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    BANKS, LLOYD

    The Hunger For More 2004 ©

    Work Magic

    I'm gon' ride, I'm gon' ride, they gon' ride, we all gon' ride, (yeah)
    I come from the heart of southside (yeah)
    Holding it down for my niggas that died (yeah)
    I gotta busy bird on my side (yeah)
    Pop shit and get your whole mouth wide (yeah)


    Baby had tried to steal off the payroll
    I'll have niggas scrapping the skin off the ya face with the same shit they peal a potato (who)
    I thank the Lord for my blessings and I'm glad he gave us the will power and reflexes of Larry Davis (oh)
    You don't wanna see my block formin' (uh huh)
    That's a 101 dogs and I don't mean the ones with the spots on 'em
    Were respected highly
    'cause you don't need to practice gymnastics to catch a body (oh)
    Me and money's like Whitney, next to Bobby (uh huh)
    If I bring all my niggas I'll need an extra lobby (uh huh)
    As soon as you ain't around Jake (Jake)
    You get your ass whipped for chips
    Now that's the real definition of poundcake
    I got the crownsnake
    And you can tell when I'm shopping 'cause when the mall stampeding you'll feel the ground shake
    I got a car I only drive on Thursdays (ha ha)
    I'm a stunna, banks blows more cake then birthdays


    Look at here, ain't nobody 'round here scared (uh uh)
    I'm heading for the top and I'm almost there
    Oh yeah this shiny shit right here
    I'll work magic and make you niggas disappear
    Look at here, ain't nobody 'round here scared
    I'm heading for the top and I'm almost there
    Oh yeah this shiny shit right here
    I'll work magic and make you niggas disappear


    You know how I gets down
    This pound hold six rounds
    I told you I'd be back bitch
    Talk that shit now
    You hear that for fif sound
    Duck when I spit rounds
    'cause this ain't Beverly Hills
    You in the bricks now
    We ain't got shit down here but dope and guns for sell
    You get your head cracked and niggas don't run and tell
    It's like we sell crack get caught head back to jail
    We on that fuck the police shit
    We living in hell
    You better guard your grill homey
    And stand your ground
    These bullets burn
    They hit whoever's standing 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 (boom)
    If it's beef then I'm ready to ride
    Just come to Casheville you can find me on the southside (motherfucker)




    Now I ain't from Michigan but I'm in the Fab 5
    You know, Yayo and 50, Buck and Game, you know my fucking 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 talking shit
    But we can all tell he ass
    Jabs will black his eyes like the R-Kelly mask (ah)
    You gotta blast me yo (yo)
    'cause the Louisville will have your head looking like the top of a pistachio
    The young gunner with a raspy flow
    Got every boyfriend thinking they girlfriend's a nasty hoe
    My heart laughing a small
    Maybe it's 'cause my grandpop dropped right after the ball
    Banks hops out bulletproof this, bulletproof that, bulletproof's snorkle when you hot they hawk you
    I got the hood on my shoulder
    Chain big as a boulder
    The 357 tucka
    Motherfucker



    Yeah
    Motherfucker
    I'm here.. yeah
    Lloyd banks
    G-G-G-G-G G-Unit!!
    Money by any means... nigga

    2004 ©


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BANKS, LLOYD Work Magic lyrics 11751