Last of a Dope Era Dying

Album cover art for "Last of a Dope Era Dying" by Lloyd Banks

Lloyd Banks - Rap, In English

Last of a Dope Era Dying

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Lyrics

[Chorus] All that shit together don't equal love to the work I'm supplying What you selling we ain't buying You niggas got it watered down the most I could see your ending already And the timing is close We done came too far to have a setback That bullshit ain't flying You done fell victim to all the lying You're on your way out and you know it, LOADED! Last of a dope era dying [Verse 1] Uh, I asked God to bless me with the gift and he spoiled me Kicking my shit for years now, easy as time recorded me My style's irate, a quarter disorderly Bars that'll get you right on your feet Quarter to quarter fee You settle for crumbs not where you ought to be Guarantee, your lifetime slaughtery in my warranty, uh Chronicles of the last legends Disrespect the veteran, get you a sad exit In the book of violations they'll be a fast sentence Louie rubber bands to compliment my bags preference Soldier platinum, army tag necklace I love the game, but it got corny ass stretchers, uh Need the perfectionist appraise Crowd around a walking ticket, every breakfast is filet's Will they spill and out my ears still, rest when I hit the grave Further I go there's memories connecting us to the pain [Chorus] All that shit together don't equal love to the work I'm supplying What you selling we ain't buying You niggas got it watered down the most I could see your ending already And the timing is close We done came too far to have a setback That bullshit ain't flying You done fell victim to all the lying You're on your way out and you know it, LOADED! Last of a dope era dying [Verse 2] Uh, since my first mixtape I've cooked dime and the regular With no features, I sell myself like Conor McGregor They ain't yourself they cool you out here Kinda an extra Roll an L up in the heat of the battle, chronic finesser Sick to my stomach your CD's are ramen and ketchup Put me next up to them boys in freebie, find me a heckler South Jamaica taker, home of the grimiest pressure Hold the title, mind professor Built shiniest as ever Get your yeses from the weakest of man cheating your fans Chin flips and middle fingers Through lips speak to the hands Money signature, control perimeter, feet in the grand Always sinister the global finisher, week in Japan There ain't shit about survival steady Can't be rhyming ready Instinct made my timing daily Frequent weapons collected who's bombs held me Your working hard at your facade, hardly at the bank Partying's your job, sorry's in your blogs [Chorus] All that shit together don't equal love to the work I'm supplying What you selling we ain't buying You niggas got it watered down the most I could see your ending already And the timing is close We done came too far to have a setback That bullshit ain't flying You done fell victim to all the lying You're on your way out and you know it, LOADED! Last of a dope era dying

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Credits

Writers
  • Lloyd Banks