Lloyd Banks - Gilmore's lyrics
rate me
Yea, Whoooooooooooooooooo You niggas know what time it is Its time for that gangsta shit [Chorus] We aint got shit to live for Your either headed for the pen or your on your way to Gilmore In the middle of the real war Cause a five dollar bill is the shit niggas kill for I make million out yeah I dont care about a muthaphuka out there My heart cold and my wrist rock You could fuck around and die over Hip Hop [Verse 1] I treat a dollar like a mill, countin every bill Cuz if i dont watch mine another muthaphuka will I went double but i still tuck the steel Im the truth, why the fuck you think 50 cut the deal Rollin in a bag of D when you cut the seal When i bling the paint job on a Coupe De Ville I aint never had a pop. poppa never had a son Nobody to go get, so i aint never run They chat behind my back but they quiet when i come They treat a lil nigga like a giant with a gun I walk with a swagger like i always had money Cuz i know, they rather see my black ass bummy Aint nuthin funny just a whole lotta anger Mind of a leader, drama of a gangbanger If a nigga come on property i aint gonna call There'll be a splatter on ya shirt, and it aint paintball [Chorus] We aint got shit to live for Your either headed for the pen or your on your way to Gilmore In the middle of the real war Cause a five dollar bill is the shit niggas kill for I make million out yeah I dont care about a muthaphuka out there My heart cold and my wrist rock You could fuck around and die over Hip Hop [Verse 2] I dont follow no rules im gettin in here with the town And if i dont, we gonn' burn this muthaphuka down Im comin thru swingin like they do in H-Town And i roll down the window and spin ya bitch face around Im a stunna, hoggin up the lane like the Hummer Till the wheel run dry like the rain in the summer Even the broke nigga cant afford to go to sleep Fuck around and get ya head popped all over the street And i aint got nuthin for em but the heat My lil brother want jewelry and Jordans on his feet Now, they recognize if ya slaughterin the beat And if it wasnt for rappin, I'd have ya daughter on the street I been the same since Kane and Slick Rick had it Now niggas die in the car, my whole whip had it I worked too hard to let a nigga have it So i pack the Automatic for the sideline static, Yea! [Chorus] We aint got shit to live for Your either headed for the pen or your on your way to Gilmore In the middle of the real war Cause a five dollar bill is the shit niggas kill for I make million out yeah I dont care about a muthaphuka out there My heart cold and my wrist rock You could fuck around and die over Hip Hop
