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Eye for Eye歌词
  • 歌手:G-Unit
    歌词出处:http://www.5nd.com
    :



    Artist: G-Unit

    Album: Beg for Mercy

    Song: Eye for Eye





    Yeah, I like the way this feel

    This make me wanna just (G-G-G-G, G-Unit!)

    Buck somethin, hahaha (G-UNIT!)





    Nigga you shit on me, I shit on you

    You put a hit on me, I put a hit on you

    An eye for an eye nigga

    Survive the shots or die nigga



    Get 'em Banks!





    They can't hold me

    I'm Lloyd Banks the one and on-ly

    Not your buddy, not your pal, not your ho-mey

    But ain't a government around that can control me

    Oh no!!!





    Uhh, I'm on that "Doggystyle" shit, man I don't love a hoe

    Poppa wasn't 'round, so I had to let my brother know

    Never stay at center, play the back and let your money grow

    Most them niggaz wouldn't be around if you was bummy yo

    Southside Jamaica neighbor yeah that's where I come from

    If you see a nigga with me then there's more than one gun

    Fly straight soldier, ain'tcha tired of bein the dumb one

    Or are you satisfied bein another nigga's Dun-Dunn

    We all know friendships turnin sour when you gettin it

    Some niggaz hate me in the hood, but I don't owe them niggaz shit

    Smilin all up my face like I don't know them niggaz sick

    But I can care less, I'm on the Island and I'm gettin rich









    Walk it and talk it, spit it how I live it nigga

    Came from the country, Dirty South get it nigga

    Feds try and question me, they run up in my ho-tel

    They said there was a shootin, but they found no shells

    New York City hell they throwin niggaz under jails

    I got love for dem and I ain't even from dere

    Now bust a shot for dem boys on da block

    I can feel your pain nigga, I'm still in the game nigga

    There's somethin bout the sound of a trey-pound

    That make me pull up, hop out, and make a nigga lay down

    See every time we 'round, you hear some shots go off

    And niggaz get they chains snatched when they tryin to show off

    Shootouts in broad day, we do it the mob way

    And come to find out, these niggaz softer than Sade'

    I'ma keep livin my life with a pistol in my palm

    And a wrist full of ice, you can call me a Don motherfucker





    We got the Hei-ny

    So make one wrong move and you're dy-ing

    Ain't no time for coppin a plea and cry-ing

    Cause my niggaz ain't gon' stop ridin'

    So you gone









    I got a handgun habit, nigga front I'll let you have it

    When the shots go off, cops sayin 50 back at it

    I'm allergic to the feathers on these bird-ass niggaz (yea)

    Front and I'll put your brains on that curb fast nigga

    I ain't a marksman, one spark and I spray shit

    Nuff rounds from that H-K, I don't play bitch (uh-huh)

    Move like I'm militant, back on that gorilla shit

    Moody, disrespectful, unruly, but niggaz can't move me (yea)

    I squeeze 'til I run out of ammo, if it's a problem it's handled

    I have your people pourin our liquor and lightin candles

    You fuck around I blow your brains on my New York Times

    Run home, turn to the sports section and read your mind

    It's crystal clear, you should feel when that gat bust

    First there's crime scene tape, then you end up in that black hearse

    We don't go to funerals, but we'll go to your wake fam

    Do your body all banged up, you made a mistake man







  • :



    Artist: G-Unit

    Album: Beg for Mercy

    Song: Eye for Eye



    [50 Cent]

    Yeah, I like the way this feel

    This make me wanna just (G-G-G-G, G-Unit!)

    Buck somethin, hahaha (G-UNIT!)



    [Chorus: 50 Cent]

    Nigga you shit on me, I shit on you

    You put a hit on me, I put a hit on you

    An eye for an eye nigga

    Survive the shots or die nigga



    [50] Get 'em Banks!



    [Verse One: Lloyd Banks - singing]

    They can't hold me

    I'm Lloyd Banks the one and on-ly

    Not your buddy, not your pal, not your ho-mey

    But ain't a government around that can control me

    Oh no!!!



    [rapping]

    Uhh, I'm on that "Doggystyle" shit, man I don't love a hoe

    Poppa wasn't 'round, so I had to let my brother know

    Never stay at center, play the back and let your money grow

    Most them niggaz wouldn't be around if you was bummy yo

    Southside Jamaica neighbor yeah that's where I come from

    If you see a nigga with me then there's more than one gun

    Fly straight soldier, ain'tcha tired of bein the dumb one

    Or are you satisfied bein another nigga's Dun-Dunn

    We all know friendships turnin sour when you gettin it

    Some niggaz hate me in the hood, but I don't owe them niggaz shit

    Smilin all up my face like I don't know them niggaz sick

    But I can care less, I'm on the Island and I'm gettin rich



    [Chorus]



    [Verse Two: Young Buck]

    Walk it and talk it, spit it how I live it nigga

    Came from the country, Dirty South get it nigga

    Feds try and question me, they run up in my ho-tel

    They said there was a shootin, but they found no shells

    New York City hell they throwin niggaz under jails

    I got love for dem and I ain't even from dere

    Now bust a shot for dem boys on da block

    I can feel your pain nigga, I'm still in the game nigga

    There's somethin bout the sound of a trey-pound

    That make me pull up, hop out, and make a nigga lay down

    See every time we 'round, you hear some shots go off

    And niggaz get they chains snatched when they tryin to show off

    Shootouts in broad day, we do it the mob way

    And come to find out, these niggaz softer than Sade'

    I'ma keep livin my life with a pistol in my palm

    And a wrist full of ice, you can call me a Don motherfucker



    [Interlude: singing]

    We got the Hei-ny

    So make one wrong move and you're dy-ing

    Ain't no time for coppin a plea and cry-ing

    Cause my niggaz ain't gon' stop ridin'

    So you gone



    [Chorus]



    [Verse Three: 50 Cent]

    I got a handgun habit, nigga front I'll let you have it

    When the shots go off, cops sayin 50 back at it

    I'm allergic to the feathers on these bird-ass niggaz (yea)

    Front and I'll put your brains on that curb fast nigga

    I ain't a marksman, one spark and I spray shit

    Nuff rounds from that H-K, I don't play bitch (uh-huh)

    Move like I'm militant, back on that gorilla shit

    Moody, disrespectful, unruly, but niggaz can't move me (yea)

    I squeeze 'til I run out of ammo, if it's a problem it's handled

    I have your people pourin our liquor and lightin candles

    You fuck around I blow your brains on my New York Times

    Run home, turn to the sports section and read your mind

    It's crystal clear, you should feel when that gat bust

    First there's crime scene tape, then you end up in that black hearse

    We don't go to funerals, but we'll go to your wake fam

    Do your body all banged up, you made a mistake man



    [Chorus]



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