2003 | 221
Life's On The Line | Get Rich Or Die Tryin'
50 Cent

Letra Lifes On The Line 50 Cent

Nobody likes me, but that’s okay
Cause I don’t like y’all anyway
And I don’t like y’all anyway, fuck all y’all!
I let my watch talk for me, my whip talk for me
My gat talk for me, blow, what up homie
The bitches who don’t know me, they wanna blow me
Cause the shit I floss with saying a lot for me

I came into rap humble, I don’t give a fuck now
I’ll serve anybody like niggas who hustle uptown
Coke price go up, capsules come down
The D’s run in my crib, I’m nowhere to be found
Niggas who hustle for me, they don’t even stash tracks
They keep it on ‘em, right there in they ass crack
When I don’t like a nigga, I don’t pretend to
I’ll have the paramedics wrap your fucking head like a Hindu
Look, I ain’t going nowhere, so get used to me
OG’s look at me and see I’m what they used to be
I’m that nigga that sold coke, the nigga that sold dope
The nigga that shot dice, went broke and sold soap
The thug that pop shit, the thug that pop clips
The thug that went from three and a half to a whole brick
Nigga ain’t in his right mind, going against me
My picture’s painted through words that make a blind man see

Scream murder! (I don’t believe you!)
Murder! (Fuck around and leave you!)
Murder! (I don’t believe you!)
Murder, murder! (Your life’s on the line!)

Y’all niggas don’t want no parts of me
I’m tryna figure out how y’all started me
You gon’ make me catch you on the late night
Pop shots wit the fifth and slide off in the six

I’m not a marksmen while sparking, so I spray random
Not a pretty nigga but my moms think I’m handsome
I hate to hear “he say, she say” shit
Unless he say she said she on my dick
It’s no coincidence, niggas who fuck with me get shot up
Do it Cali style, drive by and tear ya block up
You soft, Duke, you putting up a crazy front
I stay with the Mac, cause niggas tried to blaze me once
In the hood they be like, “Damn, 50 really spit it on ‘em”
You heard that shit? “Yeah, 50 really shitted on ‘em”
Beef, you don’t want none, so don’t start none
You’re just a small player in this game, play your part son

Scream murder! (I don’t believe you!)
Murder! (Fuck around and leave you!)
Murder! (I don’t believe you!)
Murder, murder! (Your life’s on the line!)

These cats always escape reality when they rhyme
That’s why they write about bricks and only dealt with dimes
Leave it to them, and they say they got a fast car
NASCAR, truck with a crash bar
And TV’s in the dash, pa
See ‘em in the five with stock rims, I just laugh, pa
I catch stunts when I ain’t trying
I ain’t lying, I sip Dom P til I spit up, keep my wrist lit up
Get outta line, I get you hit up
Now if you say my name in your rhyme, you better watch what you say
You get carried away, you can get shot and carried away
Now here’s a list of MC’s that can kill you in eight bars:
50, umm.. Jay-Z and Nas
I’mma say this shit now and never again
We ain’t buddies, we ain’t partners, and we damn sure ain’t friends
The games you playing, you get killed like that
Acting like you all hard, you ain’t built like that
See me when you see me nigga, WHAT?

Scream murder! (I don’t believe you!)
Murder! (Fuck around and leave you!)
Murder! (I don’t believe you!)
Murder, murder! (Your life’s on the line!)

Y’all niggas don’t want no parts of me
I’m tryna figure out how y’all started me
You gon’ make me catch you on the late night
Pop shots wit the fifth and slide off in the six

Letra Lifes On The Line 50 Cent