"Poor Lil Rich" lyrics - 50 CENT

I let my watch talk for me, my whip talk for me
My gat talk for me, blaow, what up, homie?
My watch saying, "Hi, shorty, we could be friends" (Woo)
My whip saying, "Quit playin', bitch, get in" (Bitch)
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, "50, 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 wan' hear
You tryna play me, I'ma blaze you then
My cross cost more than the crib your mama raised you in

[Chorus:]
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-dot-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 fuckin' bammer
I'm from NY, woadie, but I know country grammar (Woo)
See, me, I get it crunk, niggas go 'head and front
I go and pop the trunk, come back, pull out and dump (Yeah)
My money come in lumps, my pockets got the mumps
You see me sittin' on dubs, that's why you mad, chump (Uh-huh)
Don't make me hit you up, these shells'll split you up
I lay you down, the coroners'll 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 the pen', I still do my thing
CO screaming, "Shut the fuck up" in the bing

[Chorus:]
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-dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga

I'm in the Benz on Monday, a BM on Tuesday
Range on Wednesday, Thursday, I'm in the hooptay
Porsche on Friday, I do things my way
Vipe' or 'Vette, I tear up the highway (Woo)
Shorty, she could tell you about 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

[Chorus:]
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-dot-six, nigga
In the backseat fondling your bitch, nigga