Gossip (50 Cent Diss) Songtext

I Hate Gossip 

And I don’t walk around lookin for it, you know?, But 

Yesterday It Seemed to just wander around until it found me, 

the gossip found me 

Then why don’t you try proving it. 

How? You don’t know how to prove it?, 

well, what you just do is…

Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop… (Oo) 

Stop, hatin’ on a nigga 

that is a weak emotion 

The lady of a nigga 

And you could get tipped 

like ya waitin on a nigga, and 

Put a body bag and an apron on tha nigga

I give my all behind the mic, 

but you could never see, if you sit behind the light and 

You don’t have to pick me.. to win the title fight 

But I’m gone wear that championship belt soo tight 

And if I’m wrong, there is no right 

And if I’m wrong, there is no white 

I’m tryna be polite, but you bitches in my hair like the fuckin po-lice 

And my flow is rare, these other rappers nice, 

These other rappers bark, 

Some of em’ even bite 

But I’m much more bright 

I give the game sight 

So before you dim the lights you just might… might… wanna 

Think it over (think it over) Oo 

Think it over (think it over) Baby

Stop… analyzin’ criticizin’, 

You should realize what I am and start epidimizin’ 

legitimite, I got the heart of the biggest lion 

I’m confident like fuck em all, pull out my dick and ride it 

My flow sick, so sick, it’s like my shit is dyin’ 

It rains a lot in my city, because my citys cryin’ 

Because my citys dyin’ 

Still I emerge from all of that, I am a livin pion-eer, near Zion. 

Fear God, not them 

Steer my Robin Coupe through the streets of the boot… and 

Soo-woop 

And, then I leave a tub in the boot, I leave a blood bath, 

Sorry there’s a tub in the boot, now where the drugs at? 

I’m twisted like the strings on shoe No nigga fuck that 

I’m twisted like the string on a boot, now where New Orleans at? 

I feel hip hop stole me like a bus pass 

So in your possession, I, I, I must ask…

Hey, haven’t I been good to you? (Think it over) 

Tell me, haven’t I been sweet to you?

Drag my name through the mud 

I come out clean 

Cast away stones 

I won’t even blink 

A gun is not a math problem, 

I won’t even think 

Just leave you dead like the mink 

under my sink 

Don’t believe in me 

Don’t believe me 

I graduated from hungry, 

and made it to greedy 

My flow is like pasta 

Take it and eat it 

But I’ma need cheeze if I’m bakin’ a 

ziti. 

You niggas want beef? 

I want a steak and weavy, we be 

Lost in Amsterdam but Jamaica where we be 

Hard body nigga, just takin it easy 

All about my paper, bout my paper like Eazy 

Why do rappers, why do rappers, lie 

to fans, lie to rappers, lot of rappers 

Lie like actors, cut the mothafuckin cameras 

Cut the motherfucin check…nigga fuck your props 

i am hip hop.

I’m not dead. I’m alive

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