50 Cent and DJ Whoo Kid Lyrics
"The Banks Workout"

I Been problem since the old days pimps and gold caps
Now im in oj simpson throwbacks
Ya'll was wonderin where my ass been
Probally vacationin on south beach gettin head like ass
Breathin through gas i can let the tech pound ur ego
Lock you in the closet with the westnile mosquito
The press crowd the people espicially celebritys
Im heavily shittin on any tom dick or gregory
Nigga you better be strappin
They want you dead if you rappin
Im tryin to cave your head and your back in
Im gettin bread and relaxin
And attractin a fan base of females wit emails and letters to fax in
In vegas with a toaster n a blunt
And the hotel i checked in got a roller coaster in the front
Hollerin poster when i stunt the sammy sosa of the month
Better yet the hoe teas and nigga
Im still breathin even though my dollars are green
I rap for the kids thats to poor to waste eggs on halloween
Im gettin swallow clean
My habits are good collectin all the carrots i could
Slidin from the stash box to conceal extortion
And a good silencer to make it sound like the wheel of fortune
All this careless talkin cause im travelin and flossin
Havin a good time and u havin a abortion
You sucker for love gettin married and divorced than
You can't even afford the batteries for ur walkman
Man im out the hood burnin cali weed on slauson
When set trip can turn to tragedys and coffins, look
I mean what im sayin you schemin im sprayin ur team isnt playin
On the sofa screamin and and prayin sayin
Gunit niggas be rollin crazy holdin 80s older ladies starin
Cause they starin in that gold mercedes
Since 50 hooked up with shady
Now they tryin to brook up to pay me
If u think im sugar u crazy baby
The boy strapped two ninas
Smokin out a bag big enough to fit in vacuum cleaners
I wear a glove when i blaze a fatty
I ain't ur baby daddy, u flippin
Now he tryin to grab me out that navy caddie, i ain't ur avy
Poppa was a rollin stone
Stockin up the hona home
Pocket full of loaded chrome
Drop n get a hold a dome
I know ur motive homes
U mad cause im fuckin half ur motorolla phone
Im swift with the wemon im good wit my words, alota
Niggas is hatin on what i deserve im hotta
Front if u want end up on the curb in ur prada
And ur mans runnin ambulance come
Another day another dollar on the low from the impala
I can have a six some in my shower, mother fucka!