Body Bags Lyrics - The Kanan Tape - 50 Cent

Nigga, (yeah), nigga, you know I don't fuck with them niggas. Them niggas pussy. Sucka ass niggas. I don't like either one (I don't even like 'em). But the other night I'm in the gambling spot. Nigga come up in here - boom - hit the door. "Get the fuck on the floor, bitch, get down on the floor." I turn around like, "what?" Niggas like, "get down!" (When was this?) I'm like, "nigga, I got on white linen." 

Fuck it, I mean we gotta kill what we eat, right? It's not a problem, it's really not a problem. Southside 

Okay, the dope addin' up, the coke addin' up 

The smoke addin' up, my pockets are fattened up 

I got bitches in my bedroom, nerds on computers 

Diamonds 'round my neck, straps for my shooters 

I made it, look ma', I made it 

I grind so hard to get here I can't be faded 

I got lawyers on the line, five different kinds 

Five different crimes, same .45 

Got a plan to turn to premise, see, a nigga ain't lyin' 

Cause they ain't gon' say I did it and I ain't gon' say I did it 

And I might go back and forth to court, better bet I get acquitted 

Can you dig it? Nigga, can you dig it? 

Shit changed, a nigga ain't broke 

I had a safe size as a shoe box, it felt like a vault 

Now I got real money, that "fuck how you feel" money 

That "nigga, you look at me wrong, get killed" money 

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You gon' be part of my body bag ritual 

Hop out, hammer out to get at you 

You gon' be part of my body bag ritual 

.45 lettin' off some shit at you 

You gon' be put in a body bag 

You won't get a chance to fire back 

I peep my swag in the mirror, I think I got a crush on me 

I don't want no wack bitches touchin' me 

Tailor-made threads, satin sheets on my bed 

Get a bitch sea-sick, waves all on my head 

Diamonds in my ear, Baccarat chandelier 

Gabbana underwear, I'm so fly it ain't fair 

Every day a different dime piece 

Rose Gold, a different time piece 

Hublot, AP or rollie 

Your bitch and your jeweler know me, homie 

I'm bulletproof, go 'head, take a shot at me 

You be a dead nigga like the last one that got at me 

My shirt level three so I ain't got a vest on 

My heart like ice, my chest like teflon 

I'm a nightmare right here, just me and my knife, nigga 

Don't let me find out you ain't 'bout that life, nigga 

It's doomsday, I mean goon day 

I get the orders, like, "air out the room, Dre" 

Photos 

You gon' be part of my body bag ritual 

Hop out, hammer out to get at you 

You gon' be part of my body bag ritual 

.45 lettin' off some shit at you 

You gon' be put in a body bag 

You won't get a chance to fire back 

The mileage had a shorty ass trippin' strippin' in my kitchen 

Push my thumb in her ass while I was strokin' her kitten 

I be in my own zone, still clutchin' the chrome 

Talk state of the art, [?] 

My passport need pages, I'm fuckin' round' out in London 

Jetlag from jets, wrist lit baguettes 

Trippin' in my charm, look bitch, I'm a don 

So shit go how I say it go, fuck if I'm right or wrong 

My paper long, bomb kush in the bong 

It feels like I'm dreamin' cause a nigga on 

I'm so far from a hammy down, I'm out in Miami now 

My bitch no speak no ingles, she fresh off the boat 

She give me neck, what you expect? I got connects for the dope 

I'm no joke, blow 30k on the coke, stuff ten in the coat 

Nigga, front, I'll have a hand full of dreadlocks 

Bitch, I hit your ass with a headshot 

You gon' be part of my body bag ritual 

Hop out, hammer out to get at you 

You gon' be part of my body bag ritual 

.45 lettin' off some shit at you 

You gon' be put in a body bag 

You won't get a chance to fire back