[50 Cent]   I wanna be the reason you smile after you wipe ya tears   The reason you have the courage to confront ya fears   The reason there's two karats in each of ya ears   I splurge with the paper ma, I don't care   How you like it, pumps or boots, jeeps or coops   Minks or leathers, fifty fall off never   Whats mine is yours and whats yours is mine   So when I shine, you shine   The finest champagne, we can toast to life   Crap table in Vegas, you can toss the dice   Don't let ya fears let you confuse sayin' 'fifty's bad news'   I need you in my life girl, your too much to lose      [Beat switches]      [Hook]   Nigga, you won't deny that I'ma f**kin' ride out   Then you'll bump heads wit me   I'll put a hole in yo ass, you'll see   That it ain't cool to f**k wit me      [Tony Yayo]   G-Unit, I roll wit gorillas   F**k a big body guard, I hang wit pint size killas   I ain't tryin' to be dirty, still on the strip   I'm tryin' to be dirty, filthy rich   Give a nigga too much rope, he think he a cowboy   Give Tony too much dope, I'm pushin' the big boy   V12, SL detailed   I rap and wait for them checks in the mail   If you hatin', your due time life will expire   Cause my guns speak jamaican, they be like 'Bloodfire!'   Where I'm from, niggas be on some sleak shit   They hungry, use they lighters to cook their beef stick      And this 'dro and this nestle got me right   So my lungs be as black as Wesley Snipes   I'm on first class flights heading towards Vegas   Ya slot machines niggas, we crap table players   I roll a seven, cause we crap table players      [Hook]   Nigga, you won't deny that I'ma f**kin' ride out   Then you'll bump heads wit me   I'll put a hole in yo ass, you'll see   That it ain't cool to f**k wit me      [Lloyd Banks]   I know a lot of niggas want Banks gone   My kind of beef will f**k up ya grill and not the kind you put   franks on   I'm hidin' out, so my meals is home cooked   I deal wit more ho's than a chinese phone book   Your high with your messed up ratchets   I'm out blowin' haze bags the size of ketchup packets   F**k who's in ya ride, there's tools on my side   By the females standin' with tattoos on they thighs   There's a lot of cats losin' they wives   Cause next time I see 'em, they got black and blues on they eyes   Nah, I ain't ready to die, but I'm prepared   But I'd rather grow old with grey hairs in my beard   They know me in the field, the kid with the fans   That argue over my balls like Kobe and Shaquille   If you talkin' bout millions throw me in the deal   Big city, stadium tour, ruining the bill motherf**ker