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f/ Lloyd Banks
50 Cent
Yo, yo we can't stay alive forever
So if s**t hit the fam then we might as well die together
I'm high as ever, more hoes and more cheddar
G-Unit move around wit them pounds and berretas
Yea f*gg*t, if I want it I'm gon' have it
Regardless if it's handed to me or I gotta grab it
Don't make a as* outta yaself tryin to stop me
I'm c*cky, raps rocky, nigg* you sloppy
You know that I'm 8 levels above you nigg*
I'll club you nigg*, I never heard of you nigg*,its ugly nigg*
I'm the wrong one to provoke
You rattin on is only gon' leave you smoked
So the only thing left now is tools for these cowrads
I got no friends, fk most of these cowards
They pop s**t 'till we start approaching these cowards
While we lay around dollars, they lay around flowers
Lloyd Banks
I got a industry gangstress who argues and steams wit reefer
And who flip when I call her b*tch like she Queen Latifah
Not all the vehicle's is long enough to stash the streetsweeper
This s**t can get uglier than the Master P sneaker
We slidin through the ruckus, wit prada on the chuckus
Soon as spring break hoes home from college wanna fk us
I ain't here to drop knowledge on you suckas
I'll sick rottweiler's on you fkas, cops followin to cuff us
Top dollars to discuss this, whole lotta zeros
When it comes to paper I blow a soul outta aero
I'ma break before I lay floor berry
Besides, every rapper ain't a star, and every plad ain't Burberry
You can't tame Lloyd, smokin by the big screen
You changin the channel looks like I'm playin the game boy
I know the watch botherin ya vision
You reach and I'll put a dot on ya head like its part of yo religion
Why party wit a pigeon?
I'm blowin a 10 cuz Bush handin flyers for a party in a prison
I'm in the gucci vest wit the green and red straps
I'm the last rapper to scare since Craig Mack
Now every morning's a fast start
And there aint problem gettin dressed cuz my closet got more aisles than pathmark
Run, move startin a wave
and leave wit 12 shells in ya mouth like a carton of eggs
I'm the young pimp pardon my age
I don't got long hair but if I did she be partin my braids
find what club they at
take 'em wit us, and run a train on 'em like a subway mac
your advance is a grey acura
see these record labels got most artists gettin fked like the gay rappa'
i go the college on the tour
I'm goin down in history nigg*, next to Wallace and Shakur
I keep ya ammo clean, text polished in the drawer
Camera's by the hamper that monitor the floor
by now, you probably heard of me
fresh outta surgery, flashy as a fk, you gon' have to murder me
Burglary, I'm leavin wit cha nike's burgundy, White T, burgundy
you match now, back down
love to hate you, but love you when you disappear
catch me on the boat wit weed smoke and fishin gear
heavy when I toke, C notes from different years
Besly in the robe, re-motes for liftin chairs
You ain't rich, but we glad to sn*tch ya
I send cars to crib like I'm a cab dispatcha
you better off wit ya stupid guys, lookin for a coupe to drive
you ain't gettin nuttin but ya french fries supersized
it's a d*mn shame y'all still local
I'm in a million dollar studio layin my vocals
nigg*
50 Cent
Still in the projects nigg*, you ain't goin nowhere
you gon' fkin be there for the rest of yo muth*fkin life
and yo momma said, I'm supposed to tell you somethin.....
to encourage you, somethin positive
aight well I ain't gon' lie to you muth*fka, he ain't goin nowhere
get yaself a beer, get on the fkin curve
