Styles P - Food lyrics

[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks] Being liked was never in my list of plans I give a fu*k about your Instagram I give a fu*k about your Twitter Don't follow me, you see me in the street, ni**a I'm a giant, noisy footsteps can't sneak with ya Been runnin' sh*t, the next move is a flea flicker Still makin' 'em sick like sweet liquor Book full of "told yous" in my MVP picture Ninety percent of my songs gloomy, I'm bar heavy I brought them b*tches out a dark room like R. Kelly Gorilla papers keep the car smelly Thinkin' I won't line you up, dead wrong on the contrary Diamonds on my pimp hand, my buckle strapped, Ferragam' Scorin' like a six man, quarter pound of Marathon Awaitin' a day when all of my bad habits gone Money, powеr, respect, all the abovе added on [Chorus: Lloyd Banks] The fu*k can ni**as tell me, dog? Nothin' You walk around frontin', prolly gon' get into somethin' ni**as'd be food, never dinner function Better keep your cool or pretend, or somethin' [Verse 2: Styles P] Me and Blue again (What up?) Blue steel in the foreign, yeah, I'm a CEO but move like a hooligan If I'm in the club, then the owner gon' let the shooter in Stick it in car oil, baby oil and lubricant Known to set trip, you only trip when you Uberin' Went in godspeed for the time that I'm maneuvering Yeah, I matter like Black lives Baptized in the black five on nine-five with a crack pie Lloyd, we think of Floyd Mayweather and George Blowin' smoke out the sunroof, talk to the lord Thank God for the stash box in the Accord (Thank God) All the old school drug dealers rocking velour Arm, leg, a leg, a arm, head and take these That's the act, I sold crack just to bread, me And I stuck ni**as too, and I cut ni**as too They be like, "fu*k gooks," but I be like, "fu*k ni**as too", what? [Chorus: Lloyd Banks] The fu*k can ni**as tell me, dog? Nothin' You walk around frontin', prolly gon' get into somethin' ni**as'd be food, never dinner function Better keep your cool or pretend, or somethin' [Verse 3: Lloyd Banks] Bet they hit their boyfriends with the okey-doke Prepare for the hoedown, this ain't her first rodeo Watch me break this sh*t down like polio The fu*kin' world can turn on a ni**a long as the homies don't From South Jamaica to San Antonio Seven days, I'm targetin' paper, raining colonial Killin' for years, my ceremony's due I feel disrespected when ni**as tell me my clone is you If I should jump out the window, it's necessary You got something to say to me, tell my secretary Request a order for June, see you in February Thirty'll get you a V, just have the edit ready I been legendary, this is my second tour fu*k the company, what's a building to a wreckin' ball? Bunch of b*tch-ass ni**as that need a epidural Take the Cuban links off, get 'em a neck of pearls [Chorus: Lloyd Banks] The fu*k can ni**as tell me, dog? Nothin' You walk around frontin', prolly gon' get into somethin' ni**as'd be food, never dinner function Better keep your cool or pretend, or somethin'