I Don't Wanna Talk About It

[50 Cent]

I don't wan' talk about it (50)

Man I don't wanna talk about it (nah)

Man I don't wan' talk about it (yeah)

And I don't wanna talk about it (wooo-oooh!)

[Chorus: 50 Cent]

I make millions quick and I don't wan' talk about it

Nah I don't wanna talk about it

I shoot a nigga kid and I don't wan' talk about it

Nah I don't wanna talk about it

I fuck the baddest bitches, I don't wan' talk about it

Nah I don't wanna talk about it

I'm still flippin chickens, I don't wan' talk about it

Nah I don't wanna talk about it

[50 Cent]

These niggaz police

Go 'head, ask me what I'm ridin in so I can say the Enzo

My bitch roll down the window so I could feel the wind blow

Got big enough for me to fiddle on my kinfolk

Bitches with me cruisin, Moulin Rouge and

They fuckin and they strippin nigga, I ain't even trippin nigga

Me I handle business; God's my only witness

Watchin homicide, sayin "Who the fuck did this?"

Me I run the street mayne, so I keep the heat mayne

Sews what you reap, when you fuck with the elite mayne

I don't fuck around boy; you better ask around boy

I hit you with the pound, leave yo' ass on the ground

For, you poppin that bullshit, like I don't pull shit

Fully loaded clips and whips, get the grip, clip the bricks

Nigga we hittin licks, stickin shit, gettin rich

That's why my name ring bells all around this bitch

Any hood you go through they know 50 Cent (wooo-oooh!)

And I don't wanna talk about it (OHH!)

[Chorus]

[Tony Yayo]

Yeah, it's the kid nigga, yeah

Aiyyo, big money, my car got the big face (yeah!)

Forty-five, my belt got the big eights

Niggaz hate but I'm low seven star Caesar

For grimy niggaz tryin to line me like {?} preacher

You niggaz got the nerve, I'm at Johannesburg

With Mandela nephew blowin heavy herb

Then back to the projects, low from the task force

The dope spot's sellin more shit than Scott Storch

I'm tired of these pricks, lyin 'bout bricks

Got my can and my white, my tan like Mariah and Nick

Fly in the '60 U.F.O.

Unidentified flyin object on twenty-fo's

More money more hoes, more money more clothes

Smoke that AK-48, not bullshit 'dro (yeah)

I rock big arenas, not bullshit shows

And my pants three thousand, these ain't bullshit clothes (OHH!)

[Chorus]

[Lloyd Banks]

Nah, uhh

B-A, N-K, S-5, 5-oh

Or 6-8, M-G, tinted with my eyes low

Homie I'm a Tahoe, fully loaded nine blow

You see out on hydro, Luciano blind hoe

Loiue V offended me, {?} in my Bentley C

And weekends are the chills, I'ma fuck her 'til she empty

Empty on you if you front, 'til your passenger is stuck

Give your ass a brand new scar, in need of a brand new car

I ain't them I'm different baby, I talk, you listen baby

Listen and I'll show you, how money controls you

I'll put you in my old school, and let you pop the switch

Pocketful in every packet, that's why I'm poppin shit

I don't forgive I don't forget, what you said, where you flip

When you get hit, I hope that's it, pop-pop, all on your whip

I-I, be on that shit, I'm high, I'm on that piff

Bye-bye, you fuckin bitch, you ain't hot, you ain't rich

You a snitch!

[Chorus]