Texty:
Lloyd Banks

Yeah, you got me, I'm up now It's your loss, it'd suck to be you History is like a cordon, no relay It keeps repeating itself and what else can I say

in your ways but I know how to change you Arrange you tell you things like your my angel There's no rules when it comes to this, write down your number miss They call me Banks

Here's why I go in, back on the dough route More money to spend, watch how I show out Lamborghini gloves out that a bring the hoes out Dollar signs brung

Yeah, G-Unit Yeah, ey, ey I think I gotta' have it And it keeps pullin' me in like a magnet I'm goin' with this kinda music Puts me right back on the

bread lil' niggas need Christmas Banks don't rap wit a back pack I'm in it for the money, the money The money, the money, the cake You heard Banks said

Put 'em up, put 'em up, put 'em up, put 'em up Put 'em up, put 'em up, put 'em up, put 'em up Hands up, shorty when you party with me We goin' way past

your friend boy, I'll f*** your wife man Look at my left, now look at my right hand Every time I move it looks like a strike of lightning My name is Banks

it got to get it Rap gone get that boy found in a river Dead by a trigga thinkin' he Schwarzenegger Fools don't take him I took him across the liver Keep Lloyd

know the deal, it's all about a dollar bill You know the deal, it's all about a dollar bill You know fo'reals, the only way that I can chill Uh, Banks