[Intro]
[Verse 1: 50 Cent]
Ayo I switch my hustle, no more dice games, dilemmas
You see blood in the snow after the shots in December
n******gs is broke, that's why they stay ice-grillin'
I'm in the Aspens, laughing, snowmobilin'
With a beautiful b**h, she's chocolate, athletic
Ass poke out like Serena, ask Banks, he's seen her
Plus she's hood - she ain't Hollywood, remind me of Trina
D's come, shorty even down to hold out a nina
G stands for gangster; You stands for you n******gs in trouble
Better lock and load on the double
G-UNIT!
[Hook: 50 Cent]
I'm so sorry
n******gs all f**ed up they ain't getting money in the hood
I'm so sorry
I lied to you, say I let you hold something homie, if I could
I'm so sorry
{I can't help you out n***a, nah, I could, but I don't want to help you out}
I'm so, I'm so sorry
[Verse 2: The Game]
I'm in that '67 gla**house
In and out of lanes
Murder on my mind
Old English running through my veins
I think about Eazy and to ease my pain, I drink a 40oz
G-Unit soaking in the rain
I came into this world both feet in the dirt
No purple label, no bu*ton-up shirts
No harm intended, no subliminal disses
But hard facts separate the men from the b**hes
I would of popped your a** if I thought you was worthy
Looking like Boy George in that Larry Bird jersey
Buck pa** the dutch, I'm blowing that Bob Marley
Hop off the G-4, lets have a Boston tech party
G-UNIT!
[Hook: 50 Cent]
I'm so sorry
You n******gs don't sound that good when you step in the booth
I'm so sorry
n***a that it hurts but goddamnit you know it's the truth
I'm so sorry
That seeing me do good is making your punk-a** sick
I'm so sorry
That I ain't got room for all you n******gs on my dick
I'm so sorry
[Verse 3: Lloyd Banks]
A snap of a finger, make your guys cripple
I came up with this on the sh**ter, n***a
I handle bars like a bicycle
Scars make your eyes trickle
As stiff as a icicle
The mufflers silence the Lamb, that's why I whistle
Fire your stylists, you know that's wrong
For letting you put that Foot Locker noback on
Around here, n******gs get shot for performing that song
The hoes cut their eyebrows off and draw them back on
They're trying to merk me yo, that's why 50 bought me a Trey Pound with a nose longer than Pinocchio
Pop sh**, I'll stroke your s*ut
And as soon as her mouth open up, what? Same colour as Coconut!
[Hook: 50 Cent]
I'm so sorry
You ain't from Compton, you ain't got a flow like Game
I'm so sorry
You ain't Lloyd Banks, mixtape artist of the year man
I'm so sorry
You ain't Young Buck, you don't let the gun buck, son you bu*t
I'm so sorry
You get out of line, I'll personally f** you up
I'm so sorry
[Verse 4: Young Buck]
We don't chase no hoes
You dream about it while we're making dough
I'll have a hundred f**ing Haitians come and cut your throat
I still touch the dope
n***a, my ears to the street
I got some n******gs from your own hood working for me
You've got your hand out, can't even bail your man out
Real know real, Because the b**h n******gs stand out
Nobody gon' miss you when the Desert Eagle hit you
Just do like Pac said, pour out a little liquor
Picture getting your chest blown open and no one there to save you
Your momma got to wake up making funeral arrangements
You know who to play with, and we ain't the ones
This G-Unit sh** is deeper than prick in your thumb
Motherf**er...
[Outro]