A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

Ron Browz

"Work Magic"

I'm gon' ride, I'm gon' ride
They gon' ride, we all gon' ride

I've come from the heart of South Side
Holdin' it down for my n*ggas that died
I gotta busy bird on my side
Pop sh*t and get your whole mouth wired

[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]
Baby had tried to steal off the payroll
I'll have n*ggas scrappin' the skin off yo face
With the same sh*t they peel the potatoes
I thank the Lord for my blessings and I'm glad he gave us
The willpower and reflexes of Larry Davis
You don't wanna see my block formin'
That's a hundred and one doggs
And I don't mean the ones with the spots on 'em
We're respected highly
Cause you don't need to practice gymnastics to catch a body
Me and money's like Whitney, next to Bobby
If I bring all my n*ggas, I'll need an extra lobby
As soon as you ain't around jake
You get your ass whipped for chips
Now that's the real definition of poundcake
I got the crown, snake, and you can tell when I'm shopping
Cause when the mall stampedin', you feel the ground shake
I got a car I only drive on Thursdays
I'm a stunna, Banks blows more cake than birthdays

[Hook: Lloyd Banks] x2
Look at here, ain't nobody 'round here scared
I'm headin' for the top and I'm almost there
Oh yeeuh, this shiny sh*t right here
I'll work magic and make you n*ggas disappear

[Verse 2: Young Buck]
You know how I gets down, this pound holds six rounds
I told ya I'd be back b*tch, talk that sh*t now!
You hear that fo'-fif sound; duck when I spit rounds
Cause this ain't Beverly Hills; you in the bricks now
We ain't got sh*t down here but dope and guns for sale
You get your head cracked and n*ggas don't run and tell
It's like we sell crack, get caught, head back to jail
We on that "f*ck the police" sh*t, we livin' in hell
You better guard your grill homey and stand your ground
These bullets burn, they hit whoever's standin' around
I never learn, even after I took a couple shots
I just got me some Band-Aids and bought a couple Glocks
Had to go on a rampage and hit a couple blocks
Once they hear that 12-gauge, that's when the trouble stops
If it's beef, then I'm ready to ride
Just come to Cashville, you can find me on the South Side


[Verse 3: Lloyd Banks]
Now I ain't from Michigan but I'm in the Fab Five
You know, Yayo and 50, Buck and Game, you know my f*ckin' name
Whether the truck or train, my mind's stuck on the grind
Cause somewhere down the line, a lot of suckers came
Yeah, ain't talkin' sh*t but we can all tell he ass
Jabs will black his eyes like the R. Kelly mask
You gotta blast me, yo, cause the Louisville
Will have yo head lookin' like the top of a pistachio
The young gunner with a raspy flow
Got every boyfriend thinkin' their girlfriend's a nasty ho
My heart laughin' it's small
Maybe it's cause my grandpop dropped right after the ball
Banks hops out, bulletproof this, bulletproof that
Bulletproof snorkel, when you hot they hawk you
I got the hood on my shoulder
Chain big as a boulder
The 3-5-7 tucker


Yeeuh, haha
I'm here... yeeuh
Lloyd Banks!
G-G G-G G-G G-G G-G G-Unit!
Money by any means... n*gga

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

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