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50 cent – i don’t need ’em lyrics

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[intro]
yeah, it is what it is man
uh-huh

[verse 1]
sirens flashin’ you know the routine, the crime scene taped off
it started out a robbery, they blew half his face off
they seen him shinin’, cross full of diamonds he bought grindin’
his foot slip off the ladder of success he was climbin’
the d’s came through, askin’ n-ggas if they know what happened
somehow my name end up in anythin’ that involves clappin’
detectives at my mama crib, they say they wanna question me
they put me in a lineup last time and they arrested me
when it come to cookin’ c0ke, they know i got the recipe
i turn a quarter to a half, that’s why they mess with me
i’m the neighborhood pusher, i move packs to make stacks
a little weed, a little x, a little h, little crack
figure, i’ll push it to the limit, take the sh-t to the max
navy blue vest on, navy blue yankee hat
calm, in my palm’s fully loaded firearm
first to let off last to run, every time it’s on

[chorus]
i tell n-ggas to suck my d-ck, get the f-ck out my face
’cause i don’t need ’em
’cause they’re, never around, when i’m down
shot and i’m bleedin’

[break]
(what? n-gga is there.. is there a motherf-ckin’ problem n-gga?)
(oh, yeah that’s what i, i thought so.. p-ssy!)

[verse 2]
n-ggas be talkin ’bout me, they always callin’ me crazy
f-ck them og n-ggas, they stuck in the 80’s
sayin they gon’ do me somethin’, now you know that’s a lie
n-gga you look at me wrong i let the hammer fly
i’m rich, i still wake up, with crime on my mind
queens n-gga put it down like pappy mason in his prime
when i say move, n-gga move, or get caught in the crossfire
i prevents runnin’, cut my f-ckin’ hand on the barbed wire
this sh-t’s crazy, it’s just a different day it’s the same sh-t
hollow-tip partin’ yo’ head, leave your whole f-ckin’ brain split
they sick, they see me in that aston martin
what’s the matter? they can’t get that hooptie started
thought they was grindin’, well god d-mn, where that money at?
thought you was f-cked up, cause you was lettin’ paper stack
you ain’t a hustler, matter fact, you’s a buster
i don’t trust ya, i should send n-ggas to touch ya

[chorus]
i tell n-ggas to suck my d-ck, get the f-ck out my face
’cause i don’t need ’em
’cause they’re, never around, when i’m down
shot and i’m bleedin’

[outro]
what? who say they gon’ do somethin’ to me?
must be out your rabbit–ss mind
f-ck around k!ll one of these n-ggas