Tony Yayo Explosion

(альбом: 50 Cent Is The Future - 2002)

[50 Cent:]
Yeah, F-50

[50 Cent:]
As times go by, I twist a lot
Fuck with me and my niggas, somebody gonna die
You think I'm all poinry, cause you see me getting high
But my knife, I'll have yo ass seeing out one eye

As times go by, I twist a lot
Fuck with me and my niggas, somebody gonna die
You think I'm all poinry, cause you see me getting high (yeah)
But my knife, I'll have yo ass seeing out one eye

[Tony Yayo:]
740 I, with the brand new shake (uh huh)
Got me pissing on hoes like the R. Kelly tape
If you see me in the club, nothing but Cris popping (yeah)
See me in court, my lawyers plea bargaining (woo)
Trying to turn a 3 to 6, to a 2 to 4 (uh huh)
Or 1 to 3, for an extra G
RIP to Etho, I miss Hevo
When I die, I hope heaven look like the ghetto (yeah)
Picture me trick, and take a loss
I'm cheap like the Chinese man with duck sauce
This Tony homey, I walk around with a big chrome
9 Ls will hit ya passenger, hit ya driver
G-Unit, you don't know a fucking clique liver
(You heard my nigga, you don't know a fucking clique liver)

[50 Cent:]
As times go by, I twist a lot
Fuck with me and my niggas, somebody gonna die (yeah)
You think I'm all poinry, cause you see me getting high (uh huh)
But my knife, I'll have yo ass seeing out one eye (eye)

As times go by, I twist a lot
Fuck with me and my niggas, somebody gonna die
You think I'm all poinry, cause you see me getting high
But my knife, I'll have yo ass seeing out one eye

[Tony Yayo:]
I never mix money and product with my friends (uh huh)
These chips, make relationships come to an end (what)
I pull the graveyard shift, getting money non-stop (uh huh)
And been on the block, ever since bunny tops (c'mon)
250 grizzies, scrape the plate (scrape that plate)
Got me on 750's straight from the plate (straight from the plate)
You can call on your soldiers, call your recruits (uh huh)
I do you dirty like Bishop did Raheem in "Juice" (Juice)
Allow myself, to introduce myself
This is Tony, the talk of New York, I'm holding the belt
I got thug in my blood (blood), game like a pimp (pimp)
And wrote my first verse, taking baths in the sink (yeah)
And yo I fear no man son, I never heard of a fair one
Never gotta borrow a handgun
Niggas on the street, getting smoked like bran son
So I stay dirty like "Sanford and Son" (yeah)
Groupies gossiping stay running their lips (woo)
Cause they seen the Gucci seats in the 6 (uh huh)
And seen the Fendi grips on the four fifth (what)
Shit, I sell bricks, shit, I sell shit on a stick (stick)
Enough of the talking, let's take it to the valance (uh huh)
The New York streets, will leave you physically challenged (challenged)
Don't be surprised, if I spit at you
Then come to your wake, and serve fiends at your funeral
Our bread is going towards a brick of dope
Cause I've been going hand and hand since "Different Strokes"
I'm a 50, an eighth, you a half a blunt
You the nigga in the mirror that practice stunts
What!