Lloyd Banks Breathe Freestyle Lyrics:
Your boy sick
So move or the germ might touch ya
I'm at the rucker, burning them trees up like Usher
And I'll 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 dogs got the windows from the 24-Hour store
I'm on the verge of flippin
Lord send me a sign, before I
empty this nine, and leave the
boy 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 poppin' 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 wine
I'm a rap phenomenom, the rap Einstein
Pound for pound
I'm Tyson a.k.a Iceman
Message for the record
I ain't slippin for a second
So even if i make it theres tool under the pillow
I'm ballin so the view of the
pool is from the window
[ Find more Lyrics on http://mp3lyrics.org/5ANE ]
I'ma smoker, so the brokas won't
leave us wit the Indo
I'm an angel's nightmare, Freddy Krueger to a bimbo,
A dead beat to you're daughter
I'll fuck her and won't support her
I'm mashin' on the pedal
Smile from ear to ear
Middle finger in the air
Before I catch her eye
Keep rydin behind your tints 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, faster
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 smeared all over your Sasoon
Me I'm on that fly shit
That Southside shit
Thet I'ma sell at least ten million before i die shit
I'm from the block where the heafers be
To doing shows out in Kingston
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!
Lyrics: Breathe Freestyle, Lloyd Banks [end]