Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Freestyle’ 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.
Hit him up two times
Three’d be hat trick
Gave him more shots than the pediatrics
Came to his house and shot his left hand out
Left him with more scars than Mr. Def Jam South
To reach the sky, how far would a star go
To handle more cigars than a Cuban cargo
Makin money from everything I spoke in this
Wrapped by more ice than a broken wrist
Got ability to make missy a little tipsy
I’m more P.I.M.P than Mississippi (git it? Uh!)
I know you like to show off you’re bust in gowns
’cause you go around jugglin guys nuts around
And we don’t gotta wait till you’re ass confesses
’cause you go around showing off you’re ass in dresses
You watchin porn sittin there at you’re macintosh
With you’re hand in you’re ass like you’re jackin off
And you try goin harder than star wars Anakin
’cause you practice at you’re house with a anus manikin
got a belt full of steel you can call me santa
You better keep your eyes peeled like a fuckin banana
And don’t try to shoot me like some dumb retards
’cause I miss bullets like I’m sendin them e-cards
Always equipped with the vest so don’t aim for the bell-ay
’cause I dodge bullets like I play for LA
And I’m invisible ’cause you can’t even see me son
But you’re soft as shit I could shoot you with a bb gun
They call me stretch where I’m from ’cause I’m extended out
Find your ass in my house and I’ll send it out
I got a custom made gun so the cops link my shot
So far.. how many mother fuckers do you think I got?