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I Need A Girl Pt. 2

This song is by 50 Cent.

Yo you know me I'm a straight-up nigga
So I tell a bitch exactly what I wanna do ya knah sayin'?
If I'm in a club and I'm tryin' to go home I'm like "Yo ma wassup"
Ya know get wit you ya know
I mean tonight tho, not like next month
None of dat other shit ya knah sayin'?
But you know every now and then I be lyin'
I ain't gonn front, I be lyin' to the hoes man
I can tell a bitch exactly what she wanna hear

(Verse 1 - 50 Cent)
I wanna be the reason you smile after you wipe ya tears
The reason you have the courage to confront ya fears
The reason there's 2 karats in each of ya ears
I'll splurge wit the paper ma, I don't care
How you like it, pumps or boots?
Jeeps or Coupes? Minks or leathers?
50 fall off never
What's mine is yours and what's yours is mine
'Cause when I shine, you shine c'mon
Fine champange, we can toast to life
Crap table in Vegas you could toss the dice
Don't let ya friends get you confused, sayin' "50 bad news"
I need you in my life girl, ya too much to lose

Ay Puffy stop makin' them muthafuckin "I miss J.Lo" records nigga
Yo Chi, turn this shit off man I ain't feelin' this shit right now
Put sum hard shit on

--Beats switches--

Yeah c'mon uh hahaha yo

(Chorus 2x - 50 Cent)
Nigga you won't deny that I'm a fuckin' rider
You don't wanna bump heads wit me
I'll put a hole in yo ass you'll see
That it ain't cool to fuck wit me

(Verse 2 - Tony Yayo)
G Unit... I roll wit gorillaz
Fuck a big bodyguard I hang wit pint-sized killers
I ain't tryin' to be dirty - still on the strip
I'm tryin' to be dirty - filthy rich
Give a nigga too much rope he think he a cowboy
Give him too much dope I'm pushin a big boy
V-12 XL detail
I rap and wait for dem checks in the mail
And if you hatin' in due time ya life will expire
'Cause my guns speak Jamaican they be like "Bloodfire!"
Where I'm from niggas be on sum sneak shit
When hungry use they lighters to cook they beef stick
And its dro and its Nestle, got me right
So my lungs be as black as Wesley Snipes
I'm on first class flights headed towards Vegas
Not slot machine niggas, we crap table playas
I roll a 7 'cause we crap table playas


(Verse 3 - Lloyd Banks)
I know alot of niggas want Banks gone
But my kinda beef'll fuck up ya grill and not the kind you put franks gone
I'm hot now so my meals is home-cooked
I deal wit more hoes than a Chinese phonebook
You hidin wit ya messed-up ratchets
I'm out blowin' haze bags the size of ketchup packets
Fuck Uz' in ya ride, this tool's on my side
Got females standin' wit tattoos on her thighs
Visualize cats losin they wives
'Cause the next time I see 'em they got black and blues on they eyes
Nah I ain't ready to die but I'm prepared
I'd rather grow old wit gray hairs in my bed
They know me in the field, the kid wit the fans
That argue over my balls like Kobe and Shaquille
If you talkin' bout millions throw me in the deal
Big city stadium tour roll me in the wheels muhfucka...