50 Cent

Financial Freedom
[Verse 1] Nigga, this is not a fictional tale, this shit real Who’s sittin’ in the Bookings? Charged, direct sale Third shootout… who was fightin’ for positions? Shell casings out my 9 flyin’ through your mama kitchen Paper we stack it, yeah, pistols we pack it You fuck around, we’ll blow your heart out the back of your jacket Bitch, get down or lay down, my work is that chach ‘Cause he got big, now he lieutenant so he sit there and watch I swear to God I think I had the same vision that K had Woke up sayin’ “we gon’ turn them corners to Baghdad” Yeah, we was young, but we had guns, we started juxing niggas All you hear is Boo-Boo fuckin’ with them Brooklyn niggas I had supreme schemes, call it Wall thoughts Start shootin’, I bet I’ll clear off the ball court I want it all, that’s just how I fuckin’ feel, boy Get in the way, you gon’ take you a trip to Deramores [Hook] I’m dreamin’ of… My dream of freedom… Financial freedom [Verse 2] This is to big bags of bread and some coke, nigga You can get with the program, fam’ll get smoked, nigga Letras de cancionesWe was a school of sharks - a bunch of young soldiers Open your head when you’re half dead – you see? I told you On the island, got that burner, got the flamethrower A couple niggas got blown, I got my name known Over the phones, soon as I’m home, the game’s sewn I got connections – look, bitch, I’m connected And I ain’t givin’ niggas no passes, so respect it Or get dealt with, I’ll break you off proper You ready to die, huh? Too much Big Poppa Easy – nigga chill or get laid out I’ll put a hole in you then find out what your gang ‘bout I do my dirt, I’m hardly ever by my lonely I got that tek with that cooling system on me, You think you want it, you don't want it with me homie [Hook] I’m dreamin’ of… My dream of freedom… Financial freedom [Verse 3] We stackin’ paper ‘til we strong then we takin’ over Grab a gat, bring the crack back with baking soda Bridge the gap, get slapped, actin’ like you know us North Pole, nah, Southside produce the colas We’re the last of our litter, this is what they taught us We’ve got to kill what we eat, that nigga came up on us If you ain’t gamblin’, get the fuck out the spot, boy Shoot an ace off your foot, that’s some shit you should get shot for Fuck it, when I win I’m a winner – when I lose, I’m a winner ‘Cause to my niggas y’all niggas lookin’ like steak dinner You screw your face the fuck up, you goin’ through what? The strap big enough in my truck to chew your crew up Nigga stand down or get manned down Mack, two clips, 30 rounds plus 30 rounds, flip it around You gon’ fuck around and get jammed up, blammed up Hit your spine, a standup nigga can’t even stand up [Hook] I’m dreamin’ of… My dream of freedom… Financial freedom From Letras Mania