Reginald "Regg" Smith - I Don't Wanna Talk About It lyrics

[50 Cent] I don't wan' talk about it (50) Man I don't wanna talk about it (nah) Man I don't wan' talk about it (yeah) And I don't wanna talk about it (wooo-oooh!) [Hook: 50 Cent] I make millions quick and I don't wan' talk about it Nah I don't wanna talk about it I shoot a n***a kid and I don't wan' talk about it Nah I don't wanna talk about it I f** the baddest b**hes, I don't wan' talk about it Nah I don't wanna talk about it I'm still flippin chickens, I don't wan' talk about it Nah I don't wanna talk about it [50 Cent] These n***as police Go 'head, ask me what I'm ridin in so I can say the Enzo My b**h roll down the window so I could feel the wind blow Got big enough for me to fiddle on my kinfolk b**hes with me cruisin, Moulin Rouge and They f**in and they strippin n***a, I ain't even trippin n***a Me I handle business; God's my only witness Watchin homicide, sayin "Who the f** did this?" Me I run the street mayne, so I keep the heat mayne Sews what you reap, when you f** with the elite mayne I don't f** around boy; you better ask around boy I hit you with the pound, leave yo' a** on the ground For, you poppin that bullsh**, like I don't pull sh** Fully loaded clips and whips, get the grip, clip the bricks n***a we hittin licks, stickin sh**, gettin rich That's why my name ring bells all around this b**h Any hood you go through they know 50 Cent (wooo-oooh!) And I don't wanna talk about it (OHH!) [Hook] [Tony Yayo] Yeah, it's the kid n***a, yeah Aiyyo, big money, my car got the big face (yeah!) Forty-five, my belt got the big eights n***as hate but I'm low seven star Caesar For grimy n***as tryin to line me like {?} preacher You n***as got the nerve, I'm at Johannesburg With Mandela nephew blowin heavy herb Then back to the projects, low from the task force The dope spot's sellin more sh** than Scott Storch I'm tired of these pricks, lyin 'bout bricks Got my can and my white, my tan like Mariah and Nick Fly in the '60 U.F.O Unidentified flyin object on twenty-fo's More money more hoes, more money more clothes Smoke that AK-48, not bullsh** 'dro (yeah) I rock big arenas, not bullsh** shows And my pants three thousand, these ain't bullsh** clothes (OHH!) [Hook] [Lloyd Banks] Nah, uhh B-A, N-K, S-5, 5-oh Or 6-8, M-G, tinted with my eyes low Homie I'm a Tahoe, fully loaded nine blow You see out on hydro, Luciano blind ho Loiue V offended me, {?} in my Bentley C And weekends are the chills, I'mma f** her 'til she empty Empty on you if you front, 'til your pa**enger is stuck Give your a** a brand new scar, in need of a brand new car I ain't them I'm different baby, I talk, you listen baby Listen and I'll show you, how money controls you I'll put you in my old school, and let you pop the switch Pocketful in every packet, that's why I'm poppin sh** I don't forgive I don't forget, what you said, where you flip When you get hit, I hope that's it, pop-pop, all on your whip I-I, be on that sh**, I'm high, I'm on that piff Bye-bye, you f**in b**h, you ain't hot, you ain't rich You a snitch! [Hook]