[50]
  Yeah.. Ja, 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', those semi auto's is bustin'
  Crack sellin', predicate villain, spit big words but I can't spell 'em
  Put a shot to your melon, that'll keep you're punk ass from chillin'
  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, you bitch
  Follow Me
    [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 O'd up, 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 sluts, 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
  I got 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]