Gilmore's

Yea, Whoooooooooooooooooo You niggas know what time it is Its time for that gangster shit [Hook - Lloyd banks] We ain't got shit to live for Your either headed for the pen or your on your way to Gilmore In the middle of the real war Cause a five dollar bill is the shit niggas kill for I make million out yeah I don't care about a muthafucka out there My heart cold and my wrist rock You could fuck around and die over Hip Hop [Verse 1 - Lloyd Banks] I treat a dollar like a mill, counting every bill Cause if I don't watch mine another muthafucka will I went double but I still tuck the steel I'm the truth, why the fuck you think 50 cut the deal Rollin in a bag of D when you cut the seal When I bling the paint job on a Coupe De Ville I ain't never had a pop, poppa never had a son Nobody to go get, so I ain't never run They chat behind my back but they quiet when I come They treat a lil' nigga like a giant with a gun I walk with a swagger like I always had money Cause I know, they rather see my black ass bummy Ain't nothing funny just a whole lot of anger Mind of a leader, drama of a gangbanger If a nigga come on property I ain't going to call There'll be a splatter on your shirt, and it ain't paintball [Hook] We ain't got shit to live for Your either headed for the pen or your on your way to Gilmore In the middle of the real war Cause a five dollar bill is the shit niggas kill for I make million out yeah I don't care about a muthafucka out there My heart cold and my wrist rock You could fuck around and die over Hip Hop [Verse 2 - Lloyd Banks] I don't follow no rules I'm getting in here with the town And if I don't, we going to burn this muthafucka down I'm coming thru swinging like they do in H-Town And I roll down the window and spin you bitch face around I'm a stunner, hogging up the lane like the Hummer Till the wheel run dry like the rain in the summer Even the broke nigga can't afford to go to sleep Fuck around and get you head popped all over the street And I ain't got nothing for them but the heat My lil' brother want jewelry and Jordan's on his feet Now, they recognize if you slaughtering the beat And if it wasn't for rapping, I'd have your daughter on the street I been the same since Kane and Slick Rick had it Now niggas die in the car, my whole whip had it I worked too hard to let a nigga have it So I pack the Automatic for the sideline static, Yea [Hook] We ain't got shit to live for Your either headed for the pen or your on your way to Gilmore In the middle of the real war Cause a five dollar bill is the shit niggas kill for I make million out yeah I don't care about a muthafucka out there My heart cold and my wrist rock You could fuck around and die over Hip Hop