Your lifes on the line (50 Cent)

(Verse 1)
Nobody likes me...
Nobody likes me
But that`s ok
Cuz I don`t like yall anyway
An` I don`t like yall anyway
Yo!My watch talk for me
My whip talk for me
My gat talk for me
BLAW! what up homie
The bitches who don`t know me
They wanna blow me
Cuz the shit I floss with
be sayin` everything for me
I came into rap humbly
I don`t give a fuck now
I`ll serve anybody
like niggas who hustle uptown
The coke price go up
Cats just come down
The D`s run in my crib
I`m nowhere to be found
Niggas who hustle for me
They don`t even stash cracks
They keep it on `em
Right there in they ass crack
I don`t like a nigga
I don`t pretend to
I`ll Have the paramedics wrappin`
Your fuckin` head like a Hindu
Look I ain`t goin` nowhere
So be used to me
OG`s look at me
An` see I`m what they used to be
I`m that nigga that sold coke
The nigga that sold dope
The nigga that shot dice
Went broke an` sold soap
The thug that pop shit
The thug that pop myth`s
The thug that went from 3 1/2
To a whole brick
Nigga ain`t in his right mind
Goin` against me
My bitches pray at the words
That make a blind man see

(Hook)
Scream Muurdaaa
I don`t believe you
Muurdaaa
Fuck around an` leave you
Muurdaaa
I don`t believe you
Murda, murda
Your life`s on the line
Ya`ll niggas don`t
Want no parts of me
I`m tryin` to figure out
How ya`ll started me
You gon` make me
Catch you on a late night
Pop shots with the fifth
Then slide off in the six

(Verse 2)
I`m not a marksman while sparkin`
So I spray random
Not a pretty nigga
But my moms think I`m handsome
I hate to hear he say
She say shit
Unless he say
She says
She on my dick
It`s no coincidence
Niggas who fuck wit` me
Get shot up (blaw, blaw)
I`ll do a Cali-style-
Drive by, an` tear your block up
You soft duke
You puttin` up a crazy front
I stay wit` the mack
Them niggas tried to blaze me once
In the hood they`re like "Damn!"
"50 really spit it on `em."
"You heard that shit?"
"Yeah, 50 really shitted on `em."
Beef, you don`t want none
So don`t start none
You just a small playa in this game
Play your part, son

(Hook)
Scream Muurdaaa
I don`t believe you
Muurdaaa
Fuck around an` leave you
Muurdaaa
I don`t believe you
Murda, murda
Your life`s on the line

(Verse 3)
These cats always
Escape reality when they rhyme
That`s why they write about bricks
An` only dealt with dimes
Leave it to them
An` they say they got a fast car
Nascar
Truck with a crash bar
An` TV`s in the dash, Pa
See them in the five
Wit` stock rims
I just laugh, Pa
I catch stunts
When I ain`t tryin`
I ain`t lyin`
I sip Don P `til I spit up
Keep my wrist lit up
Get out of line
I`ll get you hit up
Now if you say my name
In your rhymes
You better watch what you say
You get carried away
You could get shot
An` carried away
Now here`s a list of MC`s
That could kill you in eight bars
50, ummm....
Jay-Z and Nas
I`ma say this shit now
An`never again
We ain`t buddies
We ain`t partners
An` we damn sure ain`t friends
The games you playin`
You get killed like that
Actin` like you all hard
You ain`t built like that
See me, when you see me nigga
What! What!

(Hook)
Scream Muurdaaa
I don`t believe you
Muurdaaa
Fuck around an` leave you
Muurdaaa
I don`t believe you
Murda, murda
Your life`s on the line
Ya`ll niggas don`t
Want no parts of me
I`m tryin` to figure out
How ya`ll started me
You gon` make me
Catch you on a late night
Pop shots with the fifth
Then slide off in the six

Есть ошибки или текст неправильный? Вы можете его откорректировать.