Lloyd Banks

Lloyd Banks - Father Time lyrics

Your rating:



[Intro]

Yeah!... 

I hear you... 

And Ima make you shut the fuck up! 



[Chorus]

Yeah they see me movin

They gon need to stop drop

Off the face of earth but Ima make it pop hot

These niggas are not not

Watch me take my spot got

Money got power and respect baby

I just hope times on my side

I've been tryin all my life

Every block someones dyin

Always high heres our life

Come inside



[Verse 1]

Energies my ammunition

Like AK shells

So think about that when you plan on dissin

Go straight to hell

Bred to be ballin since a baby kickin

I had the smell (sniffs)

Brand new money ladies sniffin

They take a L

I take a shit on rappers horse worth

Can't die must conquer the world first

Like a monster to media

On my beautiful girls search

High and low I am no thing u tamper wit

Made the plan you should cancel it

Make examples I trample shit

Drop you here I am cancerous

Answer this, who can handle this?

Scandalous

I dismantles these ants and piss on a trucer

You think I seen the future

How I wam crip recruper

Fire hand

Wam became a brand new man

Big producer ugh

Gift from heaven

Livin legend and I come from queens

Robbin leggin 3-5-7 in my fuckin' jeans

Sufferin and fuckin' up schemes

Twin Bentleys

Matchin beamers on a couple beams

Try my sentenc-in



[Chorus]



[Verse 2]

Murdered half of yall on my mixtapes

Come rap up in my wrath

Now I'm laughin look at ya rib cage

Ya ass been in a slump

Come blastin I lend ya bitch face

Success is wut they want

Tongue lashin'll get ya shit sprayed

Have it how you want

Blood bath

I'm as sharp as switchblade

You'll be smilin for life

Love flashin I got the shit made

Forget where I'm at now I passed em around the 6th grade

Passion for my profession outlast anyone you could name

Hood fame got me ridin in wood grain

Look lame Stanten, Harlem to Brooklyn

They know I'm cooked Cain

Took aim rappin would bang

I could change

But this sport ain't a good game

I'm strappin sir

Back seat in the passenger

Semi-auto massacre

Shoppin while I laugh at ya

Rappers feed my appetite

Metaphors will tackle ya

These niggas ain't half as nice

Playboy in my afterlife

Real nigga wit cash and ice

Drop the bread pass the dice

Hope I crack twice
Get this song at:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: ?

Details:

Language: English

Share your thoughts

This form is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

0 Comments found