Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Lifes On The Line, artist - 50 Cent. Date of issue: 31.12.2002
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Lifes On The Line |
| Nobody likes me Nobody likes me, but that’s okay |
| Cause I don’t like y’all anyway |
| … And I don’t like y’all anyway |
| Fuck all y’all! |
| My watch talk for me, my whip talk for me My gat talk for me BLAT! |
| Whattup homie |
| For bitches who don’t know me |
| … They wanna blow me Cause the shit I floss wit sayin a lot for me I came into rap humble, I don’t give a fuck now |
| Serve anybody like niggaz who hustle uptown |
| Coke price go up, cats is come down |
| The D’s run in my crib, I’m nowhere to be found |
| The bitch who hustle for me, they dont even stash tracks |
| They keep it on 'em, right there in they ass crack |
| When I don’t like a nigga, I don’t pretend to |
| I’ll have the paramedics wrap your fuckin head like a Hindu |
| Look, I ain’t goin nowhere, so get used to me OG’s look at me and see what they used to be |
| I’m that nigga that sold coke, the nigga that sold dope |
| The nigga that shot Dice when he broke to So So |
| The thug, they pop shit, the thug that pop clips |
| The thug that went from three and a half to whole bricks |
| Nigga ain’t in his right mind, goin against me My picture’s painted through words that make a blind man see |
| Scream murder! |
| (I don’t believe you!) |
| Murder! |
| (Fuck around and leave you!) |
| Murder! |
| (I don’t believe you!) |
| Murder, murder! |
| (Your life’s on the line!) |
| Y’all niggaz don’t want no parts of me |
| I’m tryna figure out how y’all started me Make me catch her on the late night |
| Pop shots wit the fifth and slide off wit the six |
| I’m not a marksmen while spark issue, I spray random |
| Not a pretty nigga but my moms think I’m handsome |
| I hate to hear He say, She say shit |
| Unless he say she say she on my dick |
| It’s no coincidence, niggaz who fuck wit me get shot up I do a Cali style drive by and tear ya block up You soft through, be puttin up a crazy front |
| I stay wit the Mac, cause niggaz tried to blaze me once |
| In the hood they be like, Damn, 50 really spitted on 'em |
| You heard that shit? |
| Yeah, 50 really shitted on 'em |
| Beef, you don’t want none, so don’t start none |
| You just a small player in this game, play a part son |
| These cats always escape reality when they rhyme |
| That’s why they write about bricks and only dealt wit dimes |
| Leave it to them, and they say they got a fast car |
| Nascar, truck wit a crash bar, and TV’s in the dash, pa See 'em in the five wit stock rims, I just laugh, pa I catch stunts when I ain’t tryin |
| I ain’t lyin, I sit Dom P til I split up Keep my rent split up Get outta line, I get you hit up (Wooo!) |
| Now if you say my name in your rhyme, watch what you say |
| You get carried away, you can get shot and carried away |
| Now here’s a list of MC’s that can kill you in eight bars: |
| 50, umm Jay-Z and Nas |
| I’ma say this shit now and never again |
| We ain’t buddies, we ain’t partners and we damn sure ain’t friends |
| The games you playin, you get killed like that |
| Actin like you all hard, you ain’t built like that |
| See me when you see me nigga, one (one) |
| Y’all niggaz don’t want no parts of me |
| I’m tryna figure out how y’all started me You gon make me catch her on the late night |
| Pop shots wit the fifth and slide off wit the six |