Tekstovi: 50 Cent. No Mercy, No Fear. Whoo Kid.

[50 Cent talking] You want beef wit me? take a number, and get in line [Hook] You mad at me? Shit cause you can't shine You ain't gettin' yours? thats fucked up cause I'm gettin' mine You bump heads wit me? I pop ya top off wit the nine [50 Cent] I got a M1 in my hand, I'm feelin' to start killin' shit I'm not the nation's new Malcolm X, but I'm militant What, I'm supposed to be scared cause you got a big chest? My four fifth will lift you and your motherfuckin' bench press Why you screamin' war senseless, I'm tryin' to spaz Niggas get hugged up in the huddle, I know how to clear 'em out Swing my knife, tore break it off in yo ass Four fifth, four shots, that'll fuckin' air 'em out In the hood niggas love me cause I keep it real Whether it's two G's or twenty G's G-Unit niggas, they gon' always make bail Whether or not wit two pieces or two keys Bitch please, get on ya knees you can lick these balls I'm not that nigga that you striptease for You gotta a problem or anger nigga to call [Hook] Cause I'm out like a pimp and a trick, bitch! You want beef wit me? take a number, get in line You bump heads wit me? I pop ya top off wit the nine You mad at me? Shit cause you can't shine You ain't get yours? That's fucked up cause I'm gettin' mine [50 Cent talks till end]