50 Cent Feat G-unit Pt2 And Bump Heads Lyrics

Pt2 And Bump Heads Lyrics

50 Cent feat. G-Unit

 

 PT2. & Bump Heads

 The reason you have the courage to confront ya fears

 The reason there's two karats in each of ya ears

 I splurge with the paper ma, I don't care

 How you like it, pumps or boots, jeeps or coops

 Minks or leathers, fifty fall off never

 Whats mine is yours and whats yours is mine

 So when I shine, you shine

 The finest champagne, we can toast to life

 Crap table in Vegas, you can toss the dice

 Don't let ya fears let you confuse sayin' "fifty's bad news"

 I need you in my life girl, your too much to lose

 

 [Beat switches]

 

 [Hook]

 Nigga, you won't deny that I'ma fuckin' ride out

 Then you'll bump heads wit me

 I'll put a hole in yo ass, you'll see

 That it ain't cool to fuck wit me

 

 [Tony Yayo]

 G-Unit, I roll wit gorillas

 Fuck a big body guard, I hang wit pint size killas

 I ain't tryin' to be dirty, still on the strip

 I'm tryin' to be dirty, filthy rich

 Give a nigga too much rope, he think he a cowboy

 Give Tony too much dope, I'm pushin' the big boy

 V12, SL detailed

 I rap and wait for them checks in the mail

 If you hatin', your due time life will expire

 Cause my guns speak jamaican, they be like "Bloodfire!"

 Where I'm from, niggas be on some sleak shit

 They hungry, use they lighters to cook their beef stick

 And this 'dro and this nestle got me right

 So my lungs be as black as Wesley Snipes

 I'm on first class flights heading towards Vegas

 Ya slot machines niggas, we crap table players

 I roll a seven, cause we crap table players

 

 [Hook]

 Nigga, you won't deny that I'ma fuckin' ride out

 Then you'll bump heads wit me

 I'll put a hole in yo ass, you'll see

 That it ain't cool to fuck wit me

 

 [Lloyd Banks]

 I know a lot of niggas want Banks gone

 My kind of beef will fuck up ya grill and not the kind you put franks on

 I'm hidin' out, so my meals is home cooked

 I deal wit more ho's than a chinese phone book

 Your high with your messed up ratchets

 I'm out blowin' haze bags the size of ketchup packets

 Fuck who's in ya ride, there's tools on my side

 By the females standin' with tattoos on they thighs

 There's a lot of cats losin' they wives

 Cause next time I see 'em, they got black and blues on they eyes

 Nah, I ain't ready to die, but I'm prepared

 But I'd rather grow old with grey hairs in my beard

 They know me in the field, the kid with the fans

 That argue over my balls like Kobe and Shaquille

 If you talkin' bout millions throw me in the deal

 Big city, stadium tour, ruining the bill motherfucker