From New York to Compton, real respect, real
One hand on the wheel, one hand on the steel
Roll that, pass that, cock that, blast that
Flip that, flash that, I'm always where the cash at
That's why I'm in a nigga crib screaming where the stash at
Nigga, come up with the chips and get hit
This is that Beretta bounce, that full clip sound
That six shot revolver dance, now spin around
Any day gunplay, Friday, Monday
Strawberry Sunday, I'll light up your Hyundai
Your hoopty hit up, you ain't dead get up
Nigga, one to the git-ut, 'll hurt more than your sit ups
It's nasty it's foul right, this is what my style like
Bang Bang, G Unit's the gang, mang
I reload and unload, I explode
On the track I'm more addicting to crack, better yet to smack
I'll take you higher and higher 50 is fire, word to Maniyah
This is not the beginning, I'm not done winning
Pray the God keep me from sinning, the shit that I been in
Got me ready to squeeze, breeze, fuck the D's
Niggas spit bars, but they not like these
This is that Porsche, Carrera, Ferrari, F 50 flow
The type shit that bring flocks of 0's
Can you feel it? I make you feel it
I'll have the hood and the frenzie on some real shit
You rocking with the don dada, the blood clot charters
Follow orders, they treat me like I walk on water
I'm the Tapdance king when I come to the bricks
I get to stepping in the name of love this shit
Trust me, this is not what they expected
The kid back around to wreck shit
Niggas relief on the walls of fire the jewels 'll blind em
The unit be shining like no other motherfucker
Misdemeanors Lyrics performed by 50 Cent are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that Misdemeanors Lyrics performed by 50 Cent is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD