What's Up
Отбивка [50/50] Lyrics
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We can get the drama popping, we don't care (Bo! bo! bo!)
It's going down (Bo!) 'Cause I'm around (Bo!)
50 Cent, you know how I gets down
What up, Blood? (What?)
What up, Cuz? (What?)
What up, Blood? (What?)
What up, Blood? (What?)
What up, Cuz? (What?)
What up, Blood? (What?)
What up, gangsta?
They say I walk around like got an S on my chest
Naw, that's a semi-auto, and a vest on my chest
I try not to say nothing, the DA might want to play in court
But I'll hunt a duck nigga down, like it's a sport
Front on me, I'll cut ya gun-butt ya or bump ya
You getting money? I can't get nutin' wit' ya, then fuck ya
I'm not the type to get knocked for D.W.I
I'm the type that kill your connect when the coke price rise
Gangstas, they bump my shit, them they know me
I grew up around some niggas that's not my homies
Hundred G's I stash it (what) the Mac I blast it (yeah)
D's come we dump the diesel and battery acid
This flow's been mastered, the ice I flash it
Jux me, I'll have your mama picking out your casket, bastard
I'm on the next level, Breitling baguette bezel
Benz pedal to the metal, hotter than a tea kettle, blood (what)
What up, Cuz? (What?)
What up, Blood? (What?)
What up, gangsta?
What up, Blood? (What?)
What up, Cuz? (What?)
What up, Blood? (What?)
What up, gangsta?
We don't play that
We don't play that
We don't play that
G-Unit, we don't play around
I sit back, twist the best bud, burn and wonder
When gangstas bump my shit, can they hear my hunger?
When the 5th kick, duck quick, it sounds like thunder
In December I'll make your block feel like summer
The rap critics say I can rhyme
The fiends say my dope is a nine, every chick I fuck with is a dime
I'm like Patti LaBelle, homie, I'm on my own
Where I lay my hat is my home, I'm a rolling stone
Cross my path I'll crush ya, thinking I won't touch ya
I'll have your ass using a wheelchair, cane or crutches
Industry hoes fuck us, in the hood they love us
Stomp a bone out your ass with some brand new Chuckers
What up, Blood? (What?)
What up, Cuz? (What?)
What up, Blood? (What?)
What up, gangsta?
What up, Blood? (What?)
What up, Cuz? (What?)
What up, Blood? (What?)
What up, gangsta?
We don't play that
We don't play that
We don't play that (G-Unit)
We don't play around
We don't play that
We don't play that
We don't play that (G-Unit)
We don't play around
We don't play that
We don't play that
We don't play that (G-Unit)
We don't play around
We don't play that
We don't play that
We don't play that (G-Unit)
We don't play around
The lyrics to Отбивка [50/50]'s song What's Up are an anthem to gangsterdom and the life of the streets. The song opens with a statement implying that the G-Unit, a gangster rap group, is all up for the drama and is not afraid to take it on. The tone of the song is hard-edged, and the lyrics are blunt and confrontational, typical of gangster rap. The constant use of the phrase "what up" serves to underscore the gang culture that the song emanates. The next section of the song is an affirmation of the life of the streets, where there is a constant struggle for power and domination. Магомед Алуев (Khazri Production) - Отбивка brings out the shooting culture that is common in the streets of America, where young men kill each other in the name of protecting their turf.
The chorus repeats the question "what up" several times and serves as a reminder that the song is not just about words, but a representation of the code of the streets. The use of slang and street language adds to the authenticity of the song and its depiction of gangsterdom. The second verse continues the theme of violence and death, with references to guns and the killing of rivals. The lyrics are a representation of the nihilistic and brutal culture that dominates the streets. The song's final section is an affirmation of the G-Unit and a reminder to listeners that the gang does not play around.
Line by Line Meaning
G-Unit (Bo!) We in here (Bo!)
The G-Unit is here, and we are ready to represent
We can get the drama popping, we don't care (Bo! bo! bo!)
We are not afraid to start a fight, and we are ready for any drama that might come our way
It's going down (Bo!) 'Cause I'm around (Bo!)
Things are going to happen when I am present
50 Cent, you know how I gets down
I am a known and respected figure, and you know what I am capable of
What up, Blood? (What?)
Hey, Blood, what's up?
What up, Cuz? (What?)
Hey, cousin, what's up?
What up, gangsta?
What's up with you, gangsta?
They say I walk around like got an S on my chest
People say I act like a superhero
Naw, that's a semi-auto, and a vest on my chest
Actually, I am armed and protected
I try not to say nothing, the DA might want to play in court
I avoid saying anything that might be used against me in court
But I'll hunt a duck nigga down, like it's a sport
However, I am not afraid to pursue and confront someone who crosses me
Front on me, I'll cut ya gun-butt ya or bump ya
If you disrespect me, I will either hit you with my gun or knock you out
You getting money? I can't get nutin' wit' ya, then fuck ya
If you are not making money, I want nothing to do with you
I'm not the type to get knocked for D.W.I
I don't drink and drive, I am too smart for that
I'm the type that kill your connect when the coke price rise
If the price of drugs goes up, I am willing to take drastic measures to maintain control of my operations
Gangstas, they bump my shit, them they know me
Gangsters listen to and respect my music, they recognize me as one of their own
I grew up around some niggas that's not my homies
Although I have grown up around some people, I do not consider them my true friends
Hundred G's I stash it (what) the Mac I blast it (yeah)
I have a lot of money and am willing to use my weapons to protect it
D's come we dump the diesel and battery acid
If the police come, we dispose of our drugs in a dangerous way to avoid getting caught
This flow's been mastered, the ice I flash it
I have perfected my rapping skills and love to show off my expensive jewelry
Jux me, I'll have your mama picking out your casket, bastard
If you try to steal from me, I will make sure your mother has to bury you
I'm on the next level, Breitling baguette bezel
I have achieved a high level of success and can afford extravagant watches
Benz pedal to the metal, hotter than a tea kettle, blood (what)
I drive my Benz fast, like it's on fire, and I am not afraid to confront anyone who disagrees
We don't play that
We do not tolerate disrespect or foolishness
I sit back, twist the best bud, burn and wonder
I relax, smoke weed, and think about life
When gangstas bump my shit, can they hear my hunger?
When other gangsters listen to my music, can they sense my drive and ambition?
When the 5th kick, duck quick, it sounds like thunder
When my gun fires, get out of the way, it's loud and dangerous
In December I'll make your block feel like summer
I have the power to make things happen, even in the dead of winter
The rap critics say I can rhyme
People who critique rap music recognize my skill and talent
The fiends say my dope is a nine, every chick I fuck with is a dime
Drug users love my product, and I only engage with beautiful women
I'm like Patti LaBelle, homie, I'm on my own
I am independent and don't need anyone's help or approval
Where I lay my hat is my home, I'm a rolling stone
I am always on the move and don't stay in one place for long
Cross my path I'll crush ya, thinking I won't touch ya
Don't underestimate me, I am willing to harm those who oppose me
I'll have your ass using a wheelchair, cane or crutches
I will injure you to the point where you need mobility aids to get around
Industry hoes fuck us, in the hood they love us
Women in the music industry sleep with us, but people in our community respect and admire us
Stomp a bone out your ass with some brand new Chuckers
I will beat you up so badly that your bones will come out of your body
We don't play that (G-Unit)
The G-Unit does not tolerate disrespect or foolishness
We don't play around
We are serious and do not engage in frivolous activities
Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., BMG Rights Management
Written by: Curtis Jackson, Robert Tewlow
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind