Album: Rotten Apple
(feat. 50 Cent & DJ Whoo Kid)
[Intro:]
"MONEY! MONEY! MONEY! THE CAKE! " {DAMN! }
I need the Cake, nigga! {MO' MONEY! }
[Lloyd Bank$ {DJ Whoo Kid}:]
G-Unit don't play (uh-uh!) - we rap but we strapped [gun cocks]
Buck got the Shotgun 50 got the Mac. [gunshot] {Whoooooo! }
Spida' got the streeper and you bound to hear it clap. [automatic gunshots]
Yo won't have another birthday "CAKE! " Afta that. {DAMN! }
'Cause Yayo got a temper, and he don't know how to act.
And I been gone for the winter, but now a nigga back,
To get the money! The "MONEY! " The "MONEY! " The "MONEY! " The "CAKE! " {CAN'T FORGET... }
And you muthafuckas {SLOW! } lookin' like steak! (whooo!) {WHAT? }
Food on the plate for the wolves follow wolves
Don't get moved by the tools battle wounds on ya shoes.
Wait! [gunshot] {DAMN! } - Control ya hate! - You ain't ridin in them 6s. (WHY?)
'Cause you spendin' all ya "CAKE" on them bitches. (uh!)
I need the bread lil' niggas need Christmas. (uh-huh!)
Bank$ don't rap with' a back pack.
I'm in it for "the MONEY! "
"The MONEY! The MONEY! The MONEY! " - The CAKE! "
[50 Cent {DJ Whoo Kid}:]
Haha! - You heard Bank$ said so I know I got the Mag' [gun cocks]
I pull up pull out spray [shot] hollows at your dad.
I don't give a fuck, it's goin' down like that
I done been through every hood dead ("CAKE") niggas gone rap. {Whoooooo! }
In the heart of a victim - murda is monumental
I don't complicate shit. Yeah! - I keep it simple.
My bulletwounds {DAMN! } (THE MONEY!) will (THE MONEY!) tell (THE MONEY!) U a story 'bout with'
(THE CAKE!) I been through SouthSide trama drama - with' gallamas. {SHA MONEY! } [gunshot]
I conversate with' Killas it's usually about life
Politic with lawness it's usually about white.
I'm da poster child of violence, I'm the boy on the poster.
When the shots start to rang out I'm the boy with' the toaster. [gun cocks] ("CAKE! ")
Yeah listen up chicko! {Whooooo! } I hustle, I get dough.
You fuckin with a sicko - I spazz let a clip go.
Cannon (THE MONEY!) out da rental (THE MONEY!) - beam (THE MONEY!) to ya temple, (THE CAKE)
I squeeze blow your mental - all ova ya friends. {BIG PROOF! } [gunshot]
[Lloyd Bank$ {DJ Whoo Kid}:]
Me, I'm from the street (street!) we ain't nothin' sweet, (sweet!)
The home of the homies there's a body every week. (week!)
Now I don't hear the sirens, but they prolly gonna creep, (creep!) {CAN'T FORGET... }
Plottin to pull me ova, plant the - "CAKE! " in my jeep. (whooo!) {RAY! }
So I'll be skippin' cities 7 states in a week. {FUCK YO' LYING! }
Can't a muthafucka breathin tell me I can't eat .
Show me "The MONEY! " Uh! "The MONEY! " Uh! "The CAKE! " Uh! "The MONEY! " Uh! "The CAKE! "
{WhooooooooOO Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiid! } Niggas slow down - pump ya breaks! {DAMN! }
No mistakes, 'cause the jakes, run the plates
Then you headed up state - for rollin' round with' a steak. (uh-huh!)
Niggas start up the beef and run straight to the cops
You a bitch ass nigga the cup ("CAKE! ") of the block. {HAHA! }
Any nigga disrespect the click gettin' shot [shot]
'Round here niggas get found upside down.
Ova' The "MONEY! " The "MONEY! " The "MONEY! " The "MONEY! " The "CAKE! "
[Outro: Lloyd Bank$]
Whoooooo-whoooo-whoooooooooooooooooooooo!