50 Cent - 187 Yayo lyrics

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50 Cent - 187 Yayo lyrics

{*set to Dr. Dre & Snoop's "Deep Cover" instrumental*} [50 Cent] G-G-G-G-G-G-Unit! 50 Cent n***a, Tony Yayo (yeah) {WHOOOOOO... KID} [Hook: repeat 2X] Yeah! And you don't stop I do a 187 on your motherf**in block Yeah! And it don't quit It's G-Unit in your motherf**in a** b**h~! [Tony Yayo] They say good things should happen to those who wait But I'm stuck in the game still slingin weight For that eggshell white, that tan and the brown For a XL-6 or a seven four pound Suede seats is hot but Italian leather is better And with cameras in the mirror, n***a cars costs cheddar I'm on first cla** flights, with flyin cooks Cause my verse sound nice when they fly in hooks Now I'm blowin weed yo, in Beverly Hills With some bad freak hoes in the Montreal Next year it's the new Hummer, stash box with the llama I drive through in the blue data bomber Heaven or hell'll prevail when I'm a goner Cause I eat up tracks, like Hannibal and Dahmer I'm the first one out, and last one on the corner Cause life is a hustle, any day you be a goner P89 Ruger with the silencer Let off a clip it sound like spitballs goin through straws We got, plenty of ratchets but not on sale We even got villagers that hold shotgun shells These rappers is talkin 'bout bricks in they rhymes You never did sh** but some Mickey Mouse crimes I don't respect it, my work is never watered down So on the first I get mo' checks than Nike Town Sling in thirty-one hundreds, I been on the block Since n***as did the snake, running man and the wop When I was 15, I ain't want no workin papers I played the strip all night, servin n***as Listen n***a, we live like Italians in jail I got C.O.'s bringin cell phones to my cell Get rich in the game, n***as out to get you Fill your a** up with led turn yo' a** to a pencil I jumped out with the Ruger rapid-fire I had you on the run like Omar on "The Wire" I'm the only rapper you know that stay on the run I'm the only rapper you know that stay with a gun I'm a hustler, O.G.'s love to hate Cause I got old school money put away in the safe You can catch me in the hood where that dope and coke at Or you can catch me in cali in the Hollywood throwback I'm a bail jumper, you know them fish scale pumper f** Judge Wong, he won't catch me on the corner n***a pay poor tax, homey you owe me You wanna rap we can battle for your see through Roley I be in M mansion, strippin them models His bathroom's so far you gotta piss in a bottle There's too many indians and not enough chiefs Why you buy all the guns if you ain't got enough beef The sh** I spit'll cause an all out riot And my new four-fifth'll cause a hollow-tip diet I'm the type to tie up your lady, and gun bu*t your baby I'm like the mob n***a, f** you pay me~! I'mma hide my a**ets, and disappear Make a quick twenty mill' and vanish in thin air I've finished my work now its time to cop And meet that Chinese lady at the baggage spot I need twelve 12's, and fifty-eight 58's Cause I got eight sales and they all gon' wait motherf**er! [Hook] YEAH! {Ha ha... WHOOOOO KID!!}