Lyrics Language: Scots Song writer/composer(s): Michael J Clervoix, Christopher Charle Lloyd, Nicholas Marcell Speed
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Lloyd BanksStranger Lyrics:
Uh, I'm doin' my thang, G-Unit's my gang
Ma, I gotta get mine, all the day all the time
Nigga, you know how we roll, twenty three's twenty four's
I'm holdin' my ground in case somethin' goes down
Uh, yeah don't fall for a big butt and a smile
They set ya up you fuck around have to buck in the crowd
Around my way, ain't sunshine ev'ryday
Niggas'll cross ya, you should hear the slang they say
In a land of attitudes AK's and accidents
Where niggas split blunts eight ways and pack the bitch
Mama spit me out with a spindle and I been mackin' since
And I'm stubborn, so I don't lean back and flinch
Your perpetratin', embarrasin' the crooks
Plus your frontin' they only seen Paris in the books
Whenever you leave the bricks watch the niggas you roll with
Before you know it niggas be shootin' up yo' shit
The clubs a fashion show, so niggas go get
And rev up all the broke niggas rockin' they old shit
Before the night is done they be another murder
So put your money to the side for another burner
Stranger, don't bring 'em 'round if I don't know 'em like that
I feel like it's targets all over my back
Because of these broads that's layin' over my lap
A nigga that young ain't 'sposed to live like that
I just saw the dealer and I'm goin' right back
Stashin' my guns 'cause I know they might rat
I'm doin my thang, G-Unit's my gang
Uh, I'm frontin' in my G62's the yellow and royal blues
I'm better than all you dudes hot metal for all you fools
The one that niggas admire many study all my moves
And I'm focused 'cause I'm a end up bloody if I snooze
You a sucker for love or maybe I'm a bit different
If you ask me, is your baby mama's a pigeon?
I just bought the mansion and ma dukes pop the ribbon
And I'm out poppin' Cris bitch I'll show you how I'm livin'
I keep havin' them dreams 'bout niggas gettin' the drop on me
Lettin' them things fly up and down the block for me
True fear niggas don't feel ya they triflin'
But I adapt 'cause I used to think just like 'em
As soon as I hit the top I noticed the sudden change
It's probably the Maserati Ferrari, yeah the Range
This is South side street talk the hood slang
And my product, a open your nose like good Caine
Stranger, don't bring 'em 'round if I don't know 'em like that
I feel like it's targets all over my back
Because of these broads that's layin over my lap
A nigga that young ain't 'sposed to live like that
I just saw the dealer and I'm goin' right back
Stashin' my guns 'cause I know they might rat
I'm doin' my thang, G-Unit's my gang
The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
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