Artist: G-Unit Album: The Beauty of Independence Song: Digital Scale Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com [Chorus 2X: Tony Yayo] I put my coke on a digital scale I put my weed on a digital scale I put my dope on a digital scale It's time to re-up what my scale read [50 Cent] We got eightballs, sevens, fourteens, and O-Z's Sixty-two eighths of that raw, imported ki's Half a chicken, whole chicken, niggaz got to cop and GO Yo! I said you niggaz got to cop and go This is like fast food nigga, may I take your order? I require nothin cookin but baking soda and water Ice, cold! That's crack inside that Pyrex We get the work then move the work, the pressure we apply next Every now and then, a nigga set TRIP! I8 BMW, I'm elec-TRIC! Keep that hammer 'round me in case shit get hec-TIC! Shit pop off when I'm rhymin, I protect IT! Fuck around [Chorus] [Young Buck] Hand me that plastic bag right there Yayo Haha, yeah! Baggin up half a bricks, my lawyer sittin on the couch He said, "It's cool Buck, I swear I won't open my mouth" I weigh the bag on the triple-beam scale (yeah) I'm all kushed out, coke under my fingernail (always) My uncle been playin with that powder and I can tell You know that crack smell and he lookin all frail My sister need bail, she just caught a weed sale Now the Feds on her trail, I just got the e-mail Shit crazy~! But I'm still cookin up babies Hookin up my niggaz daily with this dope Get out and get some'in nigga, can't pay me if you're broke (nope) Let a nigga hang hisself, just give him enough rope I get it fresh off the boat [Chorus] [Tony Yayo] Yeah... numbers don't lie, scales don't either Every time you're out, fiends wanna reach ya Out with some bitches, fiends wanna call In the club with my niggaz, fiends wanna call When I'm waitin on them, man they never call The life of a hustler in a nutshell G-5 eatin snakes, soup and raw fish Snakes see the Ray Phantom off of raw fish My main bitch is like Bonnie Parker, my side bitch is like Clyde Barrow They start to shoot you up shit's creek without a paddle [Kidd Kidd] They roll up and smoke you like Kumar and Harold Catch 'em in the whip like Caine cousin Harold My nigga flippin on his P.O. cause he can't travel You owe me, I take your child for collateral Gun wave hello, shots echo Wan' save money, switch to Gecko You known from the get-go, I ain't 'bout to let no- -body play with my green when they coward belly yellow Polka-dot carbine on your chest, screamin "Hold on" Hold on, you see my face and let go I'm from the N.O., better check the death toll You was playin Casanov', cookin bitches casserole I was on the ave with O's, me and red taggin toes On the Greyhound bus, pounds in my bag of clothes Huh~! [Chorus]