Lloyd Banks - Gilmore's lyrics

Yea, Whoooooooooooooooooo You n***as know what time it is Its time for that gangsta sh** [Chorus] We aint got sh** to live for Your either headed for the pen or your on your way to Gilmore In the middle of the real war Cause a five dollar bill is the sh** n***as k** for I make million out yeah I dont care about a muthaphuka out there My heart cold and my wrist rock You could f** around and die over Hip Hop [Verse 1] I treat a dollar like a mill, countin every bill Cuz if i dont watch mine another muthaphuka will I went double but i still tuck the steel Im the truth, why the f** you think 50 cut the deal Rollin in a bag of D when you cut the seal When i bling the paint job on a Coupe De Ville I aint never had a pop. poppa never had a son Nobody to go get, so i aint never run They chat behind my back but they quiet when i come They treat a lil n***a like a giant with a gun I walk with a swagger like i always had money Cuz i know, they rather see my black a** bummy Aint nuthin funny just a whole lotta anger Mind of a leader, drama of a g**ner If a n***a come on property i aint gonna call There'll be a splatter on ya shirt, and it aint paintball [Chorus] We aint got sh** to live for Your either headed for the pen or your on your way to Gilmore In the middle of the real war Cause a five dollar bill is the sh** n***as k** for I make million out yeah I dont care about a muthaphuka out there My heart cold and my wrist rock You could f** around and die over Hip Hop [Verse 2] I dont follow no rules im gettin in here with the town And if i dont, we gonn' burn this muthaphuka down Im comin thru swingin like they do in H-Town And i roll down the window and spin ya b**h face around Im a stunna, hoggin up the lane like the Hummer Till the wheel run dry like the rain in the summer Even the broke n***a cant afford to go to sleep f** around and get ya head popped all over the street And i aint got nuthin for em but the heat My lil brother want j**elry and Jordans on his feet Now, they recognize if ya slaughterin the beat And if it wasnt for rappin, I'd have ya daughter on the street I been the same since Kane and Slick Rick had it Now n***as die in the car, my whole whip had it I worked too hard to let a n***a have it So i pack the Automatic for the sideline static, Yea! [Chorus] We aint got sh** to live for Your either headed for the pen or your on your way to Gilmore In the middle of the real war Cause a five dollar bill is the sh** n***as k** for I make million out yeah I dont care about a muthaphuka out there My heart cold and my wrist rock You could f** around and die over Hip Hop