Lloyd Banks

Lloyd Banks - Large On The Streets songtekst

Je score:




Literally drops and blood shed

Sour dough, nuff bread

In position of power them chumps dead

Backstabbers and cowards get drunk beds

And violent when unfed, PO's get a challengers bum head

Medic, didn't mean it, shouldn't have said it

Insults are remembered, we all working to said it

Dont play with me, you'll regret it

Cause I target the man before the edit

Leave you like hard tops beheaded

I keep cream, the pistols my street team

Triples on my sweet beam

Crystals in my lap, I'm a beach dream

The skyscrapers to South Jamaica to foreign paper

I dominate ya, my shine shows a thousand acres

I knock 7 bitches down in Vegas

Knock 7 pictures down, I'm famous

I gotta work

Congratulate me with a lot of purp

I'm straight as a college shirt, money to the collar bone, it gotta hurt

Million dollar condo windows, my view spotless

Cant see over my shoe boxes

I hold a big grudge, can't maintain my cool conscience

Smooth offence, high middle the news conference

New sponsors hoes trickin from how I dick em

Ten orgasm's more they gon powder six ones

She ever had a grimey thought I shook it out her system

On cloud nine I smoke like a politician

Southside yelling at every rhyme I'm spitting

Popeyes and long sides from rides driven

Lil homie been smoking, he 11 now

Product of the same neighborhood, hope that don't let him down

Dont go popping off your mouth, harlem showing I go loko

Lloyd lost in time, hear my 1994 flow, came with the yellow

Gardener with the Rose Gold

Him with the platinum crush ice

If your nose colds, train em with the raps

Dirty boxer with the low blows

Famous with the tatts,

Keep straps for you and so so

Flat line, I put a MC to rest

Chipped up shoulder, ill like the Fila F

They gave me something to smile and feel like I need to rest

Middle of summers my shine and bricks and weed for stress

I got em hopping out of chracter my gun caliber, babbler

Lift bars as hard as Africa

Karma's a trafficker, challengers a root statistic

Pardon my picnic, tooley on, MR fix it

My ups and downs got me looking at these bitches different

Staring at my dad in these pictures twisted

I aint ya normal, I'm on my shit terrific

I figured I warn you, the bigger ticket

Big baller call you

I hope it's on you Lord knows a nigga push me

I set 'em on wheels, all you get is midget pussy

Cookies with you pop snatched I pop back

Radio hijack get it all before I die rap

My contacts help driving you soundtrack

Order built for combat 2010 and beyond that
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Taal: Engels

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