Victory Freestyle 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 chedda 

G-Unit move around with them pounds and barreta'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, ugly nigga 

I'm the wrong one to provoke 

You rattin on niggas is only gon' leave you smoke 

So the only thing left now is tools for these cowrads 

I got no friends, fuck 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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I got a industry gangstress who argues and steams the reefer 

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

And all the vehicle's is long enough to snatch the streetsweeper 

This shit can get uglier than the Master P sneaker 

We slidin through the ruckus, wit prada on the chuckus 

The spring break ho's holmes from college wanna fuck us 

I ain't here to drop knowledge on you suckas 

I'll sick rottweiler's on you fuckas, 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 buried 

Besides, every rapper ain't a star, n every plad ain't Burburry 

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

When Im changin the channel looks like I'm playin the game boy 

I know to watch botherin ya vision 

For reachin 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 isles than pathmart 

Run, when we startin a raid 

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

I'm a young pimp pardon my age 

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

Niggas find out what club they at 

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

Ya advance is a grey Acura 

see these record labels got most artists gettin fucked like the gay rappa' 

i go the college on the tour 

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

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

Camera's by the hamper that monitor the floor 

by now, you probably heard of me 

fresh outta surgery, flashy as a fuck, you gon' have to murder me 

Burglary, I'm leavin wit cha nike's bugendy, White T, bergendy 

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 fishin' gear 

heavy when I toke, C-notes from different years 

Bezzy on the rope, remotes and liftin chairs 

You ain't rich, but we glad to snatch ya 

I send cars to 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 

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

you gon' fuckin be there for the rest of yo muthafuckin 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 muthafucka, he ain't goin nowhere 

get yaself a beer, get on the fuckin curb... 

fuckin dirtbag