Lloyd Banks, 50 Cent - Victory lyrics

Gunshot gunshot
One, one, two (Non-stop)
Yo, check me out right here yo

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 holes and more cheddar
G-Unit move around with them
Pounds and Berettas
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 cowards
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

I got a industry gangstress, that argues
And steams the reefer
And flip when I call her bitch
Like she Queen Latifah
Not all the vehicle's is long enough
To stash the street sweeper
This shit can get uglier than
The Master P sneaker
We slidin through the ruckus
With Prada on the chuckus
So the spring break hoes home
From college wanna fuck us
I ain't here to drop knowledge on you suckas
I sic Rottweilers on you fuckas
Cops followin' to cuff us
Top dollars to discuss this
Whole lot of zeros when it comes to paper
I blow a soul out a hero
I'ma break before I lay floor buried
Besides, every rapper ain't a star
And every plad ain't Burberry
You can't tame Lloyd
Smokin' by the big screen
Changin' the channel
Looks like I'm playin' the Game Boy
I know the watch botherin' ya vision
But reach, and I'll put a dot on ya head
Like it's part of your religion
Why party with a pigeon?
I'm blowin' a 10 cause Bush handin' flyers
For a party in a prison
I'm in the Gucci vest
With 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 ain't problem gettin'
Dressed 'cause my
Closet got more aisles than Pathmark
Run, move startin' a wave
Or leave with 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
Niggas find what club they at
Take 'em with us
And run a train on 'em like a subway map
Your advance is grey Acura
See these record labels got most artists
Gettin' fucked like the gay rapper
I go to college on the tour
I'm goin' down in history nigga
Next to Wallace and Shakur
I keep ya ammo clean
Text 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 fuck
You gon' have to murder me
Burglary, I'm leavin' with
Your Nikes burgundy, white tee: burgundy
You match now, back down
Niggas love to hate you
But love you when you disappear
Catch me on the boat with
Weed smoke and fishin' gear
Heavy when I toke
C notes from different years
Bezzy and the rope, remotes and liftin chairs
You ain't rich, but we glad to snatch ya
I send cars to your crib
Like I'm a cab dispatcher
You better off with the 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

Still in the projects nigga
You ain't goin' nowhere
You gon' fuckin' be there for the
Rest of your muthafuckin' life
And your momma sayin': 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 yourself a beer
And get on the fuckin' curb gunshot
You fuckin' dirt bag gunshot