50 CENT Hold On song lyrics


[Produced by Charli Brown Beatz]

[Verse 1]
I woke up this morning, this is insane
Rich as a motherfucker, and ain't much changed
Open my eyes, no suprise, I'm with a different bitch
Different day, different ass, different tits

Strap under my pillow, I done went 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 and 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 your ass out

Nigga, nice chain, dice game, try your luck
Shoot a couple head cracks, leave while you're up

I'm a fly nigga, my denim vintage
Gold medal around my neck like I won the Olympics

We came from nothing, now they saying we straight
Nigga, hold up, hold on
Hold on
These niggas, they watching every dime we make
Hold up, hold on
Hold on

[Verse 2]
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 of a nigga, then call it Barrel Bonds
But, if I don't do this shit myself, bet I'll get it done
Shit on my nigga, you shit on me, we of one
Used to do graffiti, now look we major
Don't make me write my name across your face with a razor

Re-Up, new coke, they say this sample the bomb
This shit can take a two and we cut this bitch with a one
Watch the fiends stand in line for the potency

No lactose involved, pure coca leaf
You can sniff that or cook that to my belief

That money coming in like we run the streets


[Verse 3]
This shit go how I said, 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 gonna 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
We don't want your block, just cop your work from us
Those niggas you call allies can't be trust

That Rollie all gold, I got the Midas touch
Sometimes it's hard as hell not to touch stuff

On the phone I heard 'Ya smacked the shit outta a kid
Now Jimmy got life, gonna smack him again

When it's war, it'll be war to the bitter end
If they ever say we lose, I start it again

That sneaky nigga spray that Semi at your momma crib
With a silencer we couldn't even hear that shit
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