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Correct Follow Me Gangster Lyrics
Lyrics
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Artists: 0-9
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50 Cent
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Correct Follow Me Gangster
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Lyrics:
(feat. G-Unit) [50] Yeah.. Sha (=Sha Money xl his producer who drop the beat, because of that he ask "sha you ready?"), you ready? Drop that Ferrari F 50 style baby (yeah, yeah) I'ma show 'em how I do it (yeah, yeah) G-g-g-g-g G-Unit! I keep hearin' niggas is happy, the D's come, niggas wit guns When I'm out on bail, ridin' wit' some new ones Big got hit in that passenger seat Pac got hit in that passenger seat Now I'm ridin' 'round in that passenger seat Come near the whip, I'm blastin' my heat It don't take long, for my juvenile delinquent thinkin' to sink in The consequences mean nothin', them semi auto's is bustin' Crack sellin', predicate fellon (look at Tony Yayos album!), spit big words but I can't spell 'em Put a shot to your melon, that'll keep you're punk ass from tellin' Then I got that nine and a fo'-fo', that H2 is never full Bullet proof windows and doors, gangsta how 'bout yours Southside tatted on my back My last gun shipment got the whole hood strapped Now all I got is two 380's and a nine Nigga you can knock and tell the cops but you're dyin' [Chorus - repeat 2X] You're thicker than water Ouch! Twizzy wizzy wa You're thicker than water Ouch! Twizzy wizzy wa You're thicker than water Ouch! Twizzy wizzy wa You can be a Blood or a Crip Nigga, bitch Follow Me Did not correct his part!!! [Tony Yayo] I used to chill in the hood, to support the fiends But now I'm eatin' caviar instead of pork and beans I'm in the money green 7-45, with 7 shots in the fo' five Y'all niggas wanna die? I got a love affair, wit' violence and guns So this is for them gangstas, rep' where you from When I got older, my heart turned colder That's why the mac react like a king cobra Now I'm jumpin' out of Rovers, in Gucci loafers Y'all niggas wanna stun? I'll bury you cockroaches Gimme one year in this industry I'll buy enough guns to declare war on a small country [Chorus:] [Lloyd Banks] Still walk around wit' the hammer boss Rope and a cross Hard times'll make a lil' nigga hate Santa Claus Your mountains is high, holdin' in Diana Ross I'm like a 2003 banana Porsche I don't gotta hide s***s, to get your ties cut They on my dick, 'cause I make groupies set off a fire truck My team in the cutt, packin' middle things And that's more foreign shooters than the Sacramento Kings It's 8 class karats in the border I poke holes in plastic, to avoid a vaginal disorder I'm a savage on your daughter She ain't in the college dorm Then I guess I'm squirtin' on the cabin that you bought her I'm a heavy weed smoker, so the average is a quarter Brown colored from shit, he established in the water You got Banks on your jersey, you part of my fan base Just 'cause you pour syrup on shit, don't make it pancakes [Chorus:]
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