Banks Victory Lyrics - Lloyd Banks

[50 Cent] 

Yo, yo we can't stay alive forever 

So if shit hit the fan then we might as well die together 

I'm high as ever, more hoes and more cheddar 

G-Unit move around wit them pounds and berreta's 

Yea faggot, if I want it I'm gon' have it 

Regardless if it's handed to me or I gotta grab it 

Don't make a ass outta yaself tryin to stop me 

I'm cocky, raps rocky, nigga you sloppy 

You know that I'm, 8 levels above you nigga 

I'll club you nigga, I never heard of you nigga, its ugly nigga 

I'm the wrong one to provoke 

You rattin on niggas is only gon' leave you smoked 

So the only thing left now is toast for these cowrads 

I got no friends, f**k most of these cowards 

They pop shit 'till we start approaching these cowards 

While we lay around dollars, they lay around flowers 

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[Lloyd Banks] 

I got a intergangstress who argue and steams wit reefer 

And who flip when I call a bitch like she Queen Latifah 

Not all the vehicle's is long enough to stash the streetsweeper 

This shit can get uglier than the Master P sneaker 

We slidin through the ruckus, wit prada on the chuckus 

Soon as spring break ho's home from college wanna f**k us 

I ain't here to drop knowledge on you suckas 

I'll sick rottweiler's on you f**kas, cops followin to cuff us 

Top dollars to discuss this, whole lotta zeros 

When it comes to paper I blow a soul outta aero 

I'ma break before I lay floor berry 

Besides, every rapper ain't a star, nigga plad ain't bulbary 

You can't tame Lloyd, smokin by the big screen 

You changin the channel looks like I'm playin the game boy 

I know the rocks botherin ya vision 

But reach and I'll put a dot on ya head like its part of yo religion 

Why party wit a pigeon? 

I'm blowin a 10 'cause Bush handin flyers for a party in a prison 

I'm in the gucci vest wit the green and red straps 

I'm the last rapper to scare niggas since Craig Mack 

Now every morning's a fast start 

And there aint problem gettin dressed 'cause my closet got more aisles than pathmark 

Run, move startin to raid 

and leave wit 12 shells in ya mouth like a carton of eggs 

I'm the young pimp pardon my age 

I don't got long hair but if I did she be partin my braids 

We just find out what club they at 

take 'em wit us, and run a train on 'em like a subway mat 

yer advance is a grey acura 

these record labels got most artists gettin f**ked like the gay rappa' 

i go to college on a tour 

I'm goin down in history nigga, next to Wallace and Shakur 

I keep ya ammo clean, tec's polished in the drawer 

Camera's by the hamper that mine into the floor 

by now, you probably heard of me 

fresh outta surgery, flashy as a f**k, you gon' have to murder me 

Burglary, were leavin wit cha nike's burgandy, White T, burgandy 

you match now, back down 

niggas love to hate you, but love you when you disappear 

catch me on the boat wit weed smoke and fishing gear 

heavy when I toke, C notes from different years 

Besly in the robe, re-motes for liftin chairs 

We ain't rich, but we be glad to snatch ya 

I send cars to your crib like I'm a cab dispatcha 

you better off wit ya stupid guys, lookin for a coupe to drive 

you ain't gettin nuttin but ya french fries supersized 

it's a damn shame y'all still local 

I'm in a million dollar studio layin my vocals 

Nigga 

Photos 

[50 Cent] 

Still in the projects nigga, you ain't goin nowhere 

you gon' f**kin be there for the rest of yo muthaf**kin life 

and yo momma said, I'm supposed to tell you somethin..... 

to encourage you, somethin positive 

aight well I ain't gon' lie to you muthaf**ka, he ain't goin nowhere 

get yaself a beer, get on the f**kin curb 

f**kin dirtbag