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Published on Aug 10, 2012
50 Cent - My Confessions. This is a rare, unreleased song from 50 Cent's Demo Tape back when he was recording with Jam Master Jay. A little of the end somehow got cut off when I made it into a video and I couldn't fix it, so I'm really sorry for that. All properties belong to their respective owners.
[Intro] Yo I'd like to dedicate this to my mom Sabrina Jackson, god bless her soul. We gon' get it on in here. Nuttin' but real shit.
[Verse 1] Yo, shawty ain't a shawty no more, shawty be wildin', Shawty had a ?lesson? ass belong on the island, I went from ridin' big wheels to wantin' to be a big Willy, Found interest in drug dealers, and cold-hearted killers, Could it be it's in my blood, cuz my mom sold drugs? She used to bust slugs, and surround herself by thugs, Made mistakes by showin' them love, And they killed her, some friends never came to pay respects, so fuck Hilda, You know how friends do friends, like Tony did ?Melleno?, The type of fast shit that ?Hervy? did in Good Fellas, Some snakes don't show up the ?weights?, cuz they backs is yellow, When you hear talk of the south side, you hear talk of the team, See niggas feared Prince and respected Preme, For all you slow muthafuckers imma break it down iller, See Preme was a business man, you guess who the killer, Remember? He used to push the bulletproof BM (uh huh), The tear get you seasick, I sat back and peep shit, They roll with ?easy wider then?, they ain't get blunted, Had the whole projects working for 50 or 500, What about ?Bud?, who ?tradey? and them niggas had cheese, In the late 80s push Mercedes, And Mazaratis, ?Cap? reserved spaces at the horse races, Where they met Columbian connections, like Lucho and Mariella, Then ?Booko? bucks on the horses, they used to cook and flip bricks, Faster than the ? flip flap Jack and pack gats, Niggas said D's dipping (what?), burned his face with acid, Till this day, they would say the mothafucka gasted
[Chorus] It's my confession, I make correction, I strive for perfection, I try to be the best in, whatever I do, I'm tellin' you, This is my confession, I'm teaching niggas a lesson, cuz they can't do what I do, here's my confession
[Verse 2] Yo, a lot of New York blocks are only bringing pennies in, I stand ?beef?, too many cheaps, too little fuckin' ?, Too many sips of the brew, will make you do what we do, Play with insecurities, until we start fussin' and cussin', Frustration builds, ?few lose? and fist fights leave niggas bussin', Not only do we have to look out and avoid encounters with Jake, Gotta look out, and avoid encounters with snakes, Niggas who fake and play both sides of the gate, I squeeze boys to men for they cheese like Michael ?Bivith?, slip with half a big nigga cap like Robert ?Givith?, Comin' up I heard sippin' too much booze will leave you confused, and if you watch the news you'll see some players in this game and lose, Niggas think they together, they ain't together at all, stand on the block together but divided they fall, A lot of niggas locked down and ain't got nobody to call, and a player ain't the same player when he can't ball
[Verse 3] Yo, you better RE-SP-EC-T, me, the type that keep the bricks flippin', Jew-els drippin', the margarita sippin', ?descriptions?, ?Nappy blue all shaped up?, brown-skinned, And ask the hood rats about my dick, the chickens recommend it, I make statements like "try me if you want", Presentation, cool and calm, words as if I'm daring ya, Usually roll with a 2-shot two-five ?Daranja? I'm not an actor, my life's not a movie, I never worked with the Fugees, I'm not killing you softly, pack a small gat just to back you up off me, But later when things simmer and all sin ceases, my peoples will see to it that you rest in peace in pieces, Kill or be killed, that's what the hood teaches, Never go to church so the preachers can't reach us, And if we do, it's only on Easter
Note: Lyrics enclosed in ? mean I don't know exactly what was said then.
Again, all properties belong to their respective owners. Enjoy!