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Текст песни 50 Cent - Financial Freedom слова, клип

10 февраля 2013 г. Просмотров: 1787 RSS
# » 50 CENT

[Verse 1]

Nigga, this is not a fictional tale, this shit real

Who’s sittin’ in the Bookings? Charge, direct sale

Third shootout… we was fightin’ for positions

Shell casings out my 9 flyin’ through your mama kitchen

Paper we stack it, yeah, pistols we pack it

You fuck around, we’ll blow your heart out the back of your jacket

Bitch, get down or lay down, my work is that chach

‘Cause he got big, now he lieutenant so he sit there and watch

I swear to God I think I had the same vision that K had

Woke up sayin’ “we gon’ turn them corners to Baghdad”

Yeah, we was young, but we had guns, we started juxing niggas

All you hear is Boo-Boo fuckin’ with them Brooklyn niggas

I had supreme schemes, call it Wall thoughts

Start shootin’, I bet I’ll clear off the ball court

I want it all, that’s just how I fuckin’ feel, boy

Get in the way, you gon’ take you a trip to Deramores


[Hook]

I’m dreamin’ of…

My dream of freedom…

Financial freedom


[Verse 2]

This is to big bags of bread and some coke, nigga

You can get with the program, fam’ll get smoked, nigga

We was a school of sharks – a bunch of young soldiers

Open your head when you’re half dead – you see? I told you

On the island, got that burner, got the flamethrower

A couple niggas got blown, I got my name known

Over the phones, soon as I’m home, the game’s sewn

I got connections – look, bitch, I’m connected

And I ain’t givin’ niggas no passes, so respect it

Or get dealt with, I’ll break you off proper

You ready to die, huh? Too much Big Papa

Easy – nigga chill or get laid out

I’ll put a hole in you then find out what your gang ‘bout

I do my dirt, I’m hardly ever by my lonely

I got that tek with that cooling system on me, homie

You think you want it? You don’t want it with me, homie


[Hook]


[Verse 3]

We stackin’ paper ‘til we strong then we takin’ over

Grab a gat, bring the crack back with baking soda

Bridge the gap, get slapped, actin’ like you know us

North Pole, nah, Southside produce the colas

We’re the last of our litter, this is what they taught us

We’ve got to kill what we eat, that nigga came up on us

If you ain’t gamblin’, get the fuck out the spot, boy

Shoot an ace off your foot, that’s some shit you should get shot for

Fuck it, when I win I’m a winner – when I lose, I’m a winner

‘Cause to my niggas y’all niggas lookin’ like steak dinner

You screw your face the fuck up, you goin’ through what?

The strap big enough in my truck to chew your crew up

Nigga stand down or get manned down

Mack, two clips, 30 rounds plus 30 rounds, flip it around

You gon’ fuck around and get jammed up, blammed up

Hit your spine, a standup nigga can’t even stand up


[Hook]

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