50 Cent - Follow me gangster - cradle 2 the grave sdtk version lyrics

Yeah. Ja, you ready? Drop that Ferrari F 50 style baby (yeah, yeah) I'ma show 'em how I do it (yeah, yeah) G-g-g-g-g G-UNIT! I keep hearin' n***as is happy, the D's come, n***as wit guns When I'm out on bail, ridin' wit' some new ones Big got hit in that pa**enger seat Pac got hit in that pa**enger seat Now I'm ridin' 'round in that pa**enger seat Come near the whip, I'm blastin' my heat It don't take long, for my juvenile delinquent thinkin' to sink in The consequences mean nothin', those semi auto's is bustin' Crack sellin', predicate villain, spit big words but I can't spell 'em Put a shot to your melon, that'll keep you're punk a** from chillin' Then I got that nine and a fo'-fo', that H2 is never full Bullet proof windows and doors, gangsta how 'bout yours Southside tatted on my back My last gun shipment got the whole hood strapped Now all I got is two 380's and a nine n***a you can knock and tell the cops but you're dyin' You're thicker than water Ouch! twizzy wizzy wa You're thicker than water Ouch! twizzy wizzy wa You're thicker than water Ouch! twizzy wizzy wa You can be a Blood or a Crip n***a, you b**h Follow Me I used to chill in the hood, to support the fiends But now I'm eatin' caviar instead of pork and beans I'm in the money green 7-45, with 7 shots in the fo' five Y'all n***as wanna die? I got a love affair, wit' violence and guns So this is for them gangstas, rep' where you from When I got O'd up, my heart turned colder That's why the mac react like a king cobra Now I'm jumpin' out of Rovers, in Gucci loafers Y'all n***as wanna stun? I'll bury you co*kroaches Gimme one year, in this industry I'll buy enough guns to declare war on a small country Still walk around wit' the hammer boss Rope and a cross Hard times'll make a lil' n***a hate Santa Claus Your mountains is high, holdin' in Diana Ross I'm like a 2003 banana Porsche I don't gotta hide s*uts, to get your ties cut They on my dick, 'cause I make groupies set off a fire truck My team in the cutt, packin' middle things I got more foreign shooters than the Sacramento Kings It's 8 cla** karats in the border I poke holes in plastic, to avoid a vaginal disorder I'm a savage on your daughter She ain't in the college dorm Then I guess I'm squirtin' on the cabin that you bought her I'm a heavy weed smoker, so the average is a quarter Brown colored from sh**, he established in the water You got Banks on your jersey, you part of my fan base Just 'cause you pour syrup on sh**, don't make it pancakes