G-unit 187 Ya Yo Lyrics

187 Ya Yo Lyrics

50 CENT:



G G G G G-Unit. 50 Cent nigga Tony Yayo (yeah)



(Drop That Shit)



Yeah and it don’t stop, 

I do a 187 on yo’ motherfuckin block 

Yeah and it don’t quit,

It’s G-Unit in yo’ motherfuckin’ ass bitch



Yeah and it don’t stop, 

I do a 187 on yo’ motherfuckin block 

Yeah and it don’t quit,

It’s G-Unit in yo’ motherfuckin’ ass bitch



TONY YAYO:



They say good things will happen to those who wait

Shorty stuck in the game still slingin’ weight

None of that’s yo’ life that ten in the brown

For XL six or seven fo’ pound



Suede seats is hot but Italian leather is better

And with camera’s in the mirror nigga cars costs cheddar

I’m on first class flights with flying cooks

Cuz my verse sound nice when they flyin’ hooks



Now im blowin’ weed-o in Beverly Hills

Some bad free hoes in the Montreal

Next year it’s the new Hummer

Stash box with the llama drive through in the blue data bomba



Heaven or Hell will prevail when I’m a goner

Cuz I Eat up tracks Like Hannibal and Dahma

I’m the first one out, and last one on the corner

This life is a hustle any day you be a goner



P89 Ruger with the silence off

Little clipper sellin’ spitballs goin’ through straws

We got plenty of rap sheets but not on sale

We even got dillingers that hold shotgun shells



These rappers is talkin’ ‘bout bricks in they rhymes

You never did shit but some Mickey Mouse crimes

I don’t respect it my work is never watered down

So on the first I get more checks than Nike town



Swingin’ 31 Money’s  I been on the block

Since nigga’s did the snake runnin’ man in the walk

When I was 15 I didn’t want no workin papers

I worked the strip all night, servin’ niggers



Listen nigga, We live like Italians in jail

I got CO’s bringin’ cell phones to my cell

Get rich in the game, niggas out to get you

Fill you ass up with led turn yo’ ass to a pencil



I jumped out with the Ruger rapid fire

I had you on the run like Omar on the wire

I’m the only rapper you know that stay on the run

I’m the only rapper you know that stay with a gun



I’m a hustla’ OG’s love to hate

Cuz I got old school money put away in a safe

You can catch me in the hood where that dope and coke at

Or you can catch me in cali in the Hollywood throwback



I’m a bail jumper, you know them fish scale pumper

Fuck judge wong he gon’ catch me on the corner

Nigga make poor attacks, homie ya owe me

You wanna rap we can battle for yo’ see through rollie



I begin in a mansion stripin’ the models

The bathroom’s so far you gotta piss in a bottle

There’s too many Indians and not enough chiefs

Why you buy all the gun’s if you ain’t got enough beef





The shit I spit will cause an all out riot

In my new 4 fifth will cause a hollow tip die

Im the type to tie up your lady, gun butt your baby

Im like the mob nigga fuck you pay me



Im’a hide my assets, and disappear

Make a quick 20 mil and vanish in thin air

I’ve finished my work now its time to cop

And meet that Chinese lady at the baggage spot



I Need 12 12’s 

And 58 58’s

Cuz I got 8 sales

And they all gon’ wait motherfucka

50 CENT:



Yeah and it don’t stop, 

I do a 187 on yo’ motherfuckin block 

Yeah and it don’t quit,

It’s G-Unit in yo’ motherfuckin’ ass bitch



Yeah and it don’t stop, 

I do a 187 on yo’ motherfuckin block 

Yeah and it don’t quit,

It’s G-Unit in yo’ motherfuckin’ ass bitch