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Testo Window Shopper Remix - 50 Cent

Testo della canzone Window Shopper Remix (50 Cent), tratta dall'album Hip-Hop Wasteland

Pow
Meal ticket, what's poppin'? (Can't forget)
Voodoo, load up (Chi-Town)
Goon squad, round them 30 shots up, load up (Man free)
Time to get shit poppin', gotta get the keys and lock it
'Bout to get the block to rockin' like a cut off stockin', nigga
Bump's nothin' to toy with
I got X and O's you can push like a PlayStation joystick
I hustle them keys (Yeah), they lovin' him, see (Uh-huh)
I do it real B.I., now watch me double them G's (Double them G's)
Goofy ass pigs tried hustlin' me
I ain't buyin' from the feds, that's government cheese (Man, what?)
Sure they gon' give your ass a room, you gon' shine
Next, they gon' have you in the box for a long time
My connect hit me with a brick, it was on time
I got it, got busy like a tied up phone line (Yeah)
Come to the tip, see the whips and long lines
The licks and the 30 shot clips and chrome irons
We don't just hold 'em on our hips, we gon' fire 'em
If you don't want a hole in your head, then don't try me
This butter melt down fast like some lard
Whip it up, cook it up 'til it's nice and hard (Nice and hard)
Bag it, then I pass it to you all
Just post up, I bet it move faster than U-Haul, ya heard?
Time to get shit poppin', gotta get the keys and lock it
'Bout to get the block to rockin' like a cut off stockin', nigga
You old dope, better run every slug, homie
Or get changed, all my money got blood on it
Time to get shit poppin', gotta get the keys and lock it
'Bout to get the block to rockin' like a cut off stockin', nigga
New whips, got 'em sick, they ain't feelin' well
I got bricks on the tip and this a kilo sale
Bunch of green on me like a can of ginger ale
I heard his pussy ass got bumped, I bet he finna tell (Damn)
I'm knockin' on wood now, I never been to jail
I stay in the kitchen, grams on and off the digi' scale
Terrence Bourne, the youngest son of Linda Hale
Come and see Bump, I can teach you how to get your mail
My niggas hungry, gotta get 'em that plate
I exercise my H, get rid of that weight
King of the Midwest, gimme that crown
My stash in shape, I get rid of them pounds
Spot me while I'm pumpin' iron, that person in danger
I stretch his ass out like a personal trainer (Ha-ha)
Lil' nigga, I heard you was tryna buff up
Well, playin' with my money get you nice and cut up
Watch me turn soft to rock
If I ain't got a Pyrex, I just use mama coffee pot (Damn)
Time to get shit poppin', gotta get the keys and lock it
'Bout to get the block to rockin' like a cut off stockin', nigga
You old dope, better run every slug, homie
Or get changed, all my money got blood on it



Credits
Writer(s): Curtis Jackson, Bob Marley
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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