Lyrics: 50 Cent. Other. The Paper (I Get It).

[Chorus:]
Bartender bring the bottles of Roseee, (yeah!)
That bitch like me but IIII don't give a - FUCK!
Rich nigga smelling like good weeeed,
Crush the hashish, look IIII don't a - FUCK!
I'm so grimeyyy. (uh-huh!) - They can't line meee. (hahaaa!)
The paper I geeet it, the paper I geeeet it! (whoooooooooo-whhhhhooooooooooooooooo!)

[Verse 1:]
Yeah! - What the fuck nigga? I - rock - like I got
That style, that'll keep me forever on top.
Bitch my - drop - top, make niggas
Feel like there's somethin' wrong with their hustle. (their hustle!)
I'm eating. - I suggest you niggas try this! (yeeah!)
Scrap the plate, move the weight I got the itus. (uh!)
I'm sick. - I'm addicted to the dough (hahaaa!)
You take a hit of how this feel, you want mo'? (what?)
It's sorta like what crack did to Pookie - in "New Jack",
What's up when I cross over? - There ain't no coming back! (c'mon!)
Take a hit of this. - This is what I've been cooking
Perfect product. - Customer good looking. (whooo!)
This trip, this flip. - I'm a get the count right.
Do my numbers, man, why your baker count light? (uh-huh!)
That work you put out, that was stepped on
My shit raw dope. - Pur heroin!

[Chorus (Interlude in the backgroung):]
Bartender bring the bottles of Roseee, (I need y'all to raise your classes!)
A bitch who like me but IIII don't give a (Let's toast...) - FUCK!
Rich niggas smelling like good weeeed, (to more success...)
Crash the hashish, look IIII don't a (more love and more life!) - FUCK!
I'm so grimeyyy. (It's 50!) - They can't line meee. (In case your forgot...)
The paper I geeet it, the paper I geeeet it! (I'm nice! Yeah.)

[Verse 2:]
Here it is nigga; 1000 grams of uncut (yeeah!)
Take it off, consignment fuck up and you're fucked! (uhh!)
This is certified hood shit, ghetto gold good shit, (c'mon!)
Sniff a line of this! - Take a pull of that! (c'mon!)
This is fact, either which way you hiding that (hahaaa!)
I've been here before, it's so familiar. (yeah!)
Bag up, fill up the para-familiar, (fuck with me!)
I wanna win so bad nigga I kill ya!
Get in the way, this 6 spray, I'm bad news.
Denzel when the trumpet blow, more better blues.
It's psychotic; my flows are narcotic, (uh!)
Tell me how you want it my nigga, I got it (yeah!)
For days - that money give goose bumps
My pockets swollen. - Two lumps!
Count it all, 10 c, no cent a dime
You know me; you know I got a hell of a grind. (grind!)

[Chorus:]
Bartender bring the bottles of Roseee, (There's nothing to it!)
A bitch who like me but IIII don't give a - FUCK!
Rich niggas smelling like good weeeed, (I can smell a hater!)
Crash the hashish, look IIII don't a - FUCK!
I'm so grimeyyy. (You know what this is...) - They can't line meee. (GG-GG!)
The paper I geeet it, the paper I geeeet it! (GG-GG!)

[Outro:]
Yeeah.
G-UNIT!
This is therapy for me, man.
I just gotta focus on my art...
I'm a' artist!
You can appreciate it...
Like you appreciate... a Picasso.
Or Andrew Warhol.
You should love me!
When you look at me...
You should say: "This is precious."
"This is a' abstrait."
"This is marvelous."
"This is a work of art."
"This is 50! "
Till next time.
GG-GG- G-Unit!