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50 cent (Feat Young Buck) – Hold On

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исполнитель 50 cent (Feat Young Buck)

правообладатель Universal Music Group G-Unit Records

длительность 03:59

размер 5.48 MB

битрейт 192 kbps

загружено id9405245

03:59
{*Gunshot*} Yeah niggas, G-Unit in this motherfucker (It's the Unit) Ayo 50, ayo this nigga barely breathing, nigga! [Bridge: 50 Cent] x2 It won't be long 'fore you dead You wanna run your mouth crazy, talk about me Nigga I come for your head And leave your monkey ass laid out in the street I hit your heart you dead I squeeze till the semi run out Niggas who know me good in my hood call me a dumb out I'm the nigga in the hooptie with my hat down low Can't tell that this a hit until the MAC-10 blow I got 32 shots, I ain't got to aim I'll wave this bitch in your direction mayne (Ha-ha) Beams, clips, and grips, it's a sticky situation (Yeah) Adrenaline rush, I squeeze, my heart start pacing Same Glock, same block, same chain, same watch Same six-four drop, same nigga on top Don't blame me if your motherfucking block get hot Because I'm just tryin' to make a livin', nigga stay up outta prison In a position of power In a position where bitch-ass cowards can't fuck with ours And just do me, who he, say he going sue me? Motherfucker I got bread (It won't be long before you dead) If you can Hol' on, nigga, hol' on Seems like an ambulance always takes so long when you're hit It won't be long 'fore you dead When you wired up it ain't no smilin' See all of them wildin', and these niggas is violent Little do you know your time could be expirin' And you know that Reaper comin' when that heater start dumpin' Ain't nobody seen nothin', these niggas is silent From 12th Avenue, all the way to the projects Real niggas, we don't fuck around with the nonsense Murder one shit, that's how it get — motherfucker what? I put the fifth to your head, your white T turn red Nigga now give the bread, I'll fill your ass with lead Put a hole in ya' wig, with the SIG, ya' dig? Shouldn't fuck with the kid — I don't play that shit (Come on) It's all part of the game, man the game ain't fair The trigger gots no heart, nigga my gun don't care The hammer hit that shell, homie you see that flare Your life start to flash, your dead, nigga who cares? (Yeah!) If you can Hol' on, nigga, hol' on Seems like an ambulance always takes so long when you're hit It won't be long 'fore you dead Me and my bitch: We break up, we make up; see Jacob for the stones We kicked up, that's what's up, 'cause I'm out with the chrome You fuck up, you get bucked, Buck'll get ya' Push a knife through your chest, boy I ain't fuckin' with ya' The Unit's my hood, my coke, my weed, my dope My pills, my liquor, my family, my niggas We soldiers, we killers, they know us, they feel us They know we Guerillas, you know who the realest The Unit's my gang, my set, my MAC, my TEC My protection, my family; do you understand me? My knife, my gun, my wife, my son My love, my niggas, my stacks, them figures Buckshots hit his ass from the shotgun blast Black Dickie suit, and a fucking black ski-mask Shoot first, this is how I react, and we act Like it's nothing, Cashville niggas used to that Listen If you can Hol' on, nigga, hol' on Seems like an ambulance always takes so long when you're hit It won't be long 'fore you dead
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