[50 Cent] 
Yo, yo we can't stay alive forever 
So if shit hit the fan then we might as well die together 
I'm high as ever, more holes and more cheddar 
G-Unit move around wit them pounds and berreta's 
Yea faggot, if I want it I'm gon' have it 
Regardless if it's handed to me or I gotta grab it 
Don't make a ass outta yaself tryin to stop me 
I'm cocky, raps rocky, nigga you sloppy 
You know that I'm, 8 levels above you nigga 
I'll club you nigga, I never heard of you nigga, ugly nigga 
I'm the wrong one to provoke 
You rattin on niggas is only gon' leave you smoke 
So the only thing left now is tools for these cowrads 
I got no friends, fuck most of these cowards 
They pop shit 'till we start approaching these cowards 
While we lay around dollars, they lay around flowers 

[Lloyd Banks] 
I got a intergangstress who argue and steams wit reefer 
And who flip when I call a bitch like she Queen Latifah 
Not all the vehicle's is long enough to stash the streetsweeper 
This shit can get uglier than the Master P sneaker 
We slidin through the ruckus, wit prada on the chuckus 
Soon as spring break ho's home from college wanna fuck us 
I ain't here to drop knowledge on you suckas 
I'll sick rottweiler's on you fuckas, cops followin to cuff us 
Top dollars to discuss this, whole lotta zeros 
When it comes to paper I blow a soul outta aero 
I'ma break before I lay floor berry 
Besides, every rapper ain't a star, nigga plad ain't bulbary 
You can't tame Lloyd, smokin by the big screen 
You changin the channel looks like I'm playin the game boy 
I know to watch botherin ya vision 
You reach and I'll put a dot on ya head like its part of yo religion 
Why party wit a pigeon? 
I'm blowin a 10 cuz Bush handin flyers for a party in a prison 
I'm in the gucci vest wit the green and red straps 
I'm the last rapper to scare niggas since Craig Mack 
Now every morning's a fast start 
And there aint problem gettin dressed cuz my closet got more aisles than pathmark 
Run, move startin a wave 
and leave wit 12 shells in ya mouth like a carton of eggs 
I'm the young pimp pardon my age 
I don't got long hair but if I did she be puttin my braids 
Niggas find what club they at 
take 'em wit us, and run a train on 'em like a subway mac 
get advances from grey agra 
see these record labels got most artists gettin fucked like the gay rappa' 
i go the college on the tour 
I'm goin down in history nigga, next to Wallace and Shakur 
I keep ya ammo clean, text polished in the drawer 
Camera's by the hamper that mine into the floor 
by now, you probably heard of me 
fresh outta surgery, flashy as a fuck, you gon' have to murder me 
Burglary, I'm leavin wit cha nike's bergendy, White T, bergendy 
you match now, back down 
niggas love to hate you, but love you when you disappear 
catch me on the boat wit weed smoke and official gear 
heavy when I toke, C notes from different years 
Besly in the robe, re-motes for liftin chairs 
You ain't rich, but we glad to snatch ya 
I send cars to crib like I'm a cab dispatcha 
you better off wit ya stupid guys, lookin for a coupe to drive 
you ain't gettin nuttin but ya french fries supersized 
it's a damn shame y'all still local 
I'm in a million dollar studio layin my vocals 
Nigga 

[50 Cent] 
Still in the projects nigga, you ain't goin nowhere 
you gon' fuckin be there for the rest of yo muthafuckin life 
and yo momma said, I'm supposed to tell you somethin..... 
to encourage you, somethin positive 
aight well I ain't gon' lie to you muthafucka, he ain't goin nowhere 
get yaself a beer, get on the fuckin curve 
fuckin dirtbag