Lloyd Banks
Lloyd Banks - Can You Dig It songtekst
Je score:
[Verse 1: Banks] Look how far I done got, they wanna get like me Realest motherfucker ever, dawg, I just might be Couple ladies on my right, and on my left like three Think I’m high as you can go, give me death by weed I’d rather settle my success than be depressed by greed I’m doin’ more than triple on ‘em, nothing less, top speed I’m doin’ all the sugars on ‘em, I’m the best, buy weed Eight at my table and the rest Dom P Born to be on top, I won’t stop until my respect paid New York City love me, I’ve been rapping for a decade It’s spending money season, though – I ball out every check, mate Came a long way from prayin’ to God that my cassete play They throwin’ pussy at me, I catch it with one hand Toss it, hot potato, while I lay low with the fam’ Today I’m on the creep, 90K on my sedan Countin’ down the days they let my ace up out the can [Hook: Banks] Marksman, lay it down, I don’t love her Yeah, I’ve got a thing for victory and money by the color Shorty said she want to have me, she can have the rubber Nigga can you dig that? ‘Cause I ain’t never dug her I’m a cold motherfucker, I do it for the gutter I can’t wait to let her go, and you’re the one to cuff her I’m stuntin’ on them chumps, let them niggas suffer I’m a cold motherfucker… [Verse 2: French] I be talkin’ to them bitches like I’m Pepe King Bitch back up, money stack up like 8’10 Soccer boy, kick your bitch out with a scissor kick I be stackin’ green, nigga, on some lizard shit Wrist rocked up nigga, on some blizzard shit Tell your bitch protect her neck on some rza shit Hoppin’ out that window, that chain out, that mac out They told me bring my chain out, New York City is blacked out I said it’s blacked out, don’t make me back out Hundred rounds of clips, smiling Don’t make me bring that mask out I’ve got a Banks truck in my back pocket 9, 000 watts on my chain, where’s the socket? I’ve got them 8 balls, nigga, where’s the pocket? (What you got?) I’ve got them 8 balls, nigga, where’s the pocket? Suicide doors, think a nigga gone crazy Dirty Sprite poured, think it got me moving lazy [Hook:] [Verse 3: Banks] Platinum spaceships spill out on my scene, shit Karate kid, put a bitch out with the clean kick Purple weed and yellow bitches make my brain tick Royal light blue colours, peep my aura as my chain hits He can add a “03 or just calm my ego They think I’m cheating with the raps… I’ll give up all I’ve got before I starve my people Nigga your skin thin as Hell you let the bargains reach you She cool as hell, I drop her off she back to snotty I’ve got a chick to tap for every tattoo on my body Pick a model, she gon’ top me down Backstreet or the lobby Every finger rocky now, athlete when I party Catch me rollin’ out… Maserati Pockets holding out… endo, probably Look at how she poke it out, she wanna pop me I sat her down an broke ‘em out… ungh, sloppy… [Hook:]