Banks Workout Pt. 2

Lyrics

[Intro: 50 Cent] 50 Cent Lloyd Banks! [Chorus: 50 Cent] 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!) [Verse: Lloyd Banks, 50 Cent, Both] I been a problem since the old days, pimps and gold caps Now I'm in O.J. Simpson throwbacks (Un-huh) Y'all was wonderin where my ass been Probably vacationin on South Beach gettin' head like an aspirin (Woo) 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 tryna to cave your head and your back in (Yeah!) I'm gettin' bread and relaxin, and attractin a fan base of females with e-mails and letters to fax 'em (Ha ha) In Vegas with a toaster and a blunt And the hotel I'm checked in, got a rollercoaster (Get 'em Bank!) in the front I'mma post 'em when I stunt, Sam Sosa of the month Better yet the whole season, nigga, I'm still breathin', (Uh-huh) 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 habits are good, collectin' all the karats I could Slidin' from a (Ohhh!) stash spot to conceal the torture And a good silencer to make it sound like the Wheel of Fortune (Yeah!) All this careless talkin', 'cause I'm travelin' and flossin' Havin' a good time, and you havin' a abortion (Come on) You sucker for love, gettin' married and get divorced then Can't even afford the batteries for your Walkman (Lloyd Banks) I'm out the hood, burnin' Cali weed on Slauson 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' (Ohhh weee!) 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 tryna book up and pay me If you think I'm shook up you crazy, baby (Ahhhhh) The boy strap two ninas Smokin' out a bag big enough to fit on vacuum cleaners (Ahhhh!) I wore a glove when I blaze your fatty I ain't your baby daddy, she flippin', now he tryna grab me out the navy Caddy (Killin' 'em!) I ain't your ave-y, papa was a rollin' stone, stockin' up to own a home, pocket full of loaded chrome, (Wooo!) drop and get a hold of dome I know your motive homes, you mad, 'cause I'm fuckin' half your Motorola phone (Oh shit!) 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 (Ahhhh!) Front if you want, end up on the curb in your Prada And your mans runnin', ambulance comin' (Ahhhh!) 'Nother day, another dollar, on the low from the Impala I can have a sixsome in my shower (Shit), muhfucker (Ahhhh!) [Chorus: 50 Cent] Nobody get hurt if nobody don't move just give it up smooth (G-Unit!) Motherfucker you move I'll flash my tool then 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!) [Outro: 50 Cent] Lloyd Banks Ha hah! 50 Cent! I ain't even gotta work hard Look at these niggas, ha ha ha The fuck you gon' do now, nigga? You a had the same niggas in the background for a long time Think they gangsta For goin' back and forth to jail Well jumpin' the turnstile don't count, nigga, ha ha ha ha!