Ain't from the streets of Compton Ain't from no prison yard Ain't got no guns or weapons Hell, nigga, I ain't hard
I'd rather help than fight you I'd rather hug than swing I know where diamonds come from And ain't about to bling
Ain't got no fancy car I can't afford my rent Ain't even got my own style Sometimes I'm 50 Cent
But I ain't got no bullets And I ain't bullet proof And you can take your aim But you can't kill the truth
Ay, yo, untie that noose Son, we ain't free, we're loose I'm sleeping on the floor Above your party's burning roof
And when that party's through Here's what you need to do Just hold that mic right to your heart And hear the beat of you
I got a heart beat produced by God And, boy, it sounds hard I got heart beat produced by God And, boy, it sounds hard
I got a heart beat produced by God And, boy, it sounds hard I got heart beat produced by God And, boy, it sounds hardTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
