Featuring: French Montana

Songwriter: French Montana Lloyd Banks

[Verse 1: Banks]
Look how far I done got, they wanna get like me
Realest motherfucker ever, dog, I just might be
Couple ladies on my right, and on my left like three
Think I’m high as you can go, give me death by weed
I’d rather settle my success than be depressed by greed
I’m doing more than triple on ‘em, nothing less, top speed
I’m doing all the sugars on ‘em, I’m the best, buy weed
Eight at my table and the rest Dom P
Born to be on top, I won’t stop until my respect paid
New York City love me, I’ve been rapping for a decade
It’s spending money season, though – I ball out every check, mate
Came a long way from praying to God that my cassette play
They throwing pussy at me, I catch it with one hand
Toss it, hot potato, while I lay low with the fam’
Today I’m on the creep, 90K on my sedan
Counting down the days they let my ace up out the can

[Hook: Banks]
Marksman, lay it down, I don’t love her
Yeah, I’ve got a thing for victory and money by the color
Shorty said she want to have me, she can have the rubber
Nigga can you dig that? ‘Cause I ain’t never dug her
I’m a cold motherfucker, I do it for the gutter
I can’t wait to let her go, and you’re the one to cuff her
I’m stunting on them chumps, let them niggas suffer
I’m a cold motherfucker

[Verse 2: French]
I be talking to them bitches like I’m B.B. King
Bitch back up, money stack up like 8’10
Soccer boy, kick your bitch out with a scissor kick
I be stacking green, nigga, on some lizard shit
Wrist rocked up nigga, on some blizzard shit
Tell your bitch protect her neck on some RZA shit
Hopping out that window, that chain out, that MAC out
They told me bring my chain out, New York City is blacked out
I said it’s blacked out, don’t make me back out
Hundred rounds of clips, smiling
Don’t make me bring that mask out
I’ve got a Banks truck in my back pocket
9,000 watts on my chain, where’s the socket?
I’ve got them 8 balls, nigga, where’s the pocket? (What you got?)
I’ve got them 8 balls, nigga, where’s the pocket?
Suicide doors, think a nigga gone crazy
Dirty Sprite poured, think it got me moving lazy

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Banks]
Platinum spaceships still out on my same shit
Karate kid, put a bitch out with the crane kick
Purple weed and yellow bitches make my brain click
Royal light blue colours, peep my aura as my chain hits
He can add a “0″ or just calm my ego
They think I’m cheating with the raps, margarito
I’ll give up all I’ve got before I starve my people
Nigga your skin thin as hell you let the bloggers read you
She cool as hell, I drop her off she back to snotty
I’ve got a chick to tap for every tattoo on my body
Pick a model, she gon’ top me down
Backstreet or the lobby
Every finger rocky now, athlete when I party
Catch me rolling out, Maserati
Pockets holding out, endo probably
Look at how she poke it out, she wanna pop me
I sat her down an broke her mouth, sloppy

[Hook]

Lloyd Banks

Christopher Charles Lloyd – stage Lloyd Banks, is a rapper from New York City, Queens. Banks' rap career was established in the early 90’s with the formation of famous rap group, G-UNIT lead by one of the rap greats, 50 Cent.

Banks' early 2000’s musical style exhibited braggadocios elements and revolved around ghetto struggle/gang themes; expressed with a heavy hitting punchline delivery. As a result of trials and tribulations; Banks' recent projects have matured, both in content and structural complexity.

Banks has collaborated with the very best in the industry such as Rakim, Raekwon, Eminem, 50 Cent, Jadakiss, Fabolous, and many more. Kanye West himself ranks Banks in his top 5 list.