8 More Miles - 50 Cent, Lloyd Banks, Tony Yayo

This rap shit plays a major part in my life

So if you jeapordize it I got the right

To send a mothafucka at you tonight

G-Unit!

And I ain’t stoppin' till my clique poppin'

Swimmin' in barrels of money

Ma can walk around with her head up, cuz her child ain’t a dummy

It’s funny, niggas would rather see you sufferin' and hungry

I’m comfy as hell, skatin' with another nigga’s money

You lyin' your ass off, you know you ain’t that tough

I’m pullin' your mask off as soon as you act up

You know what I came for, a piece of the game, or

Artillery that’s about as long as a chainsaw (Lloyd Banks!)

I’m wide awake but it still feels like I’m dreamin'

Forty cal.

under my pillow, condom full of my semen

The physical presence of a female’s the form of a demon

That’s why I, fuck 'em and leave 'em

Get my nut while I’m breathin'

Cause they thought they’d catch me slippin', now I’m duckin' and trippin'

That’s a thousand dollar outfit what the fuck is you rippin'?

You trippin', more records could get my ass in position

Death waits for no religion whether Catholic or Christian

Listen, I went through Mama bitchin' in and out the kitchen

With probable cause, Papa was in and out of prison

You got soldiers, but you still gotta respect ours

We got more four five’s and nines than a deck of cards

You can take me out the 'hood, but can’t take the 'hood out me (Cause what?)

Cause I’m ghetto, I’m ghetto

Niggas hate when you do good

But when you broke, your friends and your enemies

They love you, they love you

«Chi Chi, get the yayo»

Picture me being crack, out of town, trips on the train, What!

«Chi Chi, get the yayo»

Picture me being crack (Tony Yayo!)

You can sniff me, cut me, I’ll turn you to a junkie

I’m the number one seller in the whole fuckin' country

Wall Street niggas, they cop me on the low

White boys don’t call me coke, they call me blow

It’s time to go, on the bus, the train, the plane

I’m smuggled, I’m nothin' but trouble

I’ll make your money double

Cook me in baking soda

I’ll turn your Hooprock into a new Range Rover

I’ll pay all your bills and fill your 'frigerator

Feed your family, turn your man to a hater

You can put me in your door panels or your stashbox

Put me in your Nikes, Timbs or Reeboks

If you cop three and a half you hustling backwards

Cop a hundred grams, you moving forwards

You tryin' to move more birds

…In PA all day, on the corner of Third

You can take me out the 'hood, but can’t take the 'hood out me (what?)

Cause I’m ghetto, I’m ghetto

Picture me polishin' pistols, I’m comin' to get you

The shells hit you, you screamin'

Think I’m playin'?

I mean it

Man, I done bought all these pistols

Lets get it poppin'

Start to wave em and boy shell cases get to droppin' (C'mon)

If Jeffrey’s down the corner, I got too much pride to hide

I’m outside, gun in my pocket just stunnin' I’m stoppin'

I’m dyin' to pop it, I’m young and I’m restless, you know the contestants

As the world turns, there’s lessons to be learned

Count all my blessin’s, clean up my weapons

I’m ready for war, the strong survive, the weak shall perish

I told you before, hoes they compliment me now like «50 nice chain»

Belagio, twenty grand in chips at the dice games

Ballin out, can’t stop gotta watch MTV, BET

Nigga you see me!

I wonder if you mad, cause I’m doin' good

Or cause niggas feelin' me more than you in your own 'hood

And it hurts cause you love 'em and they don’t love you back

Cause they know you just rappin' and you don’t bust a gat

You pussy

Yeah, explain it to the niggas in your hood nigga

They know you fuckin' frontin' nigga

Talkin' all that gangsta shit on a record, I see you nigga

Niggas know me nigga, ask around in my 'hood nigga

Read the «Daily News» nigga you see them talkin' about me nigga

I’m in the middle of all kinds of shit

Pussy, lets get it poppin'