Victory 2004 – Song and Lyrics by 50 Cent


Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Victory 2004′ 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.

10 years
Yo the sun don’t shine forever
But as long as it’s here then we might as well shine together
Better now than never business before pleasure
P-Diddy and the Fam, who you know do it better?
Yeah right, no matter what, we air tight
So when you hear somethin, make sure you hear it right
Don’t make a ass outta yourself, by assumin
My music keeps you movin, what are you provin?
You know that I’m two levels above you baby
Hug me baby, I’ma make you love me baby

It’s 10 years and we still runnin this motherfucker – yeah!
(one) As we proceed
to give you what you need (one two)
it’s all fucked up now
what the f*ck yall gon do now

[50 Cent]
Yo we can’t stay alive forever
So if shit hit the fan then we might as well die together
I’m high as ever – more hoes and mo cheddar
G-Unit move around with them pounds and berettas
yeah faggot, if I want it i’m gon have it
regardless if its handed to me or i gotta grab it
Don’t make a ass outta yaself tryin to stop me
I’m cocky, rap’s Rocky, nigga you sloppy
You know that i’m 8 levels above you nigga
I plug you nigga
I never heard of you nigga, ugly nigga
I’m the wrong one to provoke
n rattin on niggas is only gon leave ya smoked
so the only thing left now is toast for these cowards
I got no friends, f*ck most of these cowards
They pop shit til we start approachin these cowards
while we lay around dollas, they lay around flowas

In a Commision, you ask for permission to hit em
He don’t like me, hit him and wild wifey was wit em
You heard of us, the murderous, most shady
Been on the low lately, the feds hate me
The son of satan
They say my killin’s too blatant
You hesitatin, I’m in your mama crib waitin
Duct tapin, your fam destiny
lays in my hands, gat lays in my waist
Francis, M to the iz-H phenominal
Gun rest under your vest by the abdominal
Rhyme a few bars so I can buy a few cars
And I kick a few flows so I can pimp a few hoes
Excellence is my presence, never tense
Never hesitant, leave a nigga bent real quick
Real sick, brawl nights, I perform like Mike
Anyone — Tyson, Jordan, Jackson
action, pack guns, ridiculous
And I’m, quick to bust, if my ends you touch
Kids or girl you touch, in this world I clutch
Two auto-matoes, used to call me fatso
Now you call me Castro, my rap flows
militant, y’all faggots ain’t killin shit
Ooops Cristal keep spillin shit, you overdid it homes
You in the danger zone, you shouldn’t be alone
Hold hands and say it like me
The most shady, Frankie baby, fantastic
Graphic, tryin to make dough, like Jurassic
Parked in quick to spark kids who start shit
See me, only me
The Underboss of this holocaust
Truly yours, Frank White

[Busta Rhymes]
We got the real live shit from front to back
To my people in the world, where the f*ck you at?
Where my niggaz is at? (2X)
Where the f*ck my bitches at?
Where my bitches is at?

(over chorus: Hey yo, I got somethin new I wanna say, check this out

Hey Yo it can’t stay dark for long
They say it’s darkest before the dawn
Calm’s before the storm
I’m happy Mason Betha’s now preachin the psalms
And I can see B-I rockin the Sean John
Yeah right, this is what life after’s like
B-I Frank white, you’re Bad Boy For Life
No matter what the public say we gon prove
it aint another emcee that can fill ya shoes cuz
biggie smalls is the illest, realist
my stones the chillaz, got homes n villas
Overseas and woe is me I found out
Other emcees been tryin ta find ya route
it’s ill when emcees used ta be on other shit
took home life after death and they studied it
listened to the double disc
now they all spit – like they all legit
frank tell em how we hit

We got the shit, Mac tight, brass knuckles and flashlights
The heat-as in the two-seat-as, with two midas
Senoritas, kiss rings when you meet us
P-Diddy run the city, show no pity
I’m the witty one, Frank the crook from the Brook’
Matty broke the neck of your coke connect
No respect squeeze off til all y’all diminish
Shootouts for twenty minutes, until we finish
Venice took the loot, escaped, in the Coupe
Break bread, with the kiss,
Peniro, sheek loops
Black Rob joined the mob, it ain’t no replacin him
Niggaz step up, we just macin them
placin them in funerals, criminals turned aroused
The Brick City, nobody come off like P-Diddy
Business rise, I play men
Hide money on the Island Cayman, y’all just betray men
You screamin, Our position, competition
Nother day in the life of the Comission

[P. Diddy]
Oh it ain’t over, aiyyo Banks talk to ’em

[Lloyd Banks]
I got a industry gangstress that argues and steams the reefer
And flip when I call her bitch like she Queen Latifah
Now all the vehicles is long enough to stash the streetsweeper
This shit gon’ get uglier than the Master P sneaker
I’m slidin through the Ruckers, with Prada on the Chuckers
So the spring break hoes, home from college wanna f*ck us
I ain’t here to drop knowledge on you suckers
I’ll sick rottweiler’s on you fuckers, cops followin to cuff us
Top dollars to discuss this, whole lotta zeros
When it comes to paper I blow the soul outta hero
I’ma break ‘fore I lay on the floor buried
besides, every rapper ain’t a star, and every plaid ain’t Burberry
You can’t tame Lloyd, I’m smokin by the big screen
And changin the channel looks like I’m playin the game boy
I know the watch botherin ya vision
But reach and I’ll put a dot on ya head like it’s part of ya religion