Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Strong Enough’ 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.
I do more than talk that, I mu’fuckin walk that
Blue Yankee cap back, f*ck around get clapped at
I sleep with the stainless, I walk with the stainless
Man, everybody know about 50, I’m famous
New York, New York, I run New York
Ask Dread at the weed spot, I come through in the mean drop
In different boroughs I have different moments
On different days niggas know how I’m on it
I’m pretty like a Harlem nigga
I’m a shooter like a Brooklyn nigga
I’m a hustler don’t get no bigger
Queens, Southside ’til they bury me
BX, two TEC’s, flames out the nozzles
R1 One wheel, Christian Dior goggles
Spare with me, start some shit, send the shooters out
Come out the club, we out front with the Ruger’s out
Nah, ain’t no sense to talking peace, my brother
That beef will probably send your monkey ass to see Allah
These niggas ain’t strong enough
Their money ain’t long enough
When they bump heads with me
They find out the guns do bust
We getting paper, in God we trust
These sucka ass niggas
These niggas ain’t strong enough
Their money ain’t long enough
When they bump heads with me
They find out the guns do bust
We getting paper, in God we trust
Suck on this, nigga
When I said I’ll kill ya, I’ll kill ya, as a kid I wasn’t kidding then
Special ED kid in the back on Ritalin
Crib all fucked up, hooptie all fucked up
Pockets all fucked up, now nigga, what’s up?
I’m rich now, niggas know about my dividends
Look at the Robb Report, check out what I’m living in
F*ck a spot now, I’m ’bout to buy a yacht now
Crib the size of the New York City block now
Okay okay, try me and get shot down
I’m like a zebra, I got so many stripes
I’m the fucking general, I run my clique right
It was five of us, all of us millionaires
Now one’s a fucking junkie, and one’s a fucking queer
Now it’s three of us, that’s the way we started
They call me crazy, cold-blooded and black-hearted
I don’t play no games, niggas beg for mercy
Then we “T.O.S.”, put that ass to rest
These niggas ain’t strong enough
Their money ain’t long enough
When they bump heads with me
They find out the guns do bust
We getting paper, in God we trust
These sucka ass niggas
These niggas ain’t strong enough
Their money ain’t long enough
When they bump heads with me
They find out the guns do bust
We getting paper, in God we trust
Suck on this, nigga