Lloyd Banks

Lloyd Banks - You Already Know (Remix) lyrics

Uh...

Uh...

Uh...

Uh...

Uh...

Uh...

You already know, my mind is on my dough

A millionaire, don't spend a dollar on a hoe

I'm still in here, tryin' to get a model out the door

High, blowin' bottle after bottle of that dro

Slidin' on a roll, groupie in my vehicle that I don't even know

And if I wasn't Banks, shorty probably wouldn't roll

From the Benz to the lobby, from the lobby to the door

If you ain't with the program, ma you got to go (go)

I move like there's popo behind me

Cocoa inside me, so cold and grimey

44 beside me, hoes know to find me

Where ever there's money, yeah i'm the shit honey (whoo)

Hood nigga with that rubberband brick money

If I go broke, I'll make you and your man strip dummy

Yeah nigga, you don't want it with them, there bigger

Cross us, your on something, weed, their liquor, scared nigga, here trigger

Teflon, chest gone, G's Up, freeze up and you'll end up in your lawn

It's the protege of Fitty (uh huh)

Inspired by Biggie (uh huh)

Burns more then Ziggie (uh huh)

The little niggas dig me (whooo)

I've been stressed out lately, so i'm smokin' more than ever

Dead smack in the hood, good pokin' out my leather

I'm a goodfella

In a G Unit hood sweater

If your bitch give me a sign, i'm a get her

You already know, my mind is on my dough

A millionaire, don't spend a dollar on a hoe

I'm still in here, tryin' to get a model out the door

High, blowin' bottle after bottle of that dro

Slidin' on a roll, groupie in my vehicle that I don't even know

And if I wasn't Banks, shorty probably wouldn't roll

From the Benz to the lobby, from the lobby to the door

If you ain't with the program, ma you got to go (go)

I'm fresh in my two thousand six whip

Cool down or sip brick

Fool around and get hit

Move down the strip quick

Two pounds of drip drip

Smokin' like its legal

Me and my Desert Eagle

All the hos eyein'

When the whip come by flyin'

Got a hustler's ambition to get rich or die tryin'

And that other guys lyin'

He just lookin' he ain't buyin'

He ain't flyin'

He ain't cakin'

Everybody know he fakin'

I should let the hood bake him

But I'm takin' him right to Satan

Just for hatin'

Leave him scrapin'

And run him over with a Dayton

And burn rubber like the back tires on the leer

Sapphires in my ear

Yeah thats why they stare

Yeah thats why they glare

I'm icy as it gets

With a white tee in the six

And your wifey in the Ritz

If its junk in the trunk I pull over and roll the blunt

And I shouldn't have to tell her what I want

You already know, my mind is on my dough

A millionaire, don't spend a dollar on a hoe

I'm still in here, tryin' to get a model out the door

High, blowin' bottle after bottle of that dro

Slidin' on a roll, groupie in my vehicle that I don't even know

And if I wasn't Banks, shorty probably wouldn't roll

From the Benz to the lobby, from the lobby to the door

If you ain't with the program, ma you got to go (go)

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