lloyd banks – g’s up lyrics
g’s up
[chorus x2: lloyd banks]
g’s up to every hood and every crew (yeah)
supposed to have your gun ’round you
and i.. claim g unit ’till i die
got it down to a tee
ya’ll ain’t f-ckin’ with me
g’s up to every hood and every crew (yeah)
supposed to have your gun ’round you
and i.. claim g unit ’till i die
got it down to a tee
ya’ll ain’t f-ckin’ with me
[verse 1: lloyd banks]
who ever it was that said carats is good for your sight
must have never came across a rock this bright i’ve been hot since mike
first put on the glitter glove
and slid backwards on the stage so give a n-gg- love
yeah i’m popular, but don’t get it f-cked up
the uz’ll have you shakin’ in the club like the bruck up
whats up? with all these wanna be lloyd banks
and toy gangstas
we need to make a remix cause theres some more w-nkstas
my street team straps mags on they waist
vest under the shirt and black rags on they face
i’m a problem lord can you find a way to save me?
i can’t die sh-t i ain’t even had my baby
f-ck it its all gravy
if i go i’m cool
death comes for everybody no exception to the rule
i’m a g unit soldier ridin’ with my eyes low
funny rims spinnin backwards in a spiral
ya’ll know the kid got the game in a jyro
in other words just choke
n-gg- i’m no joke
how the f-ck you sell 4 million records and go broke
how the f-ck you take a trip to jamaica and don’t smoke
out in l.a. i know a few dimoes and locs
my chain heavy about the weight of a soap on the rope
leave your girl around me too long i’m pokin her throat
soon as she open her coat
bend her over and stroke
[chorus x2: lloyd banks]
g’s up to every hood and every crew (yeah)
supposed to have your gun ’round you
and i.. claim g unit ’till i die
got it down to a tee
ya’ll ain’t f-ckin’ with me
g’s up to every hood and every crew (yeah)
supposed to have your gun ’round you
and i.. claim g unit ’till i die
got it down to a tee
ya’ll ain’t f-ckin’ with me
[verse 2: lloyd banks]
in the town i’m from the tattle tales don’t rock like pro keds
the little n-gg-s ride they mopeds
around the dope heads
last on the ball court, you can’t even cross over
without poppin a ball
i’m not gonna fall
one year from now i’m in the pop corn azzure
bulletproof gl-ss blockin your boy
glock in the door
i’m on tour, pocket of raw
knockin’ your wh-r-
you back home suckin your teeth moppin’ the floor
i’m gettin top dollar this ain’t freebies
been in the game a year and got two “best of banks” cds
if they ain’t mine then i don’t give a f-ck about ’em
sh-t r. kelly played with the kids and n-gg-s still bought his alb-m
i learned patience cause it takes time
now my delivery is sicker than mcgrady’s on the b-ssline
none of the teckas wait around
cause i got a roster that’ll bring a record label down
i’m a monster i tear the whole track up
my closet’ll bar brick on me if i hang another throwback up
i’m flyin back to miami just to do a feature
cause they throwin’ paper at me like a subst-tute teacher
i’m far away from the leeches
they can’t even reach us
i’m on the left coast gettin my d-ck sucked on the beaches
somebody hurl one up everytime that i stunt
and every other verse you hear is a rhyme of the month yeah!
[chorus x2: lloyd banks]
g’s up to every hood and every crew (yeah)
supposed to have your gun ’round you
and i.. claim g unit ’till i die
got it down to a tee
ya’ll ain’t f-ckin’ with me
g’s up to every hood and every crew (yeah)
supposed to have your gun ’round you
and i.. claim g unit ’till i die
got it down to a tee
ya’ll ain’t f-ckin’ with me
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