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Artist: 50 Cent
Album:  Animal Ambition
Song:   Hold On
Typed by: 

[50 Cent]
I woke up this morning, this is insane
Rich as a motherfucker and ain't much change
Open my eyes, no suprise, I'm with a different bitch
Different day, different ass, different tits
Strap under my pillow, I don't want legit
I'm not supposed to do this shit but I forget
The true principles of life are supply and demand
Guess if you never sold dope it's hard to understand
My man got knowledge of self, at my back God
Find out today's mathematics when that Mac go off
My temper volatile, grew up a violent child
Fuck a boy scout - I air yo' ass out
Nigga nice chain, dice game, try your luck
Shoot a couple head cracks, leave you while you up
I'm a fly nigga, my denim vintage
Gold medal 'round my neck like I won the Olympics

We came from nothin, now they sayin we straight
Nigga hold up, hold on...
Hold on...
These niggaz they watchin every dime we make
Hold up, hold on...
Hold on...

[over Chorus]
You got that?
Let Yayo hold the strap son, it's cool
We got bail money, whatever
Y'all niggaz gotta chill
Just be cool about this shit, relax

[50 Cent]
We want that deluxe apartment in the sky with a clear view
Instead we get the D's in the rear view
We learn to play the game how it's supposed to be played
And so you know you violate you supposed to be sprayed
It's not a big deal to me, stay calm
I'll shoot the shit out a nigga then call the barrel Bonds
If I don't do this shit myself, bet I'll get it done
Shit on my nigga, you shit on me, we are one
Used to do graffiti, now look, we major
Don't make me write my name 'cross your face with a razor
Re-up, new joke, they said this sample the bomb
This shit can take a two then we cut the bitch with a one, uhh
Watch the fiends stand in line for the potency
No lactose involved, pure cocoa leaf
You can sniff that or cook that to my belief
That money comin in like we run the streets


[over Chorus]
That's a bet
Find my form better
Nigga you got a gamblin problem
I'm winnin, you losin
YOU got the gamblin problem
Yeah... yeah
What's up? What we doin?

[50 Cent]
This shit go how I say it go when it's time to expand
So say it's over your dead body and that's the plan
You a gangster for real, you ready to ride
Nigga you gon' die a bad case of too-much-pride
Check my DNA, homie I'm a different kind
Hit the speed dial that quick, I'll get ya lined
Won't want your block, just cop the work from us
Them niggaz you call allies can't be trust
That Roley all gold, I got the Midas touch
Sometimes it's hard as hell not to touch stuff
On the phone I heard Yay' smacked the shit out a kid
Now Jimmy got life, go smack him again
When it's war, it will be war to the bitter end
If they ever say we lose, I start it again
That sneaky nigga sprayed that semi at yo' momma crib
With a silencer, we couldn't even hear the shit


[over Chorus]
I don't fuck with them
Pssh, man, these niggaz is roaches man
Dirty ass niggaz
Boy you better be easy
I ain't playin wit'chu boy
Boy you must've bumped yo' motherfuckin head or somethin boy
I don't give a fuck about that old school shit
You talkin 'bout you got me fucked up nigga