Lyrics:



Artist: G-Unit

Album: Beg for Mercy

Song: G-Unit



[50 Cent]

Yeah!

50 Cent, Lloyd Banks, Young Buck

G-g-g-g-g-Unit!

Hahahah



[Verse 1 - Young Buck]

Vacate ya home, I come to break ya bones

America's nightmare (yeah!), we at it again (c'mon)

A Desert Eagle and a black mac-10

They'll never know what ha-penned

When we come through, them cowards don't want none

They screamin that they murderers but walkin with no guns

C'mere nigga, don't run and die where you standin

See I'm holdin on this cannon and your life I'm demandin

Put the pipes at your melon and brain's on the pavement

These niggaz is talkin, thinkin security gon' save them

Ain't no-body gonna speak when homicide pay a visit

Look you right in the eye and tell you "We don't know who did it"

Corrupting my street corner by shootin' at the police

The fiend's up all night, and the neighbors gettin no sleep

You better get used to it, you know how we do it

Shady/Aftermath, Interscope and G-Unit



[Chorus] *sung* {50 Cent}

We got action where you don't

Show up places where you won't

G-Unit! G-Unit! {G-g-g-g-g-Unit!}

(Geeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-Uuuu-oooo-Nit!)



[Verse 2 - 50 Cent]

Now I told y'all on my first Dre joint - I am lo=co

Better than so-so, game's in the chokehold

Dissin me's a no-no, I perfected the slow flow

In D.C. they dance the go-go, in LA they ride on lo-lo's

G-Unit in the house, oh no

You ain't ready, it's heavy, '65 Chevy

Old-school rollin, I'm holdin

Twenty inches spinnin from the beginnin, we winnin

Gained this masculinity pimpin we not pretendin

Drop-top, glock cocked, ready for the drama

Pistols pop, cop shot, I'm heavy with them llamas

Non-stop, make it hot, we on top regardless

You can be the hardest, we'll just be the smartest

I warn you not to start us, we not your average artists

My bitch is like a Goddess, when paparazzi spot us

It's flick after flick, same old shit that I kick

Hah hah!



[Chorus]



[verse 3 - Lloyd Banks]

Guess who's back motherfucker - gun and a clip

Ready to smack up on these suckers that's runnin they lip

You can try any one of my shoes on - none of 'em fit

Ya hundreds is shorter, I tell ya pops his son is a daughter

All I need is some cigars and a quarter

A couple cars and a lawyer

Comin packin a bitch, and I'll be back with a hit

I'm that sick, who the hell you thought it was?

I got expensive habits, I can afford it cuz

G-Unit's poppin and we perform in all the clubs

Niggaz be shovin and pushin now someone is gushin surprise

She's givin up the buns on the cushion, Sweatin and screamin

Suckin' me off the rest of the evenin and I'm leavin

On to the next city

Stash box in the bus so I can bring them tecs with me

I gotta focus, I'm gettin older

You niggas ain't gettin over

G-Unit!



[Chorus]



High-tech, niggaz