Poor Lil Rich 50 Cent
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Poor Lil Rich" by 50 Cent. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Verse 1]
I let my watch talk for me, my whip talk for me
My gat talk for me, blaow, what up, homie?
My watch saying, "Hi, shorty, we could be friends" (Woo)
My whip saying, "Quit playin', bitch, get in" (Bitch)
My earring saying, "We can hit the mall together"
Shorty, it's only right that we ball together
I'm into bigger things, y'all niggas, y'all know my style
Your 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 a liar, man, I really don't care (I don't care)
I tell the hoes whatever they wan' hear
You tryna play me, I'ma blaze you then
My cross cost more than the crib your mama raised you in
[Chorus]
I was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper, now you can't tell me shit, nigga
You can find me in the four-dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga
Was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper, now you can't tell me shit, nigga
You can find me in the four-dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga
I let my watch talk for me, my whip talk for me
My gat talk for me, blaow, what up, homie?
My watch saying, "Hi, shorty, we could be friends" (Woo)
My whip saying, "Quit playin', bitch, get in" (Bitch)
My earring saying, "We can hit the mall together"
Shorty, it's only right that we ball together
I'm into bigger things, y'all niggas, y'all know my style
Your 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 a liar, man, I really don't care (I don't care)
I tell the hoes whatever they wan' hear
You tryna play me, I'ma blaze you then
My cross cost more than the crib your mama raised you in
[Chorus]
I was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper, now you can't tell me shit, nigga
You can find me in the four-dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga
Was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper, now you can't tell me shit, nigga
You can find me in the four-dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga
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