Cashing In

Lyrics

[Intro: DJ Whoo Kid & Lloyd Banks] Whoooooooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhh! I'm back! (Mo Money!) Gang Green! (Part 3!) Yeah, cashing in (YEAH!) [Verse: Lloyd Banks] Yo boy's sick, so move or the germ might touch ya, I'm at the rucker Burnin' the trees up like Usher When I teach you how to rap fam, I'm in that black van Like air ones and canaries the size of Pacman, none stop Who gives a fuck if it's our brawl cause my dog got the windows From the 24-hour store, I'm on the verge of flippin' Lord send me a sign fore I empty this nine and leave the board drippin' Me and 50 are like Michael and Pippin', Ryu and Ken Whoever you send I'ma rip 'em, I'm added to damn society Mainly with my system, run and put 'em in the truck Like a kidnapping victim, I'm papa so they pushin' me harder My associates got interior motives like wishin' his father I figure, I rather play with' these blades before I pass Build a ball court and go buy bentleys to go to crash I'm headed towards my prime with metaphors and lines And I compliment my momma with pedicures and wind I'm line from line, the rap Einstein, pound for pound, I'm Tyson AKA Icyin' message for the record I ain't sleepin' for a second So even if I make it there's a tool under the pillow God, I'm brought up, damn, to the V with a polish from the window I'm a smoker so the brokas won't leave us with the Indo I'm always with' a pair, fore the crew looks for the bimbo A dead meats in your daughter, I'll fuck her and won't support her I'm matching on the pedal, smile from ear to ear Middle finger in the air, before I catch her eye Keep ridin' behind your tens fuck, niggas don't know no better They'll rob you for the rhinestones and your pimp cup They goin' off if we say niggas is runnin' off from my buzz Faster than Jamaicans in the relay, I'm blowin' the kush Driving lazy in the lane, yelling money ain't a thang like Jay-Z and Jermaine About 80 on the chain like Brady, with' the aim I'm the same, whether the Mercedes or the train And I may be on a plane by the end of the night, but it's aight I might throw, I'm rich off a mic hoe, my stamina's low X-Rated is my type so I keep the crib packed in No telling where it might go, living room, dining room Bedroom and bathroom, upstairs nuts smared, all over Your sasoon, ya on that fly shit, that south side shit That I'm a sell on these 10 million before I die shit I'm from the block, where the heafers be to doing show Out in Pinkston, when they rocking where your peppers see And being gangsta ain't enough, a lil nigga that's stuntin' Will put a killa in a box like Chuck – CH'EAH!!