in my pocket, just stunting, no stopping I'm dying to pop it, I'm young and I'm restless You know my contestants As the world turns, there's lessons to be learned Count all my blessings, clean up my weapons I'm ready for war, the strong survive, the weak shall perish I told you before Hoes, they compliment me now like, "50, nice chain" Bellagio, twenty grand of chips at a dice game Burn out, can't stop, gotta watch MTV, BET Nigga, you see me I wonder if you mad cause I'm doing good Or 'cause niggas feeling me more than you in your own hood And it hurts 'cause you love 'em and they don't love you back Cause they know you just rapping and you don't bust a gat You pussy Yeah, explain it to the niggas in your hood, nigga They know you fucking fronting, nigga Talking like gangstas on a record I see you, nigga. Niggas know me, nigga Ask around in my hood, nigga Read the Daily News, nigga You see them talking about me, nigga I'm in the middle of all kinds of shit Pussy, let's get it popping