Video The Work Out Pt 4 2006 » 50 Cent Lyrics | Musica Hip Hop

50 Cent - The Work Out Pt 4 2006 Lyrics

I hear alot of talkin' niggas must be mad at Bank$
Ah you bitch ass niggas! Y'all niggas love talkin'
I just smile on my dude! Y'all can catch me
But there's only one problem, niggas ain't as bad as Bank$

On the top of the newboard this summer
Yeah nigga! Punchline kid is back
New York City stand the fuck up, man! Yeah

Go get ya camera man
That's a Lambo' fam
Gun in the safe, the same one from Rambo hand
I got a pack of ?
You know whatever chedda
Flyin' my New York hoe in cause her head is better
I said I'd never sweat her
Well I guess I lied
She suck the ghost outta a nigga and I'm petrified
You niggas nuthin' but roaches hit the pesticide
I spray lil', you roll around god in ya neck and die
I'm the nicest out
Look at the ring you hear the price and pout
Every 16th I ice 'em out
50 sold 11 mill' brought Tyson house
And mine to, cross dude and the knife come out
I can't wait to see you bricks on the side stretch
Bunch a holes in ya like the bricks in the projects
Kefflon whips rubber grips for the nonsense
Conscience of the consequences, obnoxious
And we can ride all night
Somebody might come get 'em tie his bandana on too tight
You can book 'em short notice, I'm a sell out in the night
The car won't get me there
But the helicopter might
I bring all the toys out let the clip go shit
The whip so new even the bird shit don't stick
I got a hell of a system sound travel 3 blocks
Bulletproof doors and all you can eat tops
Runnin' out to me
I only need the funerals I button all you niggas up like Jay-Z
I smoke for free when I'm out in DC
VVS's is in my ear clearer than HD
I don't know why he walk around with my logo he ain't me
Braggin' 'bout the millions of dollars you ain't see
Gimme ammo in a jammy my hand over a Grammy
2 cribs, that's why I ship the Lambo' in Miami
Please, ain't tryin' to be in a jam over the panties
They love 'em when I leave 'em for the very same reason
One nigga started. A couple niggas followed
Now they all can't eat like the Next Top Model
New York City boy but they love me in Chicago
A lil more in Philly from here to Atlantic City
I flip flop smokin' around, 6 drop cruisin' the town
6 shot ruger the pound with Hip-Hop screwin'
Nah I don't give a fuck Joe Pesci flow
Might win another Vibe award if they let me go
I'm like royalty a muthafuckin' king
When I move she move like a puppet on a string
50 karats on the bracelet a couple on the ring
My treasure chest is a mess, a bucket full of bling
I'm the P cut boy I tuck 'em in the whole piece
You mutherfuckas is lucky,I don't wear gold teeth
I hear alot of talkin' these niggas they mad at Bank$
I bet they'll keep on talkin', after this shot they'll be tellin' the Jake
My niggas they get it poppin' find out when we at your wake
You and you in your coffin, damn you made a big mistake

Yeah
It's 50 nigga
Y'all niggas know whassup
Lloyd Bank$
The changin' of the cards
I'll be back nigga... I'll just fall back
Feel what I'm sayin'?
It's Bank$ turn nigga
Now watch this
You hear that ?
That's the money machine
Boop, boop, boop
You hear that ?... That's the money truck backin' up
It's Lloyd Bank$ nigga!
You should already know ?
You gonna eat with the Unit
Or you gonna eat a can of sardines