G'z Up Lyrics - Lloyd Banks

(Chorus x2) 

G'Z UP!, to every hood and every crew 

U (you), supposed to have ya gun 'round you 

N-I (and I), claim G-Unit till die 

got it down to a T (tee), Ya'll aint f**kin with me 

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(Verse) 

Whoever it was that said carrots (karots) was good for ya sight 

Must've never came across a rock this bright 

I been hot since Mike first put on a glitter glove and 

Slipped backwards on the stage, so give a nigga love 

Yeah, I'm popular, but dont get it f**ked up 

The Uz'll have ya shakin in the club like the bruck up, What's Up 

With these wannabe Lloyd Banks's, toy gangstas 

We need to do a remix 'cause theres some more Wankstas 

My street team strap Mag's on they waist 

Vest under the shirt, and black rags on they face 

Im a problem, Lord can you find a way to save me 

I cant die, shit, i aint even have my baby 

F**k its all gravy, if I go, Im cool 

Death comes for everybody, no acception 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 gyro 

in other words, to choke, nigga, im no joke 

how the f**k you sell 4 million records and go broke 

how the f**k you take a trip to jamaica and dont smoke 

Out in L.A., I know a couple Damu's and Loc's 

My chain heavy, 'bout the weight of soap on a rope 

Leave ya girl around me to long, I'm pokin' her throat 

Soon as she open her coat, bend her over and STROKE 

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(Chorus x2) 

(Verse) 

In the town Im from, the tattle-tells dont rock like Pro-Keds 

The lil niggas ride they mopeds round the dope heads 

Glass on the ballcourt, you cant even cross-over 

Without poppin the ball, I'm not gonna fall 

One year from now im in the pop? 

Bulletproof glass blockin ya boy, glock in the door (jea!) 

Im on tour, pocket of raw, knockin ya whore (jea!) 

You back home suckin' ya teeth, moppin the floor (laughs) 

Im gettin top dollar, these ain't freebies 

Been in the game a year and got 2 "Best Of Banks" Cd's 

If they aint mine then i dont give a f**k about em 

shit, R. Kelly played with kids and niggas still bought his album 

I learned patience 'cause it takes time 

Now my delivery is sicker than McGrady on the baseline 

None of the Tec's jus wait around 

'cause i got a roster, that'll bring a record label down 

Im a monster, i tear da whole track up 

My closet bar'll break on me if I throw another throwback up 

Im flyin back to Miami, just to do a feature 

'cause they throwin paper at me like a substitute teacher 

Im far away from the leechers, they cant even reach us 

Im on the left coast gettin my dick sucked on the beaches 

Somebody hurlin up, everytime that i stunt 

And every other verse you hear is the rhyme of the month, YEA 

(Chorus x2)