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50 Cent - Many Men (Unedited)

dodał: Administrator
czytano: 141 razy


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"50 Cent feat. Lloyd Banks
Many Men (Wish Death)

[Lloyd Banks]
Man we gotta go get something to eat man
I'm hungry as a motherfucker!
[50 Cent]
Ay yo man, damn what's taking homie so long son?

[Lloyd Banks]
50, calm down, here he come...

[9 Shots]

[Banks and 50]
Ahh, ohh, what the fuck?!

[50 Cent]
Ahh! son, pull up! pull up!

[50 Cent]
Many men, wish death upon me
Blood in my eye dog and I can't see
I'm try'n to be what I'm destined to be
And niggas try'n to take my life away
I put a hole in a nigga for fuckin' wit' me
My back on the wall, now you gon' see
Better watch how you talk, when you talk about me
'Cause I'll come and take your life away

Many men, many, many, many, many men
Wish death 'pon me
Lord I don't cry no more
Don't look to the sky no more
Have mercy on me

Now these pussy niggas putting money on my head
Go on and get your refund motherfucker, I ain't dead
I'm the diamond in the dirt, that ain't been found
I'm the underground king and I ain't been crowned
When I rhyme, somethin' special happen every time
I'm the greatest, somethin' like Ali in his prime
I walk the block with the bundles
I've been knocked on the humble
Swing the ox when I rumble
Show your ass what my gun do
Got a temper nigga, go'head, lose your head
Turn your back on me, get clapped and lose your legs
I walk around gun on my waist, chip on my shoulder
Till I bust a clip in your face, plus, hey, this beef ain't over

Many men, many, many, many, many men
Wish death 'pon me
Lord I don't cry no more
Don't look to the sky no more
Have mercy on me
Have mercy on my soul
Somewhere my heart turned cold
Have mercy on many men
Many, many, many, many men
Wish death 'pon me

Sunny days wouldn't be special, if it wasn't for rain
Joy wouldn't feel so good, if it wasn't for pain
Death gotta be easy, 'cause life is hard
It'll leave you physically, mentally, and emotionally scarred
This if for my niggas on the block, twisting trees and cigars
For the niggas on lock, doing life behind bars
I don't see only god can judge me, 'cause I see things clear
Quick these crackers will give my black ass a hundred years
I'm like Paulie in Goodfellas, you can call me the Don
Like Malcolm by any means, with my gun in my palm
Slim switched sides on me, let niggas ride on me
I thought we was cool, why you want me to die homie?(homie echoes once)

Many men, many, many, many, many men
Wish death 'pon me
Lord I don't cry no more
Don't look to the sky no more
Have mercy on me
Have mercy on my soul
Somewhere my heart turned cold
Have mercy on many men
Many, many, many, many men
Wish death u'on me

Every night I talk to god, but he don't say nothing back
I know he protecting me, but I still stay with my gat
In my nightmares, niggas keep pulling techs on me
Psych says some bitch dumb, put a hex on me
The feds didn't know much, when Pac got shot
I got a kite from the pens that told me, Tuck got knocked
I ain't gonna spell it out for you motherfuckers all the time
Are you illiterate nigga? You can't read between the lines
In the bible it says, what goes around, comes around
Almost shot me, three weeks later he got shot down
Now it's clear that I'm here, for a real reason
'Cause he got hit like I got hit, but he ain't fuckin' breathing

Many men, many, many, many, many men
Wish death 'pon me
Lord I don't cry no more
Don't look to the sky no more
Have mercy on me
Have mercy on my soul
Somewhere my heart turned cold
Have mercy on many men
Many, many, many, many men
Wish death 'pon me
"

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Xzibit : Game face

I don't fuck around I'll break you down in the hours of H
All these L.A times motherfucka's keepin the pace
No need to pull strings things still get done
To have you yellin at the top of yo lungs
So Xzibit never speak wit a false tounge
Slid off like a handgun
Tryin to build an empire to pass to my grandson
I never like to talk business over the phone
So either have love for the game or leave it alone
Plus action speak louder than words
And pussy move faster than birds
So I gotta keep a gameface
On the street you slip, and you might catch a hot one
Xzibit stay low and kick back like a shotgun
I keep it bangin to the end of the line
When a rapper think his saggin style is fuckin with mine, it's divine
Cuz my family is harder than bricks
Anything to keep it movin cuz it's harder to hit

Chorus:
(Ras Kass)
Only right I fuck wit you when you fuckin' wit mine
Keep it movin to the end of the line
And action speak louder than wor-
ds
And pussy move faster than birds
Gotta keep a gameface
(Xzibit)
Only right I fuck wit you when you fuckin' wit mine
Keep it movin to the end of the line
And action speak louder than words
And pussy move faster than birds
Gotta keep a gameface

Verse 2: Ras Kass
Men must be either tramp or the crutch
To regulate, relegate, delegate power, nigga touch something
Trust no one and die dumping
Drained ya battery you barely talking like Teddy Ruxpin
See that's wassup, nigga I don't give a fuck
Say some shit so nasty, it'll make Little Kim blush
As if, a 98 bentley didn't tempt me
To lay bullshit over this empty
But consequently my conscience wouldn't permit me
I'm one-third black man, one-third Jackie Chan
One-third sand, shiftin across the surface of the land
Golden State Warrior let my nuts hang like niggas in nooses
While you givin groupies all your loochie
I'm known for fucking hoochies in suskis
And slippin?
L-
oved and feared, severe yet loved
The full time titan fighting three million over night thugs
So keep your, hand out your rectum 'cause you can't stop shit
Don't rock shit, studio hustlers
claimin' they got more keys than a locksmith
What part of the game is this
Bonus Round, give me the mic, the money
The pussy in that order, the mortar over populated
get fucked and orally copulated
And all you chumps on some you owe me an apology shit
can suck yo apology out my dick

Chorus:

Verse 3:
(Ras Kass)
This is for the black niggas, the yak sippers
The part time strippers,slash full time student,and fifty buck slippers
I got athletes feet,we run these contrete streets
Sporting cleets, ain't nothing sweet
(Xzibit)
I'm making rappers get they shit together
Still smokin, still drinkin, still maintain clear thinkin
Everyday is the weekend, mashin thru in a lincoln
And style so sick, the whole car start stinking

Chorus: