8 More Miles lyrics - G-Unit

[50 Cent:]

Yeah. 50 Cent. Lloyd Banks. Tony Yayo. G-Unit

[Lloyd Banks:]

This rap shit plays a major part in my life

So if you jeopardize it I got the right

To send a mothafucker at you tonight

G-Unit

And I ain't stopping till my clique popping, swimming in barrels of money

Ma could walk around with her head up cause it [?] you, dummy

It's funny, niggas'd rather see you suffering and hungry

I'm comfy as hell skating with another nigga's money

You lying your ass off, you know you ain't that tough

I'm pulling your mask off as soon as you act up

You know what I came for, a piece of the game, boy

Artillery that's about as long as a chainsaw

By the way, man, this feels like I've been dreamin'

Forty cal. under my pillow, condom feeling my semen

The physical presence of a female in he forms of a demon

That's why I fuck 'em and leave 'em, get my nut while I'm breathin'

Cause they thought they'd catch me slipping, now I'm ducking and driven

That's a thousand dollar outfit, what the fuck is you rippin'?

You tripping, no record could get my ass in position

Death waits for no religion whether Catholic or Christian

Listen, I went through mama bitching in and out the kitchen

With probable cause, it's probably sending out to prison

You got soldiers, but you still gotta respect ours

We got more four five's and nines than a deck of cards

[Tony Yayo:]

You can take me out the hood

But can't take the hood out me (cause what?)

Cause I'm ghetto, I'm ghetto

Niggas hate when you do good

But when you broke

Your friends and your enemies they love you, they love you

"Cheche, get the Yayo"

Picture me being crack, out of town, trips on the trail

"Cheche, get the Yayo"

Picture me being crack (Tony Yayo!)

You can sniff me, cut me, I'll turn you to a junkie

I'm the number one seller in the whole fucking country

Wall Street niggas, they cop me on the low

White boys don't call me coke, they call me blow

It's time to go, on the bus, the train, the plane

I'll smuggle, I'm nothing but trouble

I'll make your money double, cook me in baking soda

I'll turn your Hooprock into a new Range Rover

I'll pay all your bills and fill your 'frigerator

Feed your family, turn your man to a hater

Put me in your doorpanels or your stashbox

Put me in your Nikes, Timbs or Reeboks

If you cop three and a half you hustling backwards

Cop a hundred grams, you moving forwards

You trying to move more birds

N PA all day, on the corner of Third, nigga what?

[50 Cent:]

You can take me out the hood

But can't take the 'hood out me (what?)

Cause I'm ghetto, I'm ghetto

Picture me polishing pistols, I'm coming to get you

The shells hit you, you screamin'

Think I'm playing? I mean it

Man, I done bought all these pistols, let's get it popping

Start wavin' my emboies, shell cases get to dropping

If death is around the corner I got too much pride to hide

I'm outside, gun in my pocket, just stunting, no stopping

I'm dying to pop it, I'm young and I'm restless

You know my contestants

As the world turns, there's lessons to be learned

Count all my blessings, clean up my weapons

I'm ready for war, the strong survive, the weak shall perish

I told you before

Hoes, they compliment me now like, "50, nice chain"

Bellagio, twenty grand of chips at a dice game

Burn out, can't stop, gotta watch MTV, BET

Nigga, you see me

I wonder if you mad cause I'm doing good

Or 'cause niggas feeling me more than you in your own hood

And it hurts 'cause you love 'em and they don't love you back

Cause they know you just rapping and you don't bust a gat

You pussy

Yeah, explain it to the niggas in your hood, nigga. They know you fucking fronting, nigga. Talking like gangstas on a record. I see you, nigga. Niggas know me, nigga. Ask around in my hood, nigga. Read the Daily News, nigga. You see them talking about me, nigga. I'm in the middle of all kinds of shit. Pussy, let's get it popping