Lloyd Banks

Breathe Freestyle

Lloyd Banks


Your boy sick 
So move or the germ might touch ya 
I'm at the rucker, burning them trees up like Usher 
When I teach you how to rap fam 
I'm in that black van 
Like Air Ones and Canaries the size of Pacman 
Who gives a fuck if it's our brawl 
Cuz my dog got the windows from the 24-Hour slawg 
I'm on the verge of flippin 
Lord send me a sign, before I empty this nine, and leave the board drippin 
Me and 50 are like Michael and Pippin 
Ryu and Ken, whoever you send, I'ma rip em' 
I'm added to society, mainly wit my system 
Run and put em' in the truck, like a kidnapping victim 
I'm papa so they pushin me harder 
My associates got interior motives like wishin his father 
I figure, I rather play wit these blades before i pass 
Build a ballcourt, and go buy Bentleys to go to crash 
I'm headed towards my prime 
Wit metaphors and mines 
And I compliment my momma wit pedacures and wind 
I'm nine for nine, the rap Einstein 
Pound for pound 
I'm Tyson a.k.a Icyin 
Message for the record 
I ain't sleepin for a second 
So even if i make it theres tool under the pillow 
I'm brought up, to the V wit a poolish from the window 
I'ma smoker, so the brokas won't leave us wit the Indo 
I'm always wit a pair, before the crew looks for the bimbo 
A dead meats in ur daughter 
I'll fuck her and won't support her 
I'm matching on the pedal 
Smile from ear to ear 
Middle finger in the air 
Before I catch her eye 
Keep rydin behind your tens fuck 
Niggas don't know no Denim 
They'll rob you for the rhinestones and your pimp cup 
They goin off of we say 
Niggas is runnin off from my buzz, fatser than Jamaicans in the relay 
I'm blowin the cush, driving lazy in the lane 
Yelling money ain't a thang 
Like Jay-Z and Jermaine 
About 80 on the chain 
Like Brady wit the aim 
I'm the same 
Whether the Mercedes or the train 
And I may be on a plane 
By the end of the night 
But it's aight 
Tho, I might throw 
I'm rich off a Mic Hoe 
My stamina's low 
X-Rated is my type so 
I keep the crib packed in, no telling where it might go 
Living room, dining room, bedroom, bathroom 
Upstairs, nuts smared all over your Sasoon 
Ya on that fly shit 
That Southside shit 
Thet I'ma sit on these ten million before i die shit 
I'm from the block where the heafers be 
To doing shows out in Pinkston when they rocking where your peppers see 
And being gangsta ain't enough 
A lil' nigga that's stuntin will put a killa in a box like Chuck 
CHEAH!