Fill The Void (American Gangster Freestyle)

Album cover art for "Fill The Void (American Gangster Freestyle)" by Lloyd Banks & Young Chris

Lloyd Banks & Young Chris - Rap, Freestyle

Fill The Void (American Gangster Freestyle)

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Lyrics

[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks] Seems like pain is longer, days are shorter Standing on dead weight to stay above water I laugh when they ranking these names in tainted order If I ain't get a game, nothing else, I gave it aura The lifespan of rappers is two, maybe shorter Not having everything made me a baby spoiler Middle of the year, I might have a McGrady Porter Got one foot out of the law, Mercedes order Stuck with all this new shit, product of 80's water And everybody's gossiping now to play with Porter Too many untold truths, the lies are televised Anyone else in that category should be penalized A solid heart and morale's won't be incentivized Gotta watch your back both ways, too many geminis Sickest shit that drops is rock up in the enterprise Teachings cool too, but they profit off of genocide Traders get a better nods, won't be a bidet 500 and something HP on the e-weight Took a while to get here, great lines for replay You gotta take your time like Avon and Webay You wanna free late? Grinding is protocol Only nigga aging with a '99 overall You can't tell these young niggas shit, they think they know it all I used to be the same way too, pride is below the fall I'm alone, they hunger for the sports missing Soon as there's a fork in the road, abort mission Every player playing, they playing with court vision I'm just snitching, cause ain't no way around the court system Big numbers before they couldn't afford switching Cause when you're getting money, it feels like the floor's lifting Running through this maze, avoiding the mortician Die, you caught without him, you'd rather be caught with him You ain't gotta see him sneak up, it's strong pissing No coincidence when you ask, you gotta kiss him Y'all been striking out real fast, see what I'm pitching? Y'all are nodding all off, we got them itching I know how they feeling too, that made me sleepy Put everything in them, my wrist, my AP needs me Keeping heavy metal round like AC/DC School giving all black like a HBC, peace Peace [Verse 2: Young Chris] Uh, these niggas can't fill that void, so they fill that void Says a lot about you if you don't fill that void His shit, his stick, make him fill that toy Engineer get it too, nigga, kill that noise Still trying to get a head from the rock split Back up, waking up from seizures in the hospital Passed up, taxed what? Better off head up with a Mack truck Black truck, coming through mashed down with a Mack up Catch him in traffic to the ABBA Fuck, send a shot till you drop, better put your rag up Niggas crabbing the eighth, talking about match-ups Going to dinner, buncha niggas splitting tabs up Rest in bitches, taking pictures, putting bags up Get in position, work that wrist and get your bag up Strapped all black, never putting white flags up Turning them hoes, turning my trap up (Yeah) Taking a trip to Cali, they cry, I'm turning my back up Finding the hit him, if you kill him you get the back cut White doves, black chucks Pouring liquor on sneakers, on Cadillac trucks From the jungle where they wrecked, they get their racks up I'm from the city where the city girls act up Act out, ass out, I'm fucking them tracks up Rewrite them, put the stacks up, then put the plaques up Stay in your lane, then we'll get that ass cut Put the [?] down, you fat fuck Littering all this bullshit while the tax up Sanitize city, need me to get the trash up Dump the barrel out, clean the crabs up Time for some schooling, niggas, get your class up No fillers, clean them out, penicillin They mad bitches feeling, pussy niggas, we get to killing Banana get the pilling, run the course, we get to drilling Head-shot, pillow, we gon' send them right through the ceiling Seeing Banks with a filler (Uh) Chilling, top billing (Uh) This the place to feel it, there's killers in the villas (Yeah) I never conceal it shoppers all over the village (Yeah) They sick in the head, baby can fuck with the ill-est [Outro Young Chris] Yeah, fellas The chosen fucker Banks, what up, nigga? (Yeah, yeah) Time to clear the bullshit up

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Credits

Writers
  • Lloyd Banks
  • Young Chris