Song Lyrics
8 Mile Road (G-Unit Remix) lyrics
(feat. Lloyd Banks, Tony Yayo)

This rap shit plays a major part in my life
So if you jeapordize it I got the right
To send a motherfucker at you tonight
G-Unit!
And I ain t stoppin to my clique poppin
Swimmin in barrels of money
Ma could walk around wit her head up cause her child ain t a dummy
It s funny, niggas rather see you sufferin and hungry
I m comfy as hell, skatin wit another nigga s money
You lying ya ass off, you know you ain t that tough
I m pullin your mask off as soon as you act up
You know what I came for, a piece of da game or
Artillery that s about as long as a chainsaw (Lloyd Banks!)
I m wide awake, but it still feels like I m dreamin
Forty cal. under my pillow, condom feelin my semen
The physical presence of a females, the form of a demon
That s why, I fuck em and leave em
Get my nut while I m breathin
Cause they thought they d catch me slippin , now I m duckin and trippin
That s a thousand dollar outfit what the fuck is you rippin ?
You trippin , on records could get my ass in position
Death wish for no religion whether Catholic or Christian
Listen, I went through mama bitching in and out the kitchen
With probable causes, papa was in and out of prison
You got soldiers, but you still gotta respect ours
We got more four five s and nines than a deck of cards

[Tony Yayo]
You can take me out the hood, but can t take the hood out me ( Cause what?)
Cause I m ghetto, I m ghetto
Niggas hate when you do good
But when you broke, your friends and your enemies
They love you, they love you
"Cheche, get the YAYO"
Picture me being crack, out of town, trips on the train
"Cheche, get the YAYO"
Picture me being crack (Tony Yayo!)
You can sniff me, cut me, I ll turn you to a junkie
I m the number one seller in the whole fuckin country
Wall street niggas, they cop me on the low
White boys don t call me coke, they call me blow
It s time to go, on the bus, the train, the plane
I m smuggled, I m nothin but trouble
I ll make your money double
Cook me in baking soda
I ll turn your Hooprock into a new Range Rover
I ll pay all your bills and fill your frigerator
Feed your family, turn your man to a hater
You can put me in your door panels or your stash box
Put me in your Nik s, Timbs or Reeboks
If you cop three and a half you hustlin backwards
Cop a hundred grams, you movin forwards
I m tryin to move more birds
...In PA all day, on the corner of Third (NIGGA WHAT!)

[50 Cent]
You can take me out the hood, but can t take the hood out me (what?)
Cause I m ghetto, I m ghetto
Picture me polishin pistols, I m comin to get you
When shells hit you, you screamin
Think I m playin ? I mean it
Man, I done bought all these pistols
Lets get it poppin
Start to wavin my M1, shell cases get TO droppin (C mon)
If death is round the corner, I got too much pride to hide
I m outside, gun in my pocket, you stuntin I ll stop it
I m dyin to pop it, I m young and I m restless, you wanna contest us
As the world turns, there s lessons to be learned
Count all my blessing s, clean up my weapons
I m ready for war, the strong survive, the weak shall parish
I told you before, hoes they compliment me now like "50 nice chain"
Malasio, twenty grand in chips at a dice game
Ballin out, can t stop gotta watch MTV, bet
Nigga you see me!
I wonder if you mad, cause I m doin good
or cause niggas feelin me more than you in your own hood
And it hurts cause you love em and they don t love you back
cause they know you just rappin and you don t bust ya gat
You pussy

Yeah, explain it to niggas in your hood nigga
They know you fuckin frontin nigga
Talkin that gangsta shit on a record, I see you nigga
Niggas know me nigga, ask around in my hood nigga
Read the "Daily News" nigga you see them talkin about me nigga
I m in the middle of all kinds of shit
Pussy, lets get it poppin
Song Lyrics