Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Stretch’ 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.
[Chorus]
I take grams of coke,
Mix it with lactose, that’s what I do!
Stretch
I make a ounce a dope
With like a eighth of dope, befo’ I’m through!
Product stretch
I got it mastered man
In the hood I’m like plastic man!
Stretch
Fantastic man,
I make the money come faster man!
Yeah
Your favorite bad guys gone!
The Joker’s dead!
So for now till forever your stuck with the kid.
I ain’t supposed to be a boss, I’m supposed to be a enforcer!
I’m supposed to hold a gun, not be stuck in the office!
Michael pimped me? I was in the passenger seat
We was comfortable with me round, cause I blast my heat!
Now I’m four? I was? tryna catch Mason for bricks raw
Charlie fucked up the jux they took Norah’s lil’ boy, stretch!
The cocaine I go hard when the drought come
When the straps come out son niggas know the outcome!
Lay low stay low you may see Jesus!
You hit with a stray yo for no fuckin’ reason.
You prayin’ for a Benz, it’s a blessin’ you breathin’
It’s a miracle that God gave me this tech now I’m eatin’!
Cop it! Chop it! Profit is off the set
Cocaine, candy rain, I’m so for real! Yeah!
[Chorus]
I’m the dope man! Coke man! Smoke man! Whatever-man!
The X-man! Tec-man! You better respect man!
Get the green, triple beam, inf’ beam, murder scheme
Fiend, morphine, dream, codeine, more lean!
Gun pop! One shot! Body drop, it wasn’t me!
Tell the cops it wasn’t me! You saw me right? It wasn’t me!
It’s not my M.O see me I make it stretch
Get in the way I put a body on my Tec!
Call me crazy, I die for what I stand for
I have ammo! Flyin’ out the Lambo’!
Like Commando, nah like Rambo!
I keep my cool as long as the fuckin’ grams go!
Wooptee-woo, I’m a Chef like Wright
It’s hot in here, I’m by the stove cookin’ crack all day, stretch!
We gon’ bag up all night
We ain’ goin’ nowhere ’til the count bag right! Yeah!
[Chorus]
It’s a bird, it’s a plane!
No, it’s purple ‘caine!
Tryna blow sellin’ blow I’m who you f*ck with man!
I got Spiderman high, I made Batman fly!
Your favorite hero took a hit!
Now here you try!
I don’t care if it’s a sin!
I don’t care if you’re ten!
Look around kid!
It’s a cold world we’re in!
If you ask me my offer is extremely handsome,
A little Charlie, Marley,
A little bit of Manson!
Yeah! Me fallin’-off
It’s really far fetched!
I turn a little to a lot I make it stretch!
In come the Franklyn’s!
Then come the Benji’s!
Fiends by the crack house!
Dirty and dingy! Yeah!
I take grams of coke,
Mix it with lactose, that’s what I do!
Stretch
I make a ounce a dope
With like a eighth of dope, befo’ I’m through!
Product stretch
I got it mastered man
In the hood I’m like plastic man!
Stretch
Fantastic man,
I make the money come faster man!