Текст песни Lloyd Banks - Home Sweet Home (feat. Pusha T)

H.F.M. 2 (The Hunger for More 2)
Жанр: Rap
Исполнитель: Lloyd Banks
Альбом: H.F.M. 2 (The Hunger for More 2)
Длительность: 03:59
Рейтинг: 870
MP3: Скачать
Загрузил: W-E-I-G-H-T


[Lloyd Banks] Yeah, 20 miles an hour in my long Bentely shame on you hater, this what the Lord sent me lately I’ve been practicing my gas face cause that’s what I’ma give em when they land in last place hand right by the…they aint too many seeing us so they wanna take my gifts but I wrap em with the (?) my regular (?) currency and cashmere you drove (?) your way, I told her she can crash here yeah I’m counting paper like the cashier living like I’m limited, breathing like it’s my last air my boy in and out the box, super stupid soldier told me if he could do it again he’d do it over Poverty’s king cobra, squeeze ya life out cause its the fatalities and casualtes I should wirte ’bout these rappers aint iced out, they just fooling running round town fakers, zirconian cubic [Chorus] Only money matters in the game, f-ck the fame I gotta eat dollar signs, feed my hunger pain music like Heroin, leave you numb the same play me like I’m something sweet be apart of summer slayin’ most hate it most doubt it thats what they shout it I’m on top now, there’s nothing they can do about it yall better have yall guns out cause where I’m from, there aint no way around it home sweet home [Pusha T] I’ma f-cking rap til you blue in the face you’ll probably turn into smurfs with the time that you waste throughout histroy they throwing shots at the greats but I shoot back, the Lord aint designed me for hate I’ve never understood Martin Luther with the speech with the whole World watching me, turn the other cheek? never, so there’s one left to die in the streets cause his long arms happens to connect with his reach try to kill you then, them near misses was God’s kisses true Hollywood story, ghetto tie bridges different strokes that n-ggas broke the (?) reach you only read about the cars that I paddle shift you only dream about the (?) that I dabble with balcony views, postcard, imagine this white stones, black steel cold chrome this city’s my doormat, them home sweet home [Chorus] [Lloyd Banks] See me where you see me always seen off the Queens magazines, pissy hallway scenes paying crowds, hunger screams, pressure crumbles teams f-ck being humble in the jungle where they fumble dreams drugs for the living, Henny (?) for the body crosses for the power, ghetto for the smiley lyrics courtesy of pitbull, I bit my way out the cage, whats happening competition got me on the Rampage, Jackson part of my reaction to they corny ass raps keep flirting with death and get your horny ass clapped back for more me, rat tat, kiss the ring, beat respect out them bloody heads, turn timbalands to red bottoms 50 bottles just a start now thats how they do it carbon fibre through the Spyder playin’ rider music aint no question of my resume, I gotta prove it life’s a b-tcha nd I get (?) [Chorus]
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