It's banks nigga
South side love
They love me in the hood
[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]
Cold since my man died, over that's a damn lie
Boy you smoking dust got these niggas by a landslide
Uh I got them niggas by a rocket ship
I hit the afterburner Ike Turner how I drop a bitch
I'm so far ahead I'm already dead
Getting at you from the future that's why I'm used to what you said
Wait until you see the new Superhead
She got the turbo wop, hop karma sutra in the bed
I got ya yard on my card, back to future with the bread
I pull ya card you a fraud, hope they shot you in ya head
Boy your pockets in the red, you fronting and your style phony
Every day a trending topic keep the pound on me
Exotic women, heavy lenin, that's how I'm living
The punch line king, on the run from Robin Givens
Every week a nigga leak a bunch of robbings killings
Fuck a hater make a million let survival feed him
[Hook: Lloyd Banks]
Still stand where I stood, they love me the hood
Them bitches talking about me, that's how you know I'm doing good
Understood I'm good they love me in the hood
Understood I'm good they love me in the hood
I'm in love with money I don't love these hoes
I love to get paper and spend it on these clothes
Do you here me?
Understood I'm good they love me in the hood
Understood I'm good they love me in the hood
[Verse 2: Lloyd Banks]
Be in here with the weapons on, blink get ya necklace torn
Hef the don, fucking on ya sister like escaborn
Escalade eyes bloody red like I have been paper sprayed
Sex for exercise bitches screaming like I step on stage
I get busy dough from here to Quebec I'm paid
Fucking since a kid, then grab weed borret soon braids
I know the neighbors hate my guts I be recking them
My seconds make a twirler stay for months fuck the wrestling
Protects ya neck again like Rae and Meth and 'em
I'm excellent you full of estrogen with a freshman's pen
You couldn't cloud my intelligence with elegance
I'll never flinch whip game like they threw the elephants
I'm heaven sent living vicariously through these presidents
Done worked my whole life to get two, I've been spending ever since
Gg kush bags couldn't find a better stench
Fly like D. Wilkins and Kemp shootin the bench
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Lloyd Banks]
Big city to country all the pretty bitches wants me
Tote tags for trying to jump me, gun smoking like a junkie
Frying pan man turn ya head into a gumbie
When I'm hungry ain't a a humble bum, picture a nigga summy
Sunny everywhere shocked they let you in scummy every year
Pick a spot I'm heavy there, liquor poppin everywhere
Fucking dimes or something, my aura got the telly scared
All problems aborted, sons and daughter on your belly smeared
Rapped in fire black attire she's the appetizer
Humming on my trail all day I'm a clap her after china
Mr. No Good hood is ever acid rhymer
Shorty fly as hell about 11 levels past Cubana
I'm honored, loaded lama niggas hate ya honor
Donna Karen, Sharen, Chanel in my hotel
All the snickering, I'm running through this money till the trip is done
I meet it at the bottom with my niggas son
[Hook]
Lloyd Banks, born Christopher Lloyd, is an American rapper from South Jamaica, Queens, New York, born in 1982. Considered one of the most important members of the G-Unit collective, founded by 50 Cent, Banks rose to fame in the 2000s with albums like "The Hunger for More" (2004) and "Rotten Apple" (2006). His rap style is characterized by intricate rhymes, fast flows, and lyrics often woven around themes of street life, violence, and success. Among his most notable tracks are "Beamer, Benz or Bentley", "Warrior Part 2", and "On Fire". Banks has collaborated with numerous artists in the hip-hop landscape, including Eminem, Tony Yayo, and Young Buck.
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