[Lloyd Banks] Man we gotta go get something to eat man I'm hungry as a motherfucker
[50 Cent] Ay yo man, damn what's taking homie so long son?
[Lloyd Banks] 50, calm down, here he come
[9 Shots]
[Banks and 50] Ahh, ohh, what the fuck!?
[50 Cent] Ahh! son, pull up! pull up!
[Intro: 50 Cent - singing] Many men, wish death upon me Blood in my eye dawg and I can't see I'm trying to be what I'm destined to be And niggaz trying to take my life away I put a hole in nigga for fucking with me My back on the wall, now you gon' see Better watch how you talk, when you talk about me Cause I'll come and take your life away
Many men, many, many, many, many men Wish death upon me Lord I don't cry no more Don't look to the sky no more Have mercy on me
[Verse One] Now these pussy niggaz putting money on my head Go on and get your refund motherfucker, I ain't dead I'm the diamond in the dirt, that ain't been found I'm the underground king and I ain't been crowned When I rhyme, something special happen every time I'm the greatest, something like Ali in his prime I walk the block with the bundles I've been knocked on the humble Swing the ox when I rumble Show your ass what my gun do Got a temper nigga, go'head, lose your head Turn your back on me, get clapped and lose your legs I walk around gun on waist, chip on my shoulder Till I bust a clip in your face, pussy, this beef ain't over
[Chorus - singing] Many men, many, many, many, many men Wish death upon me Lord I don't cry no more Don't look to the sky no more Have mercy on me Have mercy on my soul Somewhere my heart turned cold Have mercy on many men Many, many, many, many men Wish death upon me
[Verse Two] Sunny days wouldn't be special, if it wasn't for rain Joy wouldn't feel so good, if it wasn't for pain Death gotta be easy, 'cause life is hard It'll leave you physically, mentally, and emotionally scarred This if for my niggaz on the block, twisting trees and cigars For the niggaz on lock, doing life behind bars I don't see only god can judge me, 'cause I see things clear Quick these crackers will give my black ass a hundred years I'm like Paulie in Goodfellas, you can call me the Don Like Malcolm by any means, with my gun in my palm Slim switched sides on me, let niggaz ride on me I thought we was cool, why you want me to die homie?
[Chorus]
[Verse Three] Every night I talk to god, but he don't say nothing back I know he protecting me, but I still stay with my gat In my nightmares, niggaz keep pulling techs on me Psych says some bitch dumb, put a hex on me The feds didn't know much, when Pac got shot I got a kite from the pens that told me, Tuck got knocked I ain't gonna spell it out for you motherfuckers all the time Are you illiterate nigga? You can't read between the lines In the bible it says, what goes around, comes around Almost shot me, three weeks later he got shot down Now it's clear that I'm here, for a real reason 'Cause he got hit like I got hit, but he ain't fucking breathing
[Chorus]
Confirmação de Idade
Esta letra possui restrição de idade, você deve ter mais que 18 anos para acessá-la.
Compositores: Curtis James Jackson (50 Cent) (ASCAP), Darrell Branch (Digga) (SESAC), Frederick James Perren (Perren Freddie) (ASCAP), Keni St. Lewis (Keni Saint Lewis) (BMI), Keni St. Lewis (Saint Lewis Keni) (BMI), Luis Edgardo Resto (ASCAP)Editores: Fifty Cent Music (ASCAP), Bull Pen Music Company (BMI), Figga Six Music (BMI), Kobalt Music Copyrights Sarl, Perren-vibes Music Co (ASCAP), Resto World Music (ASCAP), 810 Publishing Inc (ASCAP), Songs Of Polygram International Inc (BMI)Publicado em 2003ECAD verificado obra #13014511 e fonograma #13319032 em 13/Abr/2024 com dados da UBEM