Love Shots

Album cover art for "Love Shots" by Lloyd Banks

Lloyd Banks - Rap, In English

Love Shots

9.8K Plays

Duration: 7:32

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Lyrics

[Verse 1] Uh, you're feelin' yourself, you're feelin' me The feelin' is strong, it's clear to see Ain't no feelin' like on top to me and pass down Possibly, sit down drop the V I'm tryna drop another one, shit I gotta see Stuntin' 'til the summer come, swagger by the tree Jugglin' these questions, 'cause it's puzzlin' to me That baby got a husband and she's ridin' round with me Fuck it, I'm just playin' my part I ain't tryna cuff it, can't trust it She ballin' on a nigga budget, touch downs keep her there Money's the subject And I'm on another team, gotta love it She probably try it on me, I wouldn't rug it Southside stubborn, cold hearted in public Livin' without a care, don't care how you judge it Tired of hearin' what you goin' through I does it [Chorus] Love shots She's firin' the gun Probably had a hundred niggas lookin' dumb But I ain't the one Nah, I ain't like them Matter of fact, I went back on the road when I'm done G's up, hoes down Get paper, smoke pounds Fo' bitches, fo' rounds G's up, hoes all the way down [Verse 2] Maybe I will, maybe I won't Maybe I'm better off if I don't None of that money is yours, baby, you're broke And when that boat sink, your soap back on the rope Brand new task, 'cause she's wonderful with her throat Cash for the pope, she's comin' up with the stroke Shawty takin' shots, I duck, dive and dodge Always on the move girl, I work 5 jobs I'm a go getter, fly nigga, flow spitter Game owner, player and a coach hitter Gold glitter and my CD dope Lock me up to NYPD, won't probably wanna see me slip Have a nigga baby, grimy on that greedy shit Borderline crazy, crazy to not see the shit Cold hearted, step into the freezer whip Blue fuckin' Hef, no stress and the weed is lit [Chorus] Love shots She's firin' the gun Probably had a hundred niggas lookin' dumb But I ain't the one Nah, I ain't like them Matter of fact, I went back on the road when I'm done G's up, hoes down Get paper, smoke pounds Fo' bitches, fo' rounds G's up, hoes all the way down

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Credits

Writers
  • Nick Speed
  • Lloyd Banks