Victory Lyrics

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Victory Lyrics

by Lloyd Banks

[50 Cent]

ay , yo we can't stay alive forever,
so if the shit hits tha fan then we might as well die together, im hi as ever, more hoe's and more cheddar,
G-Unit move around with dem pounds and Baretta's,
yea faggot, if i want it im gon have it, regardless if it's handed to me or i gotta grab it, dont make an ass out of yourself tryin to stop me, im cocky, raps rocky, nigga you sloppy, you know that im 8 levels above you nigga, i'll club you nigga, i never heard of you nigga, ugly nigga, im tha wrong wun to prevoke, cause rattin on niggaz is only gonna leave you smoked, so tha only thing left now is toast for these cowards, i got no friends fuck most of these cowards, they pop shit til we start approachin these cowards,
while we lay around dollas, they lay around flowers.

[Lloyd Banks]

i gotta thing for gangsters, that argue ova stains of reafer, and flip when i call a bitch like she queen latifah, i like tha vehicle long enough to stash tha streetsweeper, tha shit can get uglier than a master P sneaker, im sliding through tha Rucker, wit prada on tha chuckas, so tha spring break hoes home from college wanna fuck us, i aint here to drop knowledge on you suckas, i sick rotwylers on you fuckers, cops followin to cuff us, top dolla to discuss this, a whole lot of zeros , cause when it comes to paper i blow tha soul out of heros, im a break before i lay in tha floor, burried inside, cause every rapper aint a star and every plaid aint burberry, you cant tame Lloyd, im smokin by tha big screen, changing tha channel looks like im playin a game boy, i know tha watch botherin your vision, but reach and i'll put a dot on your head like it's part of your religion, why party with a pidgeon ? when im goin to 10, cause Bush handin out flyers for a party in tha prison, im in tha gucci vest with tha green and red straps, im tha last rapper to scare niggaz since Craig Mack, now you wanted a fast start, it aint a problem gettin dress cause my closet got more aisles than Pathmark, run when we startin to raid, or leave with 12 shells in your mouth, like a carton of eggs, im a young pimp pardon my age, i dont got long hair, but if i did she be parting my braids, just find out what club they at and takem wit us, and run a train on them like a subway mack, your advance is a gray acura, you see your record label got most artist getttin fucked like tha gay rapper, i go to college on tour, im goin down in history nigga, next to Wallace and Shakur, keep your ammo clean, tech polished in tha draw, cameras by tha hamper that moniter tha floor, by now you probably heard of me, fresh out of surgery, flashy as a fuck, you gon' have to murder me, bergundy, leaving with your Nike's bergundy, your white tee bergundy, you match now, back down, niggaz gonna hate you, or love you when you disappear, catch me on a boat with weed smoking the gear, heavy when i toat , see notes from different years, bezzy in the roll, with remotes and lift up chairs, see i aint bitch i'll be glad to snatch ya, i'll send cabs to your crib like im a cab dispatcher, u better off with tha stupid guys, lookin for a coupe to drive, cause you aint gettin nuttin but your french fries super size, it's a damn shame yall still local im in a million dollar studio laying my vocals nigga.

[50 cent]

Still in tha projects nigga, you aint goin nowhere, u gonna be in there for tha rest of your motherfuckin life, ya momma talkin about im suppose to guide you, well i aint gonna lie to you nigga, you aint goin nowhere, grab a fuckin beer and get on tha curb you fuckin dirt bag.