[Intro: 50 Cent]
Hey Em, you know you my favorite white boy, right? (Hahaha)
I owe you for this one
[Chorus: 50 Cent]
I been patiently waitin' for a track to explode on (Yeah)
You can stunt if you want and your ass'll get rolled on (It's 50)
And it feels like my flow's been hot for so long (Yeah)
If you thinkin' I'ma fuckin' fall off, you're so wrong (It's 50)
[Verse 1: 50 Cent]
I'm innocent in my head, like a baby born dead
Destination heaven, sit and politic with passengers from 9/11 (Yeah)
The Lord's blessings leave me lyrically inclined (Uh-huh)
Shit, I ain't even got to try to shine (Woo)
God's the seamstress that tailor-fitted my pain
I got scriptures in my brain, I could spit at your dame
Straight out the good book, look, niggas is shook
50 fear no man, warrior, swing swords like Conan
Picture me, pen in hand, writin' lines knowin' The Source'll quote it
When I die, they'll read this and say a genius wrote it
I grew up without my pops, should that make me bitter?
I caught cases, I copped out, does that make me a quitter?
In this white man's world, I'm similar to a squirrel
Lookin' for a slut with a nice butt to get a nut
If I get shot today, my phone'll stop ringin' again
These industry niggas ain't friends, they know how to pretend
Hey Em, you know you my favorite white boy, right? (Hahaha)
I owe you for this one
[Chorus: 50 Cent]
I been patiently waitin' for a track to explode on (Yeah)
You can stunt if you want and your ass'll get rolled on (It's 50)
And it feels like my flow's been hot for so long (Yeah)
If you thinkin' I'ma fuckin' fall off, you're so wrong (It's 50)
[Verse 1: 50 Cent]
I'm innocent in my head, like a baby born dead
Destination heaven, sit and politic with passengers from 9/11 (Yeah)
The Lord's blessings leave me lyrically inclined (Uh-huh)
Shit, I ain't even got to try to shine (Woo)
God's the seamstress that tailor-fitted my pain
I got scriptures in my brain, I could spit at your dame
Straight out the good book, look, niggas is shook
50 fear no man, warrior, swing swords like Conan
Picture me, pen in hand, writin' lines knowin' The Source'll quote it
When I die, they'll read this and say a genius wrote it
I grew up without my pops, should that make me bitter?
I caught cases, I copped out, does that make me a quitter?
In this white man's world, I'm similar to a squirrel
Lookin' for a slut with a nice butt to get a nut
If I get shot today, my phone'll stop ringin' again
These industry niggas ain't friends, they know how to pretend
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