Yeah niggas, G-Unit in this motherfucker (It's the Unit)
Ayo 50, ayo this nigga barely breathing, nigga!

It won't be long before you dead
You wanna run your mouth crazy, talking about me
Nigga I come for your head
And leave your monkey-ass laid out in the street

It won't be long before you dead
You wanna run your mouth crazy, talking about me
Nigga I come for your head
And leave your monkey-ass laid out in the street

I hit your heart you dead, I squeeze till the semi run out
Niggas know me good, in my hood, call me a dumb out
I'm the nigga in the hooptie with my hat down low
Can't tell that this a hit, until the MAC-10 blow
I got 32 shots, I ain't got to aim
I'll wave this bitch in your direction man (Ha-ha)
Beams, clips and grips, this a sticky situation (Yeah)
Adrenaline rush, I squeeze, my heart start pacing

Same Glock, same block, same chain, same watch
Same six-four drop, same nigga on top
Don't blame me if your motherfucking block get hot
Because I'm just tryin' to make a livin', nigga stay up outta prison
In a position of power
In a position where bitch-ass cowards can't fuck with ours
And just do me, who he, say he going sue me?
Motherfucker I got bread (It won't be long before you dead)

If you can't, hold on, nigga, hold on
It seems like an ambulance
Always takes so long, when you're hit
It won't be long before you dead

When you wired up it ain't no smilin'
See all of them wildin', and these niggas is violent
Little do you know your time could be expirin'
And you know that Reaper comin' when that heater start dumpin'
Ain't nobody seen nothin', these niggas is silent
From 12th Avenue, all the way to the projects
Real niggas, we don't fuck around with the nonsense
Murder one shit, that's how it get, motherfucker what?

I put the fifth to your head, your white T turn red
Nigga now give up the bread, I'll fill your ass with lead
Put a hole in your wig, with the cig', your dig?
Said fuck with the kid, I don't play that shit (Come on)
It's all part of the game, man the game ain't fair
The trigger gots no heart, nigga my gun don't care
The hammer hit that shell, homie you see that flare
Your life start to flash, your dead, nigga who cares? (Yeah!)

If you can't, hold on, nigga, hold on
It seems like an ambulance
Always takes so long, when you're hit
It won't be long before you dead

Me and my bitch, we break up, we make up, see Jacob, for the stones
We kicked up, that's what's up, because I'm out with the chrome
You fuck up, you get bucked, Buck'll get ya'
Push a knife through your chest, boy I ain't fucking with ya'

The Unit's my hood, my coke, my weed, my dope
My pills; my liquor, my family, my niggas
We soldiers, we killers, they know us, they feel us
They know we gorillas, you know who the realest

The Unit's my gang, my set, my MAC, my TEC
My protection, my family, do you understand me?
My knife, my gun, my wife, my son
My love, my niggas, my stacks, them figures

Buckshots hit his ass from the shotgun blast
Black Dickie suit, and a fucking black ski-mask
Shoot first, this is how I react, and we act
Like it's nothing, Cashville niggas used to that
Listen

If you can't, hold on, nigga, hold on
It seems like an ambulance
Always takes so long, when you're hit
It won't be long before you dead

Copyright: Cloud9, MUSIC & MEDIA INT'L, INC., Songtrust Ave, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): BARRETT STRONG, CURTIS JAMES JACKSON, JOELL ORTIZ, NORMAN WHITFIELD