You can be a ridah and ride, or a coward and hide Either way you go against me, you still gon die I got four macs, a few nines, I’m ready for beef You wanna talk, it ain’t about money, then let it be brief I need a drop for when it’s a hot, a hummer for when it’s cold An ill attorney’s in my corner when these fake niggas fold The shit I kick fuck with niggas mentally, makes them wanna mention me And see me doing a quarter century in the penitentiary Nastradamus predicted 50’s the future, that’s a fact money I run up on your workers with the mac, like where that pack money I’m a tell ya’ll what Papi told me I got what you need, 19,5 a key I stay catching a stunt, frontin’ in somethin’ mean And I’ll clap any nigga for the right amount of cream Run up on them all with the same problem solver Beat up ass, tape on the handle, trey eight revolver. What! Projects too hot, niggas better hope we never hit rock Cause then we gonna run up in your spot Screamin’ get the fuck on the floor, give us the Ro’ Projects too hot, niggas better hope we never hit rock Cause then we gonna run up in your spot Screamin’ get the fuck on the floor, give us the Ro’ Aiyyo, aiyyo, aiyyo, aiyyo I’m like Sugar Shane Mosley, it ain’t no beef You’re staring, a ticket holder that sits in row three Next to Ron Artest and Kobe Yo I woulda went pro too, then I let them phillies slow me I’m like a black man’s asthma, seeking a pump Breathin’ deeper when I’m creeping up Ya’ll need to fuck with the tightest, I stick niggas Ensevilitus, leavin’ whole families in silence My virus is obvious, past on to most rap fiends Un cured, ain’t no vaccine Last seen at the automatic teller machine, maxing out Or in the studio booth, blacking out It’s Con Ed style, real twisted, I disappear on some Blair Witch shit Comin’ back I’m rich kid Either or, you can’t stop me with my feet in the door Or walk away from the street or the morgue, play your part nigga. Projects too hot, niggas better hope we never hit rock Cause then we gonna run up in your spot Screamin’ get the fuck on the floor, give us the Ro’ Projects too hot, niggas better hope we never hit rock Cause then we gonna run up in your spot Screamin’ get the fuck on the floor, give us the Ro’ I disturb niggas and white boys, with five pointed stars Tatted on they arms, pimp your moms, like I’m Magic Don Juan From Queens to Hong Kong, weed in the bong We smoke that, leave our minks on the coat rack Those that plot on me, nine times outta ten the nine is on me Feds search the God, but nothin’ they find on me When I rap don’t wait to clap applaud sooner Unless you hate a nigga like George Bush Jr., I bring awkward to you Porsche maneuvers thru the city like New York sewers Stinkin’ up the air, Central Park, horse manure Rims is 22 inches, Benz suspensions 22 inch dick when I’m pimpin’ Impotent you niggas get me sick, wanna be soundin’ like You knowin’ my arithmetic, but we don’t sound alike 50 Cent with Braveheart-ed, we ride to the grave depart us You fake niggas imitate what I started, let’s go
时间标记歌词
[ti:Too Hot ft. Nas and Nature] [ar:50 Cent] [00:22.23]You can be a ridah and ride, or a coward and hide [00:24.64]Either way you go against me, you still gon die [00:27.59]I got four macs, a few nines, I’m ready for beef [00:29.08]You wanna talk, it ain’t about money, then let it be brief [00:32.17]I need a drop for when it’s a hot, a hummer for when it’s cold [00:34.53]An ill attorney’s in my corner when these fake niggas fold [00:37.05]The shit I kick fuck with niggas mentally, [00:39.34]makes them wanna mention me [00:41.25]And see me doing a quarter century in the penitentiary [00:43.62]Nastradamus predicted 50’s the future, that’s a fact money [00:46.05]I run up on your workers with the mac, like where that pack money [00:49.03]I’m a tell ya’ll what Papi told me [00:49.94]I got what you need, 19,5 a key [00:52.24]I stay catching a stunt, frontin’ in somethin’ mean [00:54.93]And I’ll clap any nigga for the right amount of cream [00:57.26]Run up on them all with the same problem solver [00:59.86]Beat up ass, tape on the handle, trey eight revolver. What! [02:13.17] [02:04.15] [01:12.50] [01:02.59]Projects too hot, niggas better hope we never hit rock [02:17.17] [02:07.34] [01:16.22] [01:06.39]Cause then we gonna run up in your spot [02:20.52] [02:10.24] [01:19.63] [01:09.18]Screamin’ get the fuck on the floor, give us the Ro’ [01:22.62]Aiyyo, aiyyo, aiyyo, aiyyo [01:23.92]I’m like Sugar Shane Mosley, it ain’t no beef [01:25.56]You’re staring, a ticket holder that sits in row three [01:28.19]Next to Ron Artest and Kobe [01:30.24]Yo I woulda went pro too, then I let them phillies slow me [01:33.17]I’m like a black man’s asthma, seeking a pump [01:35.75]Breathin’ deeper when I’m creeping up [01:37.64]Ya’ll need to fuck with the tightest, I stick niggas [01:40.11]Ensevilitus, leavin’ whole families in silence [01:42.81]My virus is obvious, past on to most rap fiends [01:45.93]Un cured, ain’t no vaccine [01:48.09]Last seen at the automatic teller machine, maxing out [01:51.00]Or in the studio booth, blacking out [01:53.13]It’s Con Ed style, real twisted, [01:55.68]I disappear on some Blair Witch shit [01:57.21]Comin’ back I’m rich kid [01:58.72]Either or, you can’t stop me with my feet in the door [02:01.14]Or walk away from the street or the morgue, play your part nigga. [02:23.92]I disturb niggas and white boys, with five pointed stars [02:26.78]Tatted on they arms, pimp your moms, like I’m Magic Don Juan [02:29.40]From Queens to Hong Kong, weed in the bong [02:31.86]We smoke that, leave our minks on the coat rack [02:34.08]Those that plot on me, nine times outta ten the nine is on me [02:36.86]Feds search the God, but nothin’ they find on me [02:39.42]When I rap don’t wait to clap applaud sooner [02:41.86]Unless you hate a nigga like George Bush Jr., I bring awkward to you [02:43.85]Porsche maneuvers thru the city like New York sewers [02:47.34]Stinkin’ up the air, Central Park, horse manure [02:50.41]Rims is 22 inches, Benz suspensions [02:52.46]22 inch dick when I’m pimpin’ [02:54.90]Impotent you niggas get me sick, wanna be soundin’ like [02:57.88]You knowin’ my arithmetic, but we don’t sound alike [03:00.41]50 Cent with Braveheart-ed, we ride to the grave depart us [03:03.58]You fake niggas imitate what I started, let’s go [03:06.44]