Lloyd Banks - Radio lyrics

Published

0 109 0

Lloyd Banks - Radio lyrics

Yea, uh Yea This is dedicated to the G's, the P's, the C's, n***as thats in the B's I guess this ain't somethin' for the radio But I'm hot, so I'ma make these muh'f**as play it though I wan-na shine n***a don't make me re-sort to crime I guess this ain't somethin' for the radio That's where they made me go, right back to the streets My old head went to bed, croaked over the liquor His attitude leaked out, all over a n***a; I love him He made me harder, made me smarter, I'm young and I'm thuggin' Enemy to ya baby father, the one that they muggin' Therefore they'd rather see a n***a plug him, cuz the hoes dug him Dig him, I line 'em up and get 'em Then I forget 'em, cuz I don't babysit 'em If he's on a bootycall then he got the 380 wit' him If he's headed to the mall, then it's in Mercedes driven Or the pea green Stormer, the color of marijuana I don't follow rules, I'd rather do what I wanna Stand out like a Bent' on the avenue in the summer I was low in the cabin, had the view of the lumber Think about the has-beens, mad I'm doin' my number When I leave out the spot, I drag a few in the Humber Brrup, you're now rockin' wit the boy wonder Yea This is dedicated to the G's, the P's, the C's, n***as thats in the B's I guess this ain't somethin' for the radio But I'm hot, so I'ma make these muh'f**as play it though I wan-na shine n***a don't make me re-sort to crime I guess this ain't somethin' for the radio That's where they made me go, right back to the streets 1982 the year I came thru, I saw Exactly what I been tryna show to you, or You can putcha seatbelt on I'll take ya to Where the hood's the arena and the block's the pay-per-view I'ma New York n***a, but they love me everywhere A soldier, yea...without the military gear I'm the flow-er of the year and I rap like I ain't rich We all know the kind of respect that Banks gets I'm frost bit, 50 grand on the bracelet It's a quarter a piece, I'm so close I can taste it Run up on me, ya hat and ya head is blown Laid out on ya neck, as flat as a herringbone All I need is a pitch, a bat and I'm headin' home Uh, I'll fly ya head out the park soon as ya start You big as a pound puppy, wit a whole lot of bark Ya either half crazy, or gotta whole lot of heart Yea This is dedicated to the G's, the P's, the C's, n***as thats in the B's I guess this ain't somethin' for the radio But I'm hot, so I'ma make these muh'f**as play it though I wan-na shine n***a don't make me re-sort to crime I guess this ain't somethin' for the radio That's where they made me go, right back to the street