Big Bully

Lyrics
[Lloyd Banks] Weed all morning, and then it dawned on 'em The niggas that call him "the best," I moonwalk on 'em Don't add gasoline, I'll put the torch on 'em They gon' keep wavin' the bull until these horns on 'em You fall on morning before it start stormin' Ain't really no competition, I rip apart all 'em Go call 'em, I serve niggas till they get boring Midnight, midday, morning, ugh This song is for errbody I make it look simple, G's I wipe the floor with MC's, stack triple cheese (Uh-huh) Me, Fif', and Yay' just copped—now that's triple Beams My PLK ring hold weight, I cripple knees (Knees) Traitors get betrayed, tramps get to lick on these I light the room bright as lamps, nigga, pick a sleeve You know you can't get with the camp, lucky you get to breathe Please don't ask me how I'm living when I lift my keys (Yeah) Brand-new-spankin' Franklins I land where it's ancient, they race to thank him (Uh-huh) A million miles away out in space jus' waitin' (word!) Cookin' up the Crack, Gucci apron bakin'! (you nerves!) Listen, 'cause I ain't got the time to blog Words with the struggling Black man, bars hard as Obama job (Ugh) Fuck my enemies (Yeah), I tell they momma slob Drop my bag, tie niggas up like Amistad Shit-talkin' cause I'm armored-car'd Leap and the drama frog, sleep from the karma start (Woo) Suppose I lose it, these old niggas entrees You thinking? 'Cause I been drinkin' like Kanye (Kanye) Ain't nuttin' changed but the change in the cool of life Hop out, shoot the dice, pause for the blue and whites (Ugh) And my new Lous, they lucky if I do 'em twice About to catch my flight to Nice, 'cause I'm nice Dime after dime, I'm the man, yeah Her ass spillin' over the damn chair (Ugh) Her titties stand up like Pam Grier (Uh-huh) I give 'em wide walls and damp hair Slow fellatio in the Lam', yeah, let's camp here (Ha) See, nine times out of ten, I'm kinda rocky I'm dressed up so I pose for the paparazzi Furs by the row, extreme shopper hobby Twenty, thirty racks on that cream Maserati (Woo) How you gon' turn your back on your backbone? Must wanna be in the front, than be in that zone (That zone) Leanin' on Pat-rón, there's no chilling me My lifestyle's fast dome, roam through Ital (Ugh) I got your shorty and her bed game serious (Serious) The pussy only really yours on her period Period—wrong move, checkmate, boy Mansion, man, don't tell me there's a sextape, Lloyd (Ugh) Banks, nigga—name a nigga you know nicer (Huh) I'm shitting, I'm gon' need a sumo diaper! (Yeah) I move like the Spyker, two-door Viper (Yeah) Negative energy'll get the crew all hyper (Ugh) "Mary Jane," life her, the only chick that gets it from me I'm on top of my missionary with the money! (uh-huh!) I'm hearin' all the comparin' and the shit is funny (pfff!) We're not the same I'm different, dummy! (UH!) Your boy back rappin' his ass off, a brick to glass jaws; My flow "Predator" with the mask off! Black leather tint on the fast horse, the last Porsche Ball like mad sports, passports, I'm back forth! One man attack force The 9th wonder, eight other planets past ross You wore a badge boss Headed on a crash course! – My hearts ice! Future brighter than my last thoughts! – You're all mice! On air wouldn't fall off the floordrop I melt mic's, I'm shit out the mall hot! And everything that you're not! Warlock! – Back block Sureshock Keep your mouth shut, and your door locked! Cause speakers go home in a long box; It's all lies he's gonna call the cops! You ain't a MC, you a fat bitch; I get you Swiss cheese for Mac clips! Nose dives, takin' one-knees and backflips! – All over rap shit! End a whole crew at the same time I'm calm, alley-oop when it's game time! – And I ain't even in my prime! My waistlines' a grey Nine; that'll make your ass Run like a great dane! – Chasin' dollar bills Don't chase fame! These niggas really bummy and fake chains If there wasn't so many I'd name names, but "brigade aim"! Hungry like a nigga with no fridge Strange, I ain't grow up like most kids Pains, bulletholes and broke ribs Stains over clothes and close deaths Denials, heavens clouds and no stress! The game's full of fouls and no refs Complaints from the crowds and no love We bring the guns out when they go club! Bottles and Bud! – Thick models and drugs Six Hollow, the Subs, you dipped out with a thug! Dicked down on the rug, I skipped town with her love Blind who? – Take these big diamonds and blood! [End]
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Credits
- Writers
- Lloyd Banks