in da iPod
Go, go, go, go
Go, go, go shorty
It’s your birthday
We gon’ party like it’s yo birthday
We gon’ sip Bacardi like it’s your birthday
And you know we don’t give a fuck
It’s not your birthday!
Wait, is it my birthday or not? Oh, I get it. We’re going to do [activity] as if it were my birthday. We are not at all concerned with whether it really is my birthday. Rebellious!
Pronunciation in this part of the song is fascinating. There is a serious slurring of the word “it’s,” which turns into “ifssshhh yer birfday.” It makes me kind of sad, though, that the whole birthday theme then disappears.
You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub
I assume “bub” is short for “bubbly,” or champagne. How odd for a rap artist to refer to champagne as “bubbly.” Are you a gangsta or Doris Day?
Look mami I got the X if you into taking drugs
Ecstasy? Peace love unity and semi-automatic handguns!
I’m into having sex, I ain’t into making love
So come give me a hug if you into getting rubbed
He is not interested in emotionally fulfililng, mutually satisfying sexual experiences. But he wants a hug. Poor 50 Cent, secretly starved for affection.
When I pull out up front, you see the Benz on dubs
When I roll 20 deep, it’s 20 knives in the club
Niggas heard I fuck with Dre, now they wanna show me love
When you sell like Eminem, and the hoes they wanna fuck
But homie ain’t nothing change hoes down, G’s up
I see Xzibit in the Cutt that nigga roll that weed up
I don’t really know what any of this means, but I get the general idea. Yo dawg we heard you like boasting so we put some boasting in your rap so you can boast while you rap.
If you watch how I move you’ll mistake me for a playa or pimp
Been hit with a few shells but I don’t walk with a limp
In the hood then the ladies saying “50 you hot”
They like me, I want them to love me like they love ‘Pac
But holla in New York them niggas’ll tell ya I’m loco
And the plan is to put the rap game in a choke hold
Not a player or a pimp. Not disabled in any way. Liked, but not loved or idolized the way a dead man in a bandana is. New Yorkers question his mental health.
I’m feelin’ focused man, my money on my mind
I got a mill out the deal and I’m still on the grind
Focused! A good way to be.
Now shorty said she feeling my style, she feeling my flow
Her girlfriend wanna get bi and they ready to go
Two girls/one guy! Congratulations, Mr. Cent.
My flow, my show brought me the dough
That bought me all my fancy things
My crib, my cars, my pools, my jewels
Look nigga I got K-Mart and I ain’t change
He’s still Jenny from the block. Shopping at K-Mart despite being super-rich.
And you should love it, way more then you hate it
Nigga you mad? I thought that you’d be happy I made it
Especially since he still shops at K-Mart! Come on, be nice.
I’m that cat by the bar toasting to the good life
You that faggot ass nigga trying to pull me back right?
Pull you back to what? K-Mart? You are already there!
When my junk get to pumpin in the club it’s on
I wink my eye at ya bitch, if she smiles she gone
If the roof on fire, let the motherfucker burn
If you talking bout money homie, I ain’t concerned
I’m a tell you what Banks told me cause go ‘head switch the style up
If the niggas hate then let ’em hate
Watch the money pile up
I think this is a good attitude. Don’t worry what other people think, just do your thing.
Or we go upside there wit a bottle of bub
You know where we fucking be
Or, if anyone disagrees with you, just hit them on the head with a bottle of champagne.
—mimi smartypants has her mind on her money and her money on her mind.