days a month in a suite But I'm still gon' hustle and cheat - let's go [Chorus] [Lloyd Banks] Yeah, uhh, now walkin down the block without'cha weapon
Get cha gun, get cha gun, did you kill 'em all? ... to death, death, death Fuck with the niggas with the guns and you might get shot, get shot Get cha
down with Nationowl Bitches who own, my niggas whose heart is cold Why you can't get down with Nationowl Nationowl's anthem, got'cha soul on lock still
Jada, lata set it off Cartier, Rolley, time frozen get 'em all Dingling medallions, all that glisten is mine And all that bitchin' that you doing I got'cha
I Think Bout Chu Whenever I Go To Mr. Charles Got A Pen N A Napkin Writing Our Names Down Our First Name Wit Cha Last Name I Know We Not Married But I'm Practicing
But as I grew, I met a Jew, a Catholic and the pastor just couldn't figure out where baptist fit Hastily ya paid me that'cha make me sing Brother has
to grab the 'vees Blasted for few winters, rejuvenated Returnin' like you remembered, but more swifter Stronger than your malt liquor Money, hoes and clothes, don't let them whores get cha
even think you'll get your money back You and your boys can make fun of it, yo I like it when you crack Take a bat, and use the thing for batting practice
rhyme to fortify me? Life's messy so I clarify it, Simplifying things for everybody-y... I need someone who's true, Someone who does the laundry too, So what'cha
gun Get cha gun, get cha gun, did you kill 'em all? To death, death, death Fuck with the niggas with the guns And you might get shot, get shot Get cha
worth? more then a beef when you got heat, and til scared of the streets how you gonna make it wit ya body, lost and cause wit cha soul, departin' slow
to talk about Life long trick learn your mouth 'Cause I don't stop macking and I am always rapping I fucked your little sister but I was just practicing
bring it liver It's P.E., still beatin the beast In this game of latecomers, fake friends and flakes And grown men actin like teenagers, we raisin the stakes What'cha
What? What? Money stretch Lil' Zane, what'cha saying? ATL's finest, what? What? Man you can check my lifestyle And see that I'm quite wild Seven twenty
s I just rip, I'm lyrically well equipped Over the beats and the mix, I keep the streets in a fit When it comes to lyrical spit, I'm the t'cha of it Higher
down with Nationowl Bitches who own, my niggas whose heart is cold Why you can't get down with Nationowl Nationowl's anthem, got cha soul on lock Still