ft french montana lloyd banks - can you dig it (ft. french montana) - lloyd banks lyrics
[verse 1: banks]
look how far i done got, they wanna get like me
realest motherf-cker 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 c-ssete play
they throwin’ p-ssy 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
n-gg- can you dig that? ’cause i ain’t never dug her
i’m a cold motherf-cker, 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 n-gg-s suffer
i’m a cold motherf-cker…
[verse 2: french]
i be talkin’ to them b-tches like i’m pepe king
b-tch back up, money stack up like 8’10
soccer boy, kick your b-tch out with a scissor kick
i be stackin’ green, n-gg-, on some lizard sh-t
wrist rocked up n-gg-, on some blizzard sh-t
tell your b-tch protect her neck on some rza sh-t
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 b-lls, n-gg-, where’s the pocket? (what you got?)
i’ve got them 8 b-lls, n-gg-, where’s the pocket?
suicide doors, think a n-gg- gone crazy
dirty sprite poured, think it got me moving lazy
[hook]
[verse 3: banks]
platinum sp-ceships spill out on my scene, sh-t
karate kid, put a b-tch out with the clean kick
purple weed and yellow b-tches make my brain tick
royal light blue colours, peep my aura as my chain hits
he can add a “0″ 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
n-gg- your skin thin as h-ll you let the bargains reach you
she cool as h-ll, 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]
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