Radio Lyrics - Lloyd Banks

Yea, uh 

Yea 

This is dedicated to the G's, the P's, the C's, niggas thats in the B's 

I guess this ain't somethin' for the radio 

But I'm hot, so I'ma make these muh'fuckas play it though 

I wan-na shine 

Nigga don't make me re-sort to crime 

I guess this ain't somethin' for the radio 

That's where they made me go, right back to the streets 

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My old head went to bed, croaked over the liquor 

His attitude leaked out, all over a nigga; I love him 

He made me harder, made me smarter, I'm young and I'm thuggin' 

Enemy to ya baby father, the one that they muggin' 

Therefore they'd rather see a nigga plug him, cuz the hoes dug him 

Dig him, I line 'em up and get 'em 

Then I forget 'em, cuz I don't babysit 'em 

If he's on a bootycall then he got the 380 wit' him 

If he's headed to the mall, then it's in Mercedes driven 

Or the pea green Stormer, the color of marijuana 

I don't follow rules, I'd rather do what I wanna 

Stand out like a Bent' on the avenue in the summer 

I was low in the cabin, had the view of the lumber 

Think about the has-beens, mad I'm doin' my number 

When I leave out the spot, I drag a few in the Humber 

Brrup, you're now rockin' wit the boy wonder 

Photos 

Yea 

This is dedicated to the G's, the P's, the C's, niggas thats in the B's 

I guess this ain't somethin' for the radio 

But I'm hot, so I'ma make these muh'fuckas play it though 

I wan-na shine 

Nigga don't make me re-sort to crime 

I guess this ain't somethin' for the radio 

That's where they made me go, right back to the streets 

1982 the year I came thru, I saw 

Exactly what I been tryna show to you, or 

You can putcha seatbelt on I'll take ya to 

Where the hood's the arena and the block's the pay-per-view 

I'ma New York nigga, but they love me everywhere 

A soldier, yea... without the military gear 

I'm the flow-er of the year and I rap like I ain't rich 

We all know the kind of respect that Banks gets 

I'm frost bit, 50 grand on the bracelet 

It's a quarter a piece, I'm so close I can taste it 

Run up on me, ya hat and ya head is blown 

Laid out on ya neck, as flat as a herringbone 

All I need is a pitch, a bat and I'm headin' home 

Uh, I'll fly ya head out the park soon as ya start 

You big as a pound puppy, wit a whole lot of bark 

Ya either half crazy, or gotta whole lot of heart 

Yea 

This is dedicated to the G's, the P's, the C's, niggas thats in the B's 

I guess this ain't somethin' for the radio 

But I'm hot, so I'ma make these muh'fuckas play it though 

I wan-na shine 

Nigga don't make me re-sort to crime 

I guess this ain't somethin' for the radio 

That's where they made me go, right back to the street