I let my watch talk for me, my whip talk for me
My gat talk for me, baow, what up homie?
My watch sayin', "Hi shorty we can be friends" (woo)
My whip sayin', "Quit playin' bitch get in"
My earring sayin', "We can hit the mall together"
Shorty its only right that we ball together
I'm into bigger things y'all niggas y'all know my style
Ya wrist bling bling, my shit bling blaow
My pinky ring talk it say, "50, I'm sick"
That's why these niggas is on my dick
Some hate me, some love my hits
Flex my man he gon' bump my shit
See I'm alive, man, I really don't care (I don't care)
I tell them hoes whatever they want to hear
You try and play me I'ma blaze it in
My chromes cost more than the crib ya momma raised ya in

I was a poor, nigga
Now I'm a rich, nigga
Gettin' paper now you can't tell me shit, nigga
You can find me in the four-dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondlin' ya bitch, nigga

I was a poor, nigga
Now I'm a rich, nigga
Gettin' paper now you can't tell me shit, nigga
You can find me in the four-dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondlin' ya bitch, nigga

New York niggas, cocky niggaz like it's all good
Fuck around we Crip walkin' in the wrong hood
I'm fresh up out the slammer, I ain't no fuckin' Bama
I'm from the wild, woadie, but I know country grammar
See me I get it crunk, niggas go head and front
I go up out the trunk, come back, roll out I'm done (yeah)
My money come in lumps, my pockets got the mumps
You see me sittin' on dubs, that's why you mad chump
Don't make me hit ya up, 50 Cent'll split ya up
I lay you down, the coroners'll come and get ya up
See 50 play for keeps, and 50 stay wit' heat
I can't go commercial, they love me in the street
I'm real gutter, man, the hood love me, man
Don't make me show up in ya crib like bro-man
Locked up in the pen, I still did my thing
CO screamin', "Shut the fuck up," in the pen

I was a poor, nigga
Now I'm a rich, nigga
Gettin' paper now you can't tell me shit, nigga
You can find me in the four-dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondlin' ya bitch, nigga

I was a poor, nigga
Now I'm a rich, nigga
Gettin' paper now you can't tell me shit, nigga
You can find me in the four-dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondlin' ya bitch, nigga

I'm in the Benz on Monday, the BM on Tuesday
Range on Wednesday, Thursday I'm in the hooptie
Porsche on Friday, I do things my way
Vipe' or 'Vette, I tear up the highway
Shorty she can tell ya about my dick game
But she don't know me, she only know my nickname
Left the hood and came back, damn, shit changed
These young boys, they done got they own work, man

I was a poor, nigga
Now I'm a rich, nigga
Gettin' paper now you can't tell me shit, nigga
You can find me in the four-dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondlin' ya bitch, nigga

I was a poor, nigga
Now I'm a rich, nigga
Gettin' paper now you can't tell me shit, nigga
You can find me in the four-dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondlin' ya bitch, nigga

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): Curtis James Jackson, Michael J. Clervoix