50 Cent – Poor Lil Rich

50 Cent, an incredibly and renowned American rapper comes out with another melodious record which is titled “Poor Lil Rich”.

This intriguing record which appeared as Track 13 on his top charting album project called “Get Rich or Die Tryin” was officially released on 6 February 2003.

We would like you to add this undeniable hit song to your playlist, you won’t regret it yuh.

Listen up below!.

DOWNLOAD 50 Cent Poor Lil Rich MP3

LYRICS

I let my watch talk for me, my whip talk for me

My gat talk for me, blow, what up, homie?

My watch saying “Hi shorty, we can 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

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-six, nigga

In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga

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 up out the trunk, come back, roll out, I’m done (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 will split you up

I lay you down, the coroners will 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

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-six, nigga

In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga

I’m in the Benz on Monday, a BM on Tuesday

Range Rov’ 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’ll tell you I’m ’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

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-six, nigga

In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga