300 Shots

Album cover art for "300 Shots" by DJ Whoo Kid & 50 Cent & Lloyd Banks & Tony Yayo & Young Buck & M.O.P. & Mobb Deep

DJ Whoo Kid & 50 Cent & Lloyd Banks & Tony Yayo & Young Buck & M.O.P. & Mobb Deep - Rap, Hardcore Rap

300 Shots

6.4K Plays

View Album

Lyrics

[Verse 1: 50 Cent] Yeah.... Y'all niggas spend too much time watchin' flicks Who you wanna be? Tony Montana n shit? Well you can start, right before his ass get hit But when I walk up you can see the shotgun spit Ferrari roof go down, Lam doors go up I got big boy toys, when you gon' grow up? Nigga knick knack pattywack, give a dog a bone I'm still down to sell crack out a fiends home God bless the child with a flawless flow Say gave a nigga the talent to push blow Like a pimp watch a hoe, I watch the grams go Watch the stash grow, straight cash flow I'm a hundred time bigger than Preme in his prime 100 mill in my account and I'm still on the grind When you ain't in my clique, it's hard to shine I mean talent like this is so hard to find G-Unit! [Verse 2: Tony Yayo] I don't dream now that I'm livin, I'm out to get it My truck an ak can hit it I'm a rap tycoon, I was fly in the whom So I'm gettin ass like a public bathroom I went from Rikers Island, to shows at the garden Automatic startin' in the drop got your bitch pussy fartin My album about to drop in 7 days But I still poke a rapper at the VMA's Kilo's in a gram, po's be my fans That's why I'm overseas doin shows in Japan I got Gats from the future, see-through guns So when my bullets leave the chamber I can see you run Nigga I flip my advance before I ran through it 'cause that money turn haters into that barmen fluid My dope be a 8, from a 1 to 10 Keepin in a cool place from Uncle Ben [Verse 3: Young Buck] A country nigga still lookin' for a New York hoe About to kill these niggas with this New York flow Say one nigga name homie you gon' go You in that Hot97 so New York know I use to listen to Jada I've never listened to Joe I couldn't tell ya how now one of his verses go Seen Styles and Sheek out, doin promo I was like "What Up?" and they was like "Uh-Oh!" I ain't just get cold, see my block been hot 50 give me the word, niggas would have been pop Fuck a interview nigga I get into you nigga Enough hearin' 'bout what you finna do nigga [Verse 4: Prodigy] Murder at it's best, this is rap at it's finest You can see my verse, even if you the blindest My raps is vivid, ya bitch I hit it All ready, yeah that's right this is spaghetti Head mob niggas, my gun bomb niggas Go 'head and shoot, my pistol nuke niggas When I let off the whole Earth feel the effects I mix cd's and treat 'em like album shit Our albums, we treat 'em like the president elections On our champagne campaign livin' up dresses On the dance flo' the Hennessee it flow When you fuck with G-Unit then you gon' fuckin' blow When you fuck with Mobb Deep, then bring some fuckin' hoes 'cause it's a gang of us and we ready to go 'cause after the party after the party we get so drunk We forget all about the next day hun [Verse 5: Havoc] Get it teflon don, ak-filled Get your mouth blown off like the hand that feeds you Yeah little motherfucker put the hammer in diesel G-Unit, game over, this is only a preview Niggas shittin' on theyself gotta rock in the huggy The coke in the pot rise to the top like dougy Got chicks with a ass like Buffy, yes homie trust me Plays fuck me, kick 'em out when they try to get touchy Qb/Southside, if you wanted to Trestle Man your man is hot, you don't wanna get next to Like 50's beef is mine and mine is his See this serious, motherfuckin ask them kids Niggas wild on the streets, scared to death to bid Sell anything that stay from the bottles and cuffs, nigga butt [Verse 6: Billy Danze] You about to witness an M. O. P thug out And for you niggas hatin' listen to the sounds of the Unit kiss my ass with your tongue out, nigga Fuck a warden I ring bells like a doorman So all you motherfuckers take it easy like sunday mornin (Get 'em up!) Put 'em up, wrap ya hand or knuckle up Ground zero we never ran never will we fuck 'em up Dude you gonna get your ass banged fuckin' with that homie Lloyd Banks Wild gun style what the fuck y'all think.. [Verse 7: Lloyd Banks] Niggas ain't got nuttin' on me (Uh-uh), aybody know that (Yeah) Niggas run up on a V, aybody gon' clap And if he ain't what he say, n aybody gon' rat You just rap, and catch your little body on waxs I'ma Mack, I don't hang out with no lobby for rats (Nah) They come swallow me back off Bacardi and Yack (Yeah) I'm in the club with the snub 'cause the party's a trap And a stray from the K'll take a part of ya hat I'm gettin cake like you wouldn't believe but I'm accepted By mainstream America and good in the p's (Hello) Now niggas wan' talk all greasy (Why?) Like they ain't used to open up for me in New York on TV (You know) Skip all chatter, and walk off easy (Uh) A milly'll make your body builder look all measly (See?) Ya bitch spotted me on the dolo and in a low-low (Uh) Damn near broke a monolo for a photo (Uh) I ain't ridin' around with a Dodo that's a No-No (Uh) Momma taught me better than that you go to go ho (Yea!) Look at me now, a product of poverty (Yea!) I can't wash it away I got it inside of me (Yea!) The hood's fulla hurt, blood dollars and robbery (Yea!) The critics owe me an apology and probably (Uh) (Geah!) A sixteen away from the lottery (Uh huh) (You know) Cause caked up is one of the things I gotta be (Gotta get mine) I'm wrapped up in a dumb shit (Why?) cause nigga got all kinds of beef they want you to come get (Uh) I'm two-steppin' with my weapon, 'cause they don't check 'em (Uh) (Nah) I know niggas from 'round there and they don't rec him (They don't know you) All of them niggas was fans when I met 'em (Uh huh) just waitin' in the wind for niggas to come and get 'em (Geah) On my next album, I'ma have some fun wit' 'em (Yea) Spank 'em all around 'till everybody forget 'em They envy, 'cause I got the hood in a frenzy And I move (Uh) smooth (Uh) with the wood (Uh) in a Benzy (Yea!) Blend in, niggas'll body you for a Benji (Uh-huh) Baby need food, baby momma need Fendi (Yeah!) You know me, New York cap on Batman whip that I got off a rap song (Uh) On the van [?] with the weed and a strap on (Uh) Teflon on a wife beater N black on, it's on! [Outro: 50 Cent Talking] Wassup? This the kid 50 Cent, man Its going down, ya heard me? Niggas got me mad, I told, ya'll niggas got me all fucked up, man I'm finna kill a few of you muhfuckers, man You know I'm sayin'? Want ya'll niggas to say somethin' smart out ya mouth, boy You better stop usin' ya mouth, before I help you not be able to use ya mouth, motherfucker

Rate this song

Rate this song

0/5.0 - 0 Ratings

5
0.0% (0)
4
0.0% (0)
3
0.0% (0)
2
0.0% (0)
1
0.0% (0)

Loading comments...

Credits

Writers
  • Billy Danze
  • Havoc
  • Young Buck
  • Prodigy
  • Lloyd Banks
  • Tony Yayo
  • 50 Cent