Letra Banks victory de 50 Cent

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[50 Cent]
Yo, yo we can´t stay alive forever
So if shit hit the fan then we might as well die together
I´m high as ever, more holes and more cheddar
G-Unit move around wit them pounds and berreta´s
Yea faggot, if I want it I´m gon´ have it
Regardless if it´s handed to me or I gotta grab it
Don´t make a ass outta yaself tryin to stop me
I´m cocky, raps rocky, nigga you sloppy
You know that I´m, 8 levels above you nigga
I´ll club you nigga, I never heard of you nigga, ugly nigga
I´m the wrong one to provoke
You rattin on niggas is only gon´ leave you smoke
So the only thing left now is tools for these cowrads
I got no friends, fuck most of these cowards
They pop shit ´till we start approaching these cowards
While we lay around dollars, they lay around flowers

[Lloyd Banks]
I got a intergangstress who argue and steams wit reefer
And who flip when I call a bitch like she Queen Latifah
Not all the vehicle´s is long enough to stash the streetsweeper
This shit can get uglier than the Master P sneaker
We slidin through the ruckus, wit prada on the chuckus
Soon as spring break ho´s home from college wanna fuck us
I ain´t here to drop knowledge on you suckas
I´ll sick rottweiler´s on you fuckas, cops followin to cuff us
Top dollars to discuss this, whole lotta zeros
When it comes to paper I blow a soul outta aero
I´ma break before I lay floor berry
Besides, every rapper ain´t a star, nigga plad ain´t bulbary
You can´t tame Lloyd, smokin by the big screen
You changin the channel looks like I´m playin the game boy
I know to watch botherin ya vision
You reach and I´ll put a dot on ya head like its part of yo religion
Why party wit a pigeon?
I´m blowin a 10 cuz Bush handin flyers for a party in a prison
I´m in the gucci vest wit the green and red straps
I´m the last rapper to scare niggas since Craig Mack
Now every morning´s a fast start
And there aint problem gettin dressed cuz my closet got more aisles than pathmark
Run, move startin a wave
and leave wit 12 shells in ya mouth like a carton of eggs
I´m the young pimp pardon my age
I don´t got long hair but if I did she be puttin my braids
Niggas find what club they at
take ´em wit us, and run a train on ´em like a subway mac
get advances from grey agra
see these record labels got most artists gettin fucked like the gay rappa´
i go the college on the tour
I´m goin down in history nigga, next to Wallace and Shakur
I keep ya ammo clean, text polished in the drawer
Camera´s by the hamper that mine into the floor
by now, you probably heard of me
fresh outta surgery, flashy as a fuck, you gon´ have to murder me
Burglary, I´m leavin wit cha nike´s bergendy, White T, bergendy
you match now, back down
niggas love to hate you, but love you when you disappear
catch me on the boat wit weed smoke and fishin´ gear
heavy when I toke, C notes from different years
Besly in the robe, re-motes for liftin chairs
You ain´t rich, but we glad to snatch ya
I send cars to crib like I´m a cab dispatcha
you better off wit ya stupid guys, lookin for a coupe to drive
you ain´t gettin nuttin but ya french fries supersized
it´s a damn shame y´all still local
I´m in a million dollar studio layin my vocals

[50 Cent]
Still in the projects nigga, you ain´t goin nowhere
you gon´ fuckin be there for the rest of yo muthafuckin life
and yo momma said, I´m supposed to tell you somethin.....
to encourage you, somethin positive
aight well I ain´t gon´ lie to you muthafucka, he ain´t goin nowhere
get yaself a beer, get on the fuckin curve
fuckin dirtbag