Lloyd Banks

Lloyd Banks - G's Up lyrics

[Chorus x2: Lloyd Banks]

G's up to every hood and every crew (yeah)

Supposed to have your gun 'round you

And I.. claim G Unit 'till I die

Got it down to a tee

Ya'll ain't fuckin' with me

G's up to every hood and every crew (yeah)

Supposed to have your gun 'round you

And I.. claim G Unit 'till I die

Got it down to a tee

Ya'll ain't fuckin' with me

[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]

Who ever it was that said carats is good for your sight

Must have never came across a rock this bright I've been hot since Mike

First put on the glitter glove

And slid backwards on the stage so give a nigga love

Yeah I'm popular, but don't get it fucked up

The Uz'll have you shakin' in the club like the bruck up

Whats up? with all these wanna be Lloyd Banks

And toy gangstas

We need to make a remix cause theres some more wankstas

My street team straps Mags on they waist

Vest under the shirt and black rags on they face

I'm a problem lord can you find a way to save me?

I can't die shit I ain't even had my baby

Fuck it its all gravy

If I go I'm cool

Death comes for everybody no exception to the rule

I'm a G Unit soldier ridin' with my eyes low

Funny rims spinnin backwards in a spiral

Ya'll know the kid got the game in a jyro

In other words just choke

Nigga I'm no joke

How the fuck you sell 4 million records and go broke

How the fuck you take a trip to Jamaica and don't smoke

Out in L.A. I know a few dimoes and locs

My chain heavy about the weight of a soap on the rope

Leave your girl around me too long I'm pokin her throat

Soon as she open her coat

Bend her over and stroke

[Chorus x2: Lloyd Banks]

G's up to every hood and every crew (yeah)

Supposed to have your gun 'round you

And I.. claim G Unit 'till I die

Got it down to a tee

Ya'll ain't fuckin' with me

G's up to every hood and every crew (yeah)

Supposed to have your gun 'round you

And I.. claim G Unit 'till I die

Got it down to a tee

Ya'll ain't fuckin' with me

[Verse 2: Lloyd Banks]

In the town I'm from the tattle tales don't rock like Pro Keds

the little niggas ride they mopeds

Around the dope heads

Last on the ball court, you can't even cross over

Without poppin a ball

I'm not gonna fall

One year from now I'm in the pop corn Azzure

bulletproof glass Blockin your boy

Glock in the door

I'm on tour, pocket of raw

Knockin' your whore

You back home suckin your teeth moppin' the floor

I'm gettin top dollar this ain't freebies

Been in the game a year and got two "Best Of Banks" CDs

If they ain't mine then I don't give a fuck about 'em

Shit R. Kelly played with the kids and niggas still bought his album

I learned patience cause it takes time

Now my delivery is sicker than McGrady's on the bassline

None of the teckas wait around

Cause I got a roster that'll bring a record label down

I'm a monster I tear the whole track up

My closet'll bar brick on me if I hang another throwback up

I'm flyin back to Miami just to do a feature

Cause they throwin' paper at me like a substitute teacher

I'm far away from the leeches

They can't even reach us

I'm on the left coast gettin my dick sucked on the beaches

Somebody hurl one up everytime that I stunt

And every other verse you hear is a rhyme of the month yeah!

[Chorus x2: Lloyd Banks]

G's up to every hood and every crew (yeah)

Supposed to have your gun 'round you

And I.. claim G Unit 'till I die

Got it down to a tee

Ya'll ain't fuckin' with me

G's up to every hood and every crew (yeah)

Supposed to have your gun 'round you

And I.. claim G Unit 'till I die

Got it down to a tee

Ya'll ain't fuckin' with me

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