I Don't Wanna Talk About It

Исполнитель:
G-Unit
Просмотров:
143,980

Добавить в закладки

589

Мне нравится

Текст, перевод и аккорды “I Don't Wanna Talk About It”
[50 Cent] I don't wan' talk about it (50) Man I don't wanna talk about it (nah) Man I don't wan' talk about it (yeah) And I don't wanna talk about it (wooo-oooh!) [Chorus: 50 Cent] I make millions quick and I don't wan' talk about it Nah I don't wanna talk about it I shoot a nigga kid and I don't wan' talk about it Nah I don't wanna talk about it I fuck the baddest bitches, I don't wan' talk about it Nah I don't wanna talk about it I'm still flippin chickens, I don't wan' talk about it Nah I don't wanna talk about it [50 Cent] These niggaz police Go 'head, ask me what I'm ridin in so I can say the Enzo My bitch roll down the window so I could feel the wind blow Got big enough for me to fiddle on my kinfolk Bitches with me cruisin, Moulin Rouge and They fuckin and they strippin nigga, I ain't even trippin nigga Me I handle business; God's my only witness Watchin homicide, sayin "Who the fuck did this?" Me I run the street mayne, so I keep the heat mayne Sews what you reap, when you fuck with the elite mayne I don't fuck around boy; you better ask around boy I hit you with the pound, leave yo' ass on the ground For, you poppin that bullshit, like I don't pull shit Fully loaded clips and whips, get the grip, clip the bricks Nigga we hittin licks, stickin shit, gettin rich That's why my name ring bells all around this bitch Any hood you go through they know 50 Cent (wooo-oooh!) And I don't wanna talk about it (OHH!) [Chorus] [Tony Yayo] Yeah, it's the kid nigga, yeah Aiyyo, big money, my car got the big face (yeah!) Forty-five, my belt got the big eights Niggaz hate but I'm low seven star Caesar For grimy niggaz tryin to line me like {?} preacher You niggaz got the nerve, I'm at Johannesburg With Mandela nephew blowin heavy herb Then back to the projects, low from the task force The dope spot's sellin more shit than Scott Storch I'm tired of these pricks, lyin 'bout bricks Got my can and my white, my tan like Mariah and Nick Fly in the '60 U.F.O. Unidentified flyin object on twenty-fo's More money more hoes, more money more clothes Smoke that AK-48, not bullshit 'dro (yeah) I rock big arenas, not bullshit shows And my pants three thousand, these ain't bullshit clothes (OHH!) [Chorus] [Lloyd Banks] Nah, uhh B-A, N-K, S-5, 5-oh Or 6-8, M-G, tinted with my eyes low Homie I'm a Tahoe, fully loaded nine blow You see out on hydro, Luciano blind hoe Loiue V offended me, {?} in my Bentley C And weekends are the chills, I'ma fuck her 'til she empty Empty on you if you front, 'til your passenger is stuck Give your ass a brand new scar, in need of a brand new car I ain't them I'm different baby, I talk, you listen baby Listen and I'll show you, how money controls you I'll put you in my old school, and let you pop the switch Pocketful in every packet, that's why I'm poppin shit I don't forgive I don't forget, what you said, where you flip When you get hit, I hope that's it, pop-pop, all on your whip I-I, be on that shit, I'm high, I'm on that piff Bye-bye, you fuckin bitch, you ain't hot, you ain't rich You a snitch! [Chorus]

Поделитесь с друзьями: