50 Cent, Lloyd Banks - Banks Workout Pt. 2 lyrics
50 Cent [Curtis James Jackson III]
[50 Cent, Lloyd Banks - Banks Workout Pt. 2 lyrics]
Nobody get hurt if nobody don't move
Just give it up smooth (G-UNIT')
Motherfucker you move I'll flash my tool
And blast my tool (G-UNIT')
Nigga you don't know me, and I don't know you
You think you know my crew (G-UNIT')
I been a problem since the old days
Pimps and gold caps
Now I'm in OJ simpson throwbacks
Y'all was wonderin where my ass been
Probably vacationin on South Beach gettin
Head like an aspirin if you gassed
I can let the TEC pound your ego
Or lock you in a closet
With the West Nile mosquito
The press crowd in people
Especially celebrities
I'm heavily shittin on any
Tom Dick or Gregory
Nigga you better be strappin they want
You dead if you rappin
I'm tryin to cave your head and your back in
I'm gettin bread and relaxin
And attractin a fan base
Of females with e mails and letters to fax in
In Vegas with a toaster and a blunt
And the hotel I'm checked in
Got a rollercoaster in the front
I'mma post 'em when I stunt
The Sammy Sosa of the month
Better yet the whole season
Nigga I'm still breathin
Even though my dollars are green
I rap for the kids that's too
Poor to waste eggs on Halloween
I'm gettin swallowed clean
My habit's are good
Collectin all the karats I could
Slidin from a stash spot
To conceal the torture
And a good silencer to make it
Sound like the Wheel of Fortune
All this careless talkin
Cause I'm travelin and flossin
Havin a good time, and you havin a abortion
You sucker for love
Gettin married and get divorced then
Can't even afford the batteries
For your Walkman i'm out the hood
Burnin Cali weed on Slausson
Where set trippin turn to
Tragedies and coffins
Look, I mean what I'm sayin
You schemin I'm sprayin
Your team end up layin
On the sofa screamin and prayin
Sayin, G-Unit niggas be rollin crazy
Holdin 80s
Older ladies starin cause they starin
In that gold Mercedes
Since 50 hooked up with Shady
Now they tryin to book up and pay me
If you think I'm shook up you crazy, baby
The boy strapped two ninas
Smokin out a bag big enough
To fit on vacuum cleaners
I wore a glove when I blazed you fatty
I ain't your baby daddy she flippin
Now he tryin to grab me out the navy Caddy
I ain't your ave-y, papa was a rolling stone
Stockin up to own a home
Pocket full of loaded chrome
Drop and get a hold of dome
I know your motive homes you mad
Cause I'm fuckin half your Motorola phone
I'm swift with the women I'm
Good with my words a lot of
Niggas is hatin on what I deserve I'm hotter
Front if you want
End up on the curb in your Prada
And your mans runnin, ambulance comin
Another day another dollar
On the low from the Impala
I can have a sixsome in my shower
Motherfucker!
Nobody get hurt if nobody don't move
Just give it up smooth (G-UNIT')
Motherfucker you move I'll flash my tool
And blast my tool (G-UNIT')
Nigga you don't know me, and I don't know you
You think you know my crew (G-UNIT')
I send a nigga that you thought you knew
To come through and put a hole in you
(G-UNIT')
Lloyd Banks, ha ha!
50 Cent! I ain't even gotta work hard
Look at these niggas, ha ha ha
The fuck you gon' do now nigga!
You done had the same niggas in
The background for a long time
Think they gangster
But goin back and forth to jail
Well jumpin the turnstile don't count nigga
HA HA HA HA'!