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lloyd banks – so hard lyrics

[intro: lebron james]
i wanna give a special shoutout to all the high school players that came outta high school to the league
kevin garnett, tracy mcgrady, kobe bryant, jermaine o’neal
all y’all layin’ the stones down for us up-and-comin’
and especially amare stoudemire, way to make it big baby

[verse 1: the game]
from that corner of compton to the mexican border
another cl-ssic from the kitchen to the el camino with quarters
and the plastic sh-ll toe to the throttle
skip mom’s t-tty, skip the bottle
straight to cristal, in the club never hesitate to pull that pistol
before i take another fine, i’ll be cellmates wit’ shyne
in the mess hall wit’ cbp on my neck
and walk the main line wit’ at&t on my chest
the kid hit the streets he in a vest
wit’ a hoodrat from marcy, tattooin’ “jay z” on her breast
she love the way them gold d’s spin on that six trey
got a thing for dre and love nwa
that’s gangsta like a snoop deville on white walls
n-ggas won’t catch me slippin’ in that wilshire district
big prepared a n-gga for sh-t like that
.38 revolver iron out six pack

[chorus: 50 cent]
it’s so hard…to say goodbye
n-gga get in my way you gon’ die
heard my name, now you think you know me
n-gga we responsible for yo’ dead homies
it’s so hard…to say goodbye
n-gga get in my way you gon’ die
heard my name, now you think you know me
n-gga we responsible for yo’ dead homies
it’s so hard…

[verse 2: lloyd banks]
y’all m-th-f-ckas know my name b-a-n-k-$, cut-clack
the young guerrilla out the cl1cks, baow
g-unit’s runnin’ this sh-t, blap
as a matter of fact, i smell a rat
you better [?] your cat
my diamonds is white and black, how you feel about that
i’m too familiar where i’m at, can’t run around wit’ a rat
whenever our sets is strapped, stay away from the clap
you know the clap, you know to run away from the set
come slip a n-gga, stuck in the trap, runnin’ and duckin’ a mac
50 these n-ggas must be f-ckin’ wit’ crack yep
and i’m flossin’ every chance that i get
walk around wit’ your advance on my neck
i’m demandin’ respect, i hop in the coupe, land in the jet
b-tches can’t keep their hands out my sweats, g-unit
new york city is the ground i’m stompin’
and i’m in l.a. wit’ game blowin’ the palm, i’m comfortable m-th-f-cka

[verse 3: the game]
on a corner in brooklyn playin’ cee lo, call me ny game
gucci chuck taylors, black diamonds in my chain
g-g-g-unit, i’ll write it on your vest or spraypaint it on the wall like f-ck y’all n-ggas
compton’s back, i know you n-ggas heard by now
and seen that cherry red impala parked in front of mr. chow’s
that’s gangsta, yeah, that’s the way i do
crossover and hog the rock like a.i. do
ever since age five, new n-ggas that sold crack
now i picture my back to the wall like sandy koufax
in a hank aaron throwback, d-ckie’s full of franklins, in queens wit’ 50 on 94th bangin’ w-nksta
these fake -ss gangstas, i’m hopin’ they wild
cause i got a hot glock 40 that’ll open the cow
and i’ma avoid trial then blow a hole in ya crown
another beef wit’ the macs, another hole in the ground, m-th-f-ckas

[outro: lebron james]
it’s g-unit radio, i wanna give a shoutout to my man dj whoo kid
reppin’ g-unit and the shadyville, for all you haters out there

- lloyd banks lyrics

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