Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Follow Me Gangster , by - 50 Cent. Release date: 31.12.2002
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Follow Me Gangster |
| 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 |
| That’ll keep your punk ass from tellin' |
| That I got that nine and that fo'-fo', the H2 on double fours |
| 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' |
| 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 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 |
| 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 |