Lloyd Banks - Gettin Money lyrics

rate me

I'm tired of niggas thinkin' they Sylvester - but now you prob'ly thinkin' wich one

Shit, Rambo, Rocky pick one! (Oooh!)

I'm in the seven star telly

And the roomkey come with a butler if you bring it, you gone FUCKER. (boo!)

I'm a player! - I use my rules the two-thousand-and-five

Two live crews in the Moulin Rouge. (yeah!)

When I party - I'm tend to get a few long screws

So I'm in the V.I.P with the two long ruegs. (uh-huh!)

You stupid to go against us, cause you gon' loose.

We got bullets! - The size of newborn shoes. (whooo!)

And I'm connected around the board, so the SouthSide cheap

Out in Ca$hville nothing 'bout steel and gold-teeth. (whattup?)

You ain't got to know Hip-Hop to know 'bout this (uh-uh!)

Entrepono nigga with the poke-out wrist! (yeah!)

Give me the dice! - I fuck around and throw bout six

And be the reason you roll out piss! - I'm buyin Cris' with this. (yeeeeeeeah!)

I'm from the slum, so this is pitched

To the lil' niggaz, that never got a christmas gift.

Give me a minute - to hear me out

So clear my name from the bullshit (uh-huh!) - cause gettin' money what I'm really 'bout!

And chinchilla when it's chilly out (uh!)

Rollin' up a phillie blunt, pay attention to how I really stunt. (whooo!)

Ether you gangsta or really drunk.

Fuck what ya heard! - My clique run the city chump!

Allow me to display exelence;

Pappa caught a nut, mamma had a son and I've been this way ever since. (whooo!)

You know - head full of neglelance

'Till a "high-dawg" in the bing over bitch-made evidence.

My whole hood on the chase for dead presidensts,

Cause ain't nothing out here. - che'-che' check out my residence!

Man I'm the best! - Nothing more nothing less

But I will be the greatest when I "back-off" my haters! (g'eah!)

My neighborhoods good but I don't wave to my neighbors,

They wouldn't see it anyway. - They 'bout a block away, HEY!

My flow is rawer than "Columbian Yay"

I'm like the MJ in his day; hungry to play.

And the 11-7 Suburban there come with a 'K

It's onroad offroad put your Hummers away, okay?

Come swingin' you'll be bleeding from the gun

Cause I ain't tryna wrestle not even with my thumb. (OOOHH!)

I went to hot Cancoon from freezin' in the slum

Half done! (uh-huh!) Of Bacardi Breezers with the rum. (WHOOO!)

I ain't never been a cuddeler she's leavin when I come,

Like D-Bo with his right: "Spend the evening with your son! "

You ain't leaving with a crumb. - Bitch I'm from the hood, ya heard?

Violate I wish you would you bird!

Y'all don't want it with the boywonder!

That'll only get you in a rumble - crawlin' on the floor like a fumble. - nigga!