50 Cент 9 Шоц

Fifty, fifty

Ferrari, Ferrari

Shooter, shooter

I was innocent then, I ain't do no wrong

She said, you mommy little man, I said, yep, uh huh

She was everything to me, when she came, I just lit up

Sunday morning I was so sharp, all did up

It was welfare hustlin', they killed her for that

The first shot, bullet wound in my back

I'm fucked up, look at my sneakers, I'm fucked up

Now I'm on my own, mommy gone

Sam said, you a young boy, why your clothes look so old?

You don't need fish, little nigga, you need a pole

You don't need no new kicks, you need an O

Chop that, bag it, get right back at it

That touched me, it hit me in my heart

I'm a hustler, homie, you was giving me my start

I am what I am, Sabrina's only baby

Practicing in the mirror, pulling out my .380…