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lloyd banks - lloyd banks freestyles on flex | freestyle #066 lyrics

[intro]
uh
it’s time
yeah, the gift

[verse]
ugh! 16s of a psychopath
on a whole ‘nother highway by time the nitro p-ss
don’t get caught by the castle the sucker lights a flash
blood, sweat, and tears to fly, only to cut your lights in half
don’t get your license slashed
freestyle imagine my writin’ stash
the hood need a piece, they’ll pull your ice in half
cook in the underground, burn the f-ck up by time he drop
duffle bag my ashes and spray my face on a homi’ block
addicted to the fast life, losing time on the party clock
media gangsters corny, won’t alarm me, fatigue army glock
light a fire for me, i’ll be bombin’ right back
surround the white house, gon’ have to build a wall around that
hole poked in the heart of queens, the colosseum went black
silence for prodigy… never repeat that impact!
clipper got a mind of his own, watch how you ‘proach that
took my heart out and froze it, choke a rapper with his purse strap
lavender gucc’, grey boots go with the purp’ pack
excellence in my worst rap, presidents, get your verse back
but it ain’t all ’bout the money, features i could get expensive
we don’t use your entrance
hammers sneak in like denzel in fences
drama’s a sentence, ’til death do one of us
i think i’m obsessed with the victory torches, another rush
so talented in my off time, pen the impossible
formed replicas built the league of shadows
black ra’s al ghul, fool
took on the wisdom pac p-ssed, martin and malcolm too
hit the world, broke out my podcast, chronic and rocket fuel
chillin, fresh off my vacation, back for movies
ayo, flex, it look like i’m left off of “bad and boujee?”
i been listenin’ these n-gg-s out here soundin’ average usually
i’m conditioned, my pen cooperates, the tablet knew me
pay homage! you a youtube baby, right?
do your research ’bout me
me! from the land of rips, i got a t-shirt hobby
flame out the mothaf-ckin’ turbo, burn the leeches ’round me
lock and key, impostor-free, half of y’all never leave the county
play with the paper, there’s metal and plastic for you
exotic bags for torture, smoke a youngin’ for my daughter
icy neck still, probably have to bundle up this quarter
who knows, maybe kimuras oral uppercut performers
twisted thoughts in my head, maybe i’m just out of mind
crazier triumph may seem, tell me you seen the decline
any product put out you bringing back, cd on rewind
easing out my peer, beam me out in time, leave me out there, fine dreamy eyes define, ‘ghini out the grind
greedy minds combined, leave me, i’ve declined
whip the whip, took a dose of winnin’ got me tipsy quick
hit the strip, roll myself a 50, roll a 50 clip
hippie sh-t, old heads hatin’, don’t be a hypocrite
pop good on a bad day, not a soul out to witness it
h-ll in the ghetto’s air, doubt if you ever felt breeze
i was born in the studio, cut me, i bleed in lps
personalities multiplying, think i feed off emcees
triggered by hot 9-7, now, double m’s my main squeeze
epitomizing grimy, it mixed me out the 90s
blend of all the top tiers from a corner that’s droppin bodies
murals on the side of the wall, my high society
any shot you got to being somebody, you rock-a-bye me
wrote a alb-m couple days ago, that sh-t you lack about me
all these medi’s got the hood punch-drunk, two-ounce for alkys
lot of sh-t i’m not understandin’, all kind of questions for me
culture lessons, punks need addressin, they out here dressin’ funny
shorty on me, bottom ‘n chest, couldn’t get checkers from me
already two alb-ms finessed, that’s extra money
lived a life of death experience, how could you humble that?
mob of preemies can’t be serious, sh-t on your mumble rap
.40 below, chain swing like a lumberjack
top 5 for fifteen years, who’s f-cking with that, n-gg-?

- lloyd banks lyrics

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