Pt2. & Bump Heads Lyrics

Pt2. & Bump Heads

(feat. G-Unit)


[50 Cent]

I wanna be the reason you smile after you wipe ya tears

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 f**kin' 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 f**k wit me



[Tony Yayo]

G-Unit, I roll wit gorillas

f**k 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 f**kin' 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 f**k wit me



[Lloyd Banks]

I know a lot of niggas want Banks gone

My kind of beef will f**k 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

f**k 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 motherf**ker