Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
50 Cent
50 Cent
Vocals
Gladys Knight & The Pips
Gladys Knight & The Pips
Sampled Artist
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Christopher Ruelas
Christopher Ruelas
Songwriter
Clay McMurray
Clay McMurray
Songwriter
Curtis James Jackson
Curtis James Jackson
Songwriter
Gloria R Jones
Gloria R Jones
Songwriter
Pam Sawyer
Pam Sawyer
Songwriter
Qris Hysaw
Qris Hysaw
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Kyeme Miller
Kyeme Miller
Recording Engineer
Nascent
Nascent
Producer
QB Da Problem
QB Da Problem
Producer
Samuel Kalandijian
Samuel Kalandijian
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Steve Baughman
Steve Baughman
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
I do more than talk that
I motherfucking walk that
Blue Yankee cap back
Fuck around, get clapped at
I sleep with the stainless, I walk with the stainless
Man, everybody know about 50, I'm famous
New York, New York, I run New York
Ask Dread at the weed spot, I come through in a mean drop
[Verse 2]
In different boroughs, I have different moments
On different days, **** know how I'm on it
I'm pretty like a Harlem ****
I'm a shooter like a Brooklyn ****
I'm a hustler, don't get no bigger
Queens, Southside till they bury me
BX, two TECs, flames out the nozzles
R1 one wheel, Christian Dior goggles
Spar with me, start some shit, send the shooters out
Come out the club, we out front with the Ruger's out
Nah, ain't no sense in talkin' peace, my brother
That beef'll probably seen your monkey ass to see Allah
[Verse 3]
These **** ain't strong enough
They money ain't long enough
When they bump heads with me
They find out the guns do bust
We gettin' paper, in God we trust
These sucker ass ****
[Verse 4]
These **** ain't strong enough
They money ain't long enough
When they bump heads with me
They find out the guns do bust
We gettin' paper, in God we trust
Suck on this, ****
[Verse 5]
When I said I'll kill ya, I'll kill ya, as a kid, I wasn't kidding then
Special ED kid in the back on Ritalin
Crib all fucked up, hooptie all fucked up
Pockets all fucked up, now, ****, what's up?
I'm rich now, **** know about my dividends
Look in the Robb report, check out what I'm livin' in
Fuck a spot now, I'm 'bout to buy a yacht now
Crib the size of a New York City block now
[Verse 6]
Okay, okay, try me and get shot down
I'm like a zebra, I got so many stripes
I'm the fuckin' general, I run my clique right
It was five of us, all of us millionaires
Now one's a fuckin' junkie and one's a fuckin' queer
Now it's three of us, that's the way we started
They call me crazy, cold blooded and black hearted
I don't play no games, **** beg for mercy
Then we TOS, put that ass to rest
[Verse 7]
These **** ain't strong enough
They money ain't long enough
When they bump heads with me
They find out the guns do bust
We gettin' paper, in God we trust
These sucker ass ****
[Verse 8]
These **** ain't strong enough
They money ain't long enough
When they bump heads with me
They find out the guns do bust
We gettin' paper, in God we trust
Suck on this, ****
Written by: 50 Cent, Clay McMurray, Gloria Jones, Nascent, Pam Sawyer, Q. Hysaw
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