[50 Cent]
Look If you ain’t worth a mil, you ain’t far from broke
Got anought heart to sell weed but you scared of dope
I wouldn’t snitch on my peoples if the feds grabbed me
Yo ass would hit more notes than Ron Isley
I wouldn’t rhyme about Rolleys if I had no watch
Wouldnt write about crack if I ain’t had no spot
You talk six coupe shit you only pushing a trey
Got bitches shutting you down in the C.L.K
For cats like you, crime don’t pay
You just linger in the hood, them niggaz blow you away
You the type to get paper when I’m locked up, get yo jewels rocked up
Then have to tuck em in when I pop up
Niggaz in the hood sayin “50′s Grimy”
Cause they hit me wit Kosami and now they can’t find me
If you see it how I see it, my watch is yo whip
And I can cop anotha one afta each assist

[Chorus] x 2
You ain’t no gangsta
You’se a busta, a customer, a sucker
You fake fraudulent motherfucker
You ain’t a gangsta
I should cut ya, cock back and bust ya or stomp you out cause
We don’t trust ya

[50 Cent]
You owe a nigga? You don’t wanna pay him?
Kill him, that’s what they said ta ta disapper him
Y’all ain’t got to believe me
When I’m done with this rhyme if theres time I’ll hit a flick
Wit Mariella this connect bitch, Peruvian chick
She ain’t hot but eevrytime I fuck the coke right drops
When it’s time to get it on (what)
I pull over the thong (uh huh)
Fuck till I nut then get up, I’m gone (yeah)
Usualy hit it watchin tele way out in L.A.
I like it when she say “Papi I feel it in my Belly”
Call up all my niggaz in New York on the celly
First thing I’m sayin is “Nigga what da deally”

Pack a trey pound up under my Pelle Pelle
Y’all niggaz want war, clap clap, Oh really?
I watch niggaz slang packs in front of the deli
Got 20 inch chrome sittin on my perili
Lorenzo on the Benzo nigga you feel me?

[Chorus] x 2
You ain’t no gangsta
You’se a busta, a customer, a sucker
You fake fraudulent motherfucker
You ain’t a gangsta
I should cut ya, cock back and bust ya or stomp you out cause
We don’t trust ya

[50 Cent]
Fix the cell, blast the room devil spray, turnin proof
Hoe whip, bulet proof, yopu ain’t fuckin wit me, duke
Bricks from Filipe, 19 five, what we pay
Cop on a week mad hard to catch him on the weekday
Niggaz backed up, slugs to the gut, that’ll bet him up
Gettin fed thru his arm in a hospital wil slim him up
Get it thru yo head, 50 Cent don’t care
I cock triggers light the blockup, iller than times square
Real shit, you spit it cause you seen it
I spit it cause I did it and I mean it
Man, I don’t like none of y’all
Fuck around I’ll run in y’all pop one in y’all
Had the whole hood talkin bout what I done to y’all
Listen I don’t give a fuck if you blood or cuz
I got love for thugs niggaz firing slugs
Stage rapping ass niggaz ain’t sold no drugs
Gotta show me some love cause my sins are bluffed

[Chorus] x 2
You ain’t no gangsta
You’se a busta, a customer, a sucker
You fake fraudulent motherfucker
You ain’t a gangsta
I should cut ya, cock back and bust ya or stomp you out cause
We don’t trust ya

Verse 1:
How you gonna take this? like a Man or a bitch?
You gon’ get it on nigga or you gon’ snitch?
I represent niggas in the hood gettin’ rich
Man, I stack chips and I unload clips
After 3 Summers in the joint I thought life was hard
Some niggas started fightin’, some niggas found God
You know me, started sellin’ leek in the yard
Yo, I ran into niggas who used to have Hummers
Big as Hell in the joint wearin’ ’86 numbers
Damm Dog, you been in here that long?
You could think that, but say that and yo’ ass is dead wrong
A convo is only three words, “yo whattup”
You ain’t gotta work out to leave this bitch cut up
Let a nigga find out you on some goin’ home shit
And you tryin’ to bounce without payin’ a loan, shit
Some niggas beat cases on the strength of they cream
After the witnesses disappeared on the strength of they team
I’m hard as Hell to get along wit’ so it never fails
A nigga I got beef with end up in the same jail
He had a L rolled in bible paper blowin’ the lye
I sent him a little kite just to be blowin’ his high
And when I shot you in NewYork why would I box you now?
If I catch you in the yard I’m'a ox you down
Niggas you think is real really can’t hold they own
I’ll have ‘em on some E.T. shit tryin’ to phone home
In here a gemstar is like a Nine Milly chrome
It’s similar, infact they’ll both split ya dome
Scars are souvenirs, niggas always take ‘em home.

Chorus -
You got blown over the jack? (that ain’t gangsta)
Your Man ran when you got clapped? (that ain’t gangsta)
Rockin’ a vest with no gat? (that ain’t gangsta)
You only a thug when you rap? (that ain’t gangsta)

Niggas jooked you for your track? (that ain’t gangsta)
You ran to other thugs to get it back? (that ain’t gangsta)
Niggas ran off with your packs? (that ain’t gangsta)
If you ain’t bustin’ ya gat (that ain’t gangsta)

Verse 2:
You’d call me an Animal if you seen me livin’ on lock
I stay in a box cats be shook when I’m visitin’ pop-ulation
When I walk by, niggas like “Fifty don’t play Son”
“yeah, somethin’ really wrong with that nigga…”
Max out, I’m goin’ straight for the glock
Bust a u-turn, I’m goin’ straight to the block
The things that’ll happen if niggas say I can’t eat
Down goes the window….out goes the heat
I’ll make the whole block look like a fuckin’ trackmeet
Some get it in the leg, some get it in the back
Some get it in the foot, bleed all over their airmax
Nigga pump my packs or pay poor tax
It’s extortion, it happens in the hood often
Claim more lives than choices, free abortions
Rich Nice says I got a problem with the dice
’cause I put the title to the Benz on the line twice
I rock shit ’cause I stay on that block shit
That 9mm Ruger to your knot shit
See the difference is I’m real and you not, kid
I still stash crack money in my sock, shit
Ya’ll niggas wanna pop shit? I pop clips
Leave with your blood on my mink in the drop Six
Guiliani and Pataki can’t stop this
Since ’86 my whole clique pop Criss.

Chorus
5-5-1 BLLLAAAP BLLLAAAP!!
1-3-4 BLLLAAAP BLLLAAAP!!
What the fuck you know about that?