Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Crack a Bottle’ by 50 Cent. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of 50 Cent or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
Ladies and gentlemen
The moment you’ve all been waiting for
In this corner, weighing a hundred and seventy five pounds
With a record of seventeen rapes, four hundred assaults, and four murders
The undisputed, most diabolical villain in the world
Slim shady
So crack a bottle, let your body waddle
Don’t act like a snobby model you just hit the lotto
O-oh o-oh, bitches hopping in my Tahoe
Got one riding shotgun and no not one of them got clothes
Now where’s the rubbers, who’s got the rubbers?
I noticed there’s so many of them
And there’s really not that many of us
And ladies love us, my posse’s kicking up dust
It’s on till the break of dawn
And we’re starting this party from dusk
Ok, let’s go
Back with André the Giant, Mr. Elephant Tusk
Fix your musk, you’ll just be another one bit the dust
Just one of my mothers sons who got thrown under the bus
Kiss my butt, lick fromunda cheese from under my nuts
It disgusts me to see the game the way that it looks
It’s a must I redeem my name and haters get mushed
Bitches lust man they love me when I lay in the cut
Fisticuff, the lady gave her eighty-some paper cut
Now picture us it’s ridiculous you curse at the thought
‘Cause when I spit the verse the shit
Gets worse then Worcestershire sauce
If I could fit the words as picture perfect, works every time
Every verse, every line, as simple as nursery rhymes
It’s elementary the elephants have entered the room
I venture to say we’re the center of attention it’s true
Not to mention back with a vengeance so here’s the signal
Of the bat symbol the platinum trio’s back on you hoes
So crack a bottle, let your body waddle
Don’t act like a snobby model you just hit the lotto
O-oh o-oh, bitches hopping in my Tahoe
Got one riding shotgun and no not one of them got clothes
Now where’s the rubbers, who’s got the rubbers?
I noticed there’s so many of them
And there’s really not that many of us
And ladies love us, my posse’s kicking up dust
It’s on till the break of dawn
And we’re starting this party from dusk
Ladies and gentlemen, Dr. Dre
They see that low rider go by they’re, like “Oh my”
You ain’t got to tell me why you’re sick ’cause I know why
I dip through in that six trey like sick ’em Dre
I’m an itch that they can’t scratch, they sick of me
But hey, what else can I say? I love L.A.
‘Cause over and above all, it’s just another day
And this one begins where the last one ends
Pick up where we left off and get smashed again
I’ll be dammed, just fucked around and crashed my Benz
Driving around with a smashed front end
Let’s cash that one in
Grab another one from out the stable
The Monte Carlo, El Camino or the El Dorado
The hell if I know
Do I want leather seats or vinyl?
Decisions, decisions
Garage looks like Precision Collision
Or Maaco beats quake like Waco
Just keep the bass low speakers away from your face though
So crack a bottle, let your body waddle
Don’t act like a snobby model you just hit the lotto
O-oh o-oh, bitches hopping in my Tahoe
Got one riding shotgun and no not one of them got clothes
Now where’s the rubbers, who’s got the rubbers?
I noticed there’s so many of them
And there’s really not that many of us
And ladies love us, my posse’s kicking up dust
It’s on till the break of dawn
And we’re starting this party from dusk
And I take great pleasure in introducing, 50 Cent
It’s bottle after bottle
The money ain’t a thing when you party with me
It’s what we into, it’s simple
We ball out of control like you wouldn’t believe
I’m the Napalm, the bomb, the Don, I’m King Kong
Get rolled on wrapped up and reigned on
I’m so calm through Vietnam ring the alarm
Bring the Chandon, burn marijuana, do what you want
Nigga on and on till the break of what
Get the paper man I’m caking you know I don’t give a f*ck
I spend it like it don’t mean nothing
Blow it like its supposed to be blown
Motherfucker I’m grown
I stunt, I style, I flash the shit
I gets what the f*ck I want so what I trick?
Fat-ass Birkin bag, some classy shit Jimmy Choo shoes
I say, “Move,” a bitch move
So crack a bottle, let your body waddle
Don’t act like a snobby model you just hit the lotto
O-oh o-oh, bitches hopping in my Tahoe
Got one riding shotgun and no not one of them got clothes
Now where’s the rubbers, who’s got the rubbers?
I noticed there’s so many of them
And there’s really not that many of us
And ladies love us, my posse’s kicking up dust
It’s on till the break of dawn
And we’re starting this party from dusk