Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Peep Show , by - 50 Cent. Release date: 31.12.2006
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Peep Show |
| Ha ha ha! |
| I told niggas not to shoot dice with me |
| Look at this stack, I got money, I got money! |
| Ha ha ha. |
| Aw nigga don’t trip, I’ll kill you if you fuck with my grip |
| I won’t hesitate to let off a clip |
| Aw nigga don’t trip, you gon' make me get on some shit |
| Run up on you quick, wet up your whip |
| Aw nigga don’t trip, you gon' get your monkey-ass hit |
| Runnin your lip, tryin to fuck with my clique |
| Aw nigga don’t trip, in case you didn’t know who this is |
| It’s 50 Cent bitch, G-Unit |
| Aw nigga don’t trip |
| I come through your hood, stunting in my yellow Lam' |
| Murcielago, top down, nigga damn |
| I’m the biggest crook from New York since Son of Sam |
| Cruising, bumping Buck’s shit, Ruger in my hand |
| Thinking the East ain’t enough, it’s time to expand |
| I plan to head out West and plant my feet down |
| A nigga big as King Kong in the street now |
| I do a little house shopping, and buy me a crib |
| It’s palm trees and pretty bitches out in Cali kid |
| I touch the Hollywood paper, go and shoot me some flicks |
| Have some supermodel bitches come and suck on some dick |
| Mama’d turn in her grave if I married a white chick |
| But Becky’ll suck the chrome off a Chevy and shit |
| Niggas be wearing fake shines, I’m rocking a lil' charm |
| 30 carats on the pinky, kiss the ring on the Don |
| Crack open that Cali bud, stuff the weed in the palm |
| Nigga you hustle, but me I’ll hustle harder |
| I got what you need; |
| them trees, that hard, that powder |
| My niggas move G-packs, every hour on the hour |
| They shoot when I say shoot, so I’m in a position of power |
| You fuck around if you wanna |
| Where I’m from you learn to blend in or get touched |
| I don’t need niggas for support, I don’t walk with a crutch |
| Niggas know my steez, they don’t fuck with me son |
| You got a appetite for hollow-tips, I feed you my gun |
| This is that Ferrari F-50 shit, it’s real laid back |
| Type shit you recline to in the Maybachs |
| I got two shooters now on the run from the fuzz |
| You get the same shit for ten bodies you get from one cuz |
| I live life in the fast lane; |
| hundred miles an hour |
| Chrome and some wood grain |
| You know a nigga still really tryin to move 'caine |
| Make a little extra money on the side mayne, I ain’t playing |
| I’m up early with the birds, word, putting that work in |
| Pirellis on the Porsche chirping, I’m making moves |
| I got a hundred mil from music, a hundred grand from crack |
| Gonna see my jeweler so I can blow a stack |
| Nigga you hustle, but me I’ll hustle harder |
| I got what you need; |
| them trees, that hard, that powder |
| My niggas move G-packs, every hour on the hour |
| They shoot when I say shoot, so I’m in a position of power |
| You fuck around if you wanna |