Poor Lil Rich
Title | Poor Lil Rich |
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Artist | 50 Cent |
Album | Get Rich or Die Tryin’ |
Release Date | 2003-02-06 |
Description | On this track 50 Cent looks back reminiscing at the point in his life when he was poor and broke with nothing, trying to make it in the streets to survive as he has now escaped to be where he is now from rags to riches. |
Lyrics | [Verse 1] I let my watch talk for me, my whip talk for me My gat talk for me, blaow, what up, homie? My watch saying "Hi shorty, we could be friends" My whip saying "Quit playing, bitch, get in" My earring saying "We can hit the mall together" Shorty, it's only right that we ball together I'm into bigger things, y'all niggas, y'all know my style Your wrist "bling bling", my shit "bling blaow" My pinky ring talk, it say "Fifty, I'm sick" That's why these niggas is on my dick Some hate me, some love my hits Flex my man, he gon' bump my shit See, I'm a liar, man, I really don't care (I don't care) I tell the hoes whatever they wanna hear You tryna play me, I'ma blaze you then My cross cost more than the crib your mamma raised you in [Hook] I was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit, nigga You can find me in the four-dot-six, nigga In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga Was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit, nigga You can find me in the four-dot-six, nigga In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga [Verse 2] New York niggas copy niggas like it's all good Fuck around, be Crip-walking in the wrong hood I'm fresh up out the slammer, I ain't no fucking bammer I'm from NY whoadie, but I know country grammar (Woo) See, me, I get it crunk, niggas go head and front I go and pop the trunk, come back, pull out and dump (Yeah) My money come in lumps, my pockets got the mumps You see me sitting on dubs, that's why you mad, chump (Uh-huh) Don't make me hit you up, these shells'll split you up I lay you down, the coroners'll come and get you up See, 50 play for keeps, and 50 stay with heat I can't go commercial, they love me in the street I'm real gutter, man; the hood love me, man Don't make me show up in your crib like bruh-man Locked up in a pen, I still do my thing CO screaming, "Shut the fuck up!" in the bing You might also like[Hook] I was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit, nigga You can find me in the four-dot-six, nigga In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga Was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit, nigga You can find me in the four-dot-six, nigga In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga [Verse 3] I'm in the Benz on Monday, a BM on Tuesday Range on Wednesday; Thursday, I'm in the hooptay Porsche on Friday, I do things my way Vipe or Vette, I tear up the highway (Woo!) Shawty, she could tell you 'bout my dick game (Yeah) But she don't know me, she only know my nickname Left the hood and came back, damn, shit changed These young boys, they done got they own work, man [Hook] I was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit, nigga You can find me in the four-dot-six, nigga In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga Was a poor nigga, now I'm a rich nigga Getting paper, now, you can't tell me shit, nigga You can find me in the four-dot-six, nigga In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga |