[Lloyd Banks] My rope all freezy, dope on the TV Ecstasy especially out the GT You next to me, you best to be holdin somethin too Least you can say, you let somethin fly when somethin flew These niggaz get hit and call they lawyer And try to sue you, that's a bitch nigga for ya I'm tough like Mayoga, and De La Hoya, I saw ya Man niggaz'll stack nines for that Cola Cause zips in my shit, I don't grow stems Him got 14 karats, carrots, and gold rims Why say somethin about my name? Don't jump out the window, it's safer jumpin out a plane I can't ditch my bitch, it's somethin 'bout her brain If she put her mind to it she could suck out a vein You don't want a lead shower stay the fuck out the rain There's so much ammo niggaz don't gotta aim
[Chorus: Lloyd Banks] You don't get a warnin, there's no heads up when it's on Here it comes, ready or not Don't be out there snorin, one eye blink and you're gone Keep it cocked - and ready to pop The man makes no mistakes, it's been on since the day I was born Stop drop, or get lead in your knot I'm known in hip-hop, but I'm still ridin around with my chrome Here it comes - ready or not
[Tony Yayo] Yeah, yeah My little shooter's 16 from the projects Glock-16 with the Napoleon complex I'm in and out the projects, my lifestyle pleasant You? You live life like a barbaric peasant Me without my gun in the streets is like a Muslim eatin pig feet Fuck the pigs on the street They all wanna off a nigga - and when these rappers get shot they ain't gangsta, they turn into corporate niggaz You die if it's rated R If it's PG-13 you leave with a scar R.I.P. to Troy and Bags, big shout to Hommo They got fishin money cooked, buy me the Apollo These model hoes swallow, I buy another bottle of this M.O.B. nigga, that's my motto These rappers ain't kings, they pawns And got dust bunnies on they guns
[Chorus]
[Lloyd Banks] I think God spent a lil' extra time on me Pop planted a miracle seed my mom ain't see I got a high intelligence level, I ain't no dummy I ain't satisfied with 10 mil', that ain't no money My talents are blood deep, you can't take those from me And my sense of humor's shot, I don't take jokes funny My paranoia rolls with my bullet holes givin me a third eye, my foes can get a magazine full of those The hip-hop cops follow my Suburban Hopin they can find a pistol on him when they search him I'm icier in person, they like me when I'm cursin So here's a dirty version, you only heard me urban If niggaz try to hurt him, the I-30's squirtin Right through your curtain, don't stop 'til you murk him Mechanical workin, Hechler handle's jerkin That'll pull the Gate in after you Heavenly church him
[Chorus]Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
