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| G-Unit Beg For Mercy G-Unit [50 Cent] Yeah! 50 Cent, Lloyd Banks, Young Buck G-g-g-g-g-Unit! Hahahah [Verse 1 - Young Buck] Vacate ya home, I come to break ya bones America's nightmare (yeah!), we at it again (c'mon) A Desert Eagle and a black mac-10 They'll never know what ha-penned When we come through, them cowards don't want none They screamin that they murderers but walkin with no guns C'mere nigga, don't run and die where you standin See I'm holdin on this cannon and your life I'm demandin Put the pipes at your melon and brain's on the pavement These niggaz is talkin, thinkin security gon' save them Ain't no-body gonna speak when homicide pay a visit Look you right in the eye and tell you "We don't know who did it" Corrupting my street corner by shootin' at the police The fiend's up all night, and the neighbors gettin no sleep You better get used to it, you know how we do it Shady/Aftermath, Interscope and G-Unit [Chorus] *sung* {50 Cent} We got action where you don't Show up places where you won't G-Unit! G-Unit! {G-g-g-g-g-Unit!} (Geeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-Uuuu-oooo-Nit!) [Verse 2 - 50 Cent] Now I told y'all on my first Dre joint - I am lo=co Better than so-so, game's in the chokehold Dissin me's a no-no, I perfected the slow flow In D.C. they dance the go-go, in LA they ride on lo-lo's G-Unit in the house, oh no You ain't ready, it's heavy, '65 Chevy Old-school rollin, I'm holdin Twenty inches spinnin from the beginnin, we winnin Gained this masculinity pimpin we not pretendin Drop-top, glock cocked, ready for the drama Pistols pop, cop shot, I'm heavy with them llamas Non-stop, make it hot, we on top regardless You can be the hardest, we'll just be the smartest I warn you not to start us, we not your average artists My bitch is like a Goddess, when paparazzi spot us It's flick after flick, same old shit that I kick Hah hah! [Chorus] [verse 3 - Lloyd Banks] Guess who's back motherfucker - gun and a clip Ready to smack up on these suckers that's runnin they lip You can try any one of my shoes on - none of 'em fit Ya hundreds is shorter, I tell ya pops his son is a daughter All I need is some cigars and a quarter A couple cars and a lawyer Comin packin a bitch, and I'll be back with a hit I'm that sick, who the hell you thought it was? I got expensive habits, I can afford it cuz G-Unit's poppin and we perform in all the clubs Niggaz be shovin and pushin now someone is gushin surprise She's givin up the buns on the cushion, Sweatin and screamin Suckin' me off the rest of the evenin and I'm leavin On to the next city Stash box in the bus so I can bring them tecs with me I gotta focus, I'm gettin older You niggas ain't gettin over G-Unit! [Chorus] High-tech, niggaz |
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