PT2 & Bump Heads - Lyrics - G-unit

[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] ***, you won't deny that I'ma ***' ride out Then you'll bump heads wit me I'll put a hole in yo ***, you'll see That it ain't cool to *** wit me [Tony Yayo] G-Unit, I roll wit gorillas *** 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 *** 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, *** be on some sleak *** 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 ***, we crap table players I roll a seven, cause we crap table players [Hook] ***, you won't deny that I'ma ***' ride out Then you'll bump heads wit me I'll put a hole in yo ***, you'll see That it ain't cool to *** wit me [Lloyd Banks] I know a lot of *** want Banks gone My kind of beef will *** 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 *** 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 ***