Year Of The Snake

[Intro: Lloyd Banks & Dj Whoo Kid] Yeah! PLK! (Haha) I’m back! Uh! [Verse 1] Yeah, keep a street sweeper and ain’t no bustin’ off the drama (Nah) No moves in my papas heart I just lost his momma (Damn) Ima realistic rhymer keep the biscuit partna’ (Yeah) Heavy fifth and ganja you ain’t a mobster you whip a Mazda (Woo!) We eatin’ good wine, shrimp, and lobster We celebrate every bitch nigga wake they ain’t livin’ proper (proper) I gotcha, right where I want ya, tunin’ in (tunin in) Trust me, you fucks will run faster than a puma when the horoscopes zoomin’ in They won’t know what to do wit’ em’ Im through wit’ em’ they eatin’ my dust Armani Toomer wind (Uh) Yall canoodlin’ or poodle’n I’m sumo size (Uh) Evenin’ out the bullshit the consumer buys (Yeah) It’s just me and a beat in this lil’ room of mines Flashback’s of scenes too graphic for human eyes (Uh) More traffic it’s do or die (do or die) Closed caskets a few will cry just hope ya crew arrive (Hey!) Flow accurate I aim like the Manning’s (Mannings) No chain 40K on my earrings (Yeah) You been hate forty eight and got feelings? (Feelings) I take plates out of state no ceilings (Halloween Havoc!) (Uh!) I had swag before I got the deal (Uh huh) You niggas got the deal and figured out how to steal (Yeah) Hood baby, now my niggas out in Brazil (Yeah!) Big house on a hill and liquor fountain to spill (Uh) At nineteen I knew how it feel countin’ a mil’ (Baby) Countdown to a brand new deal I’m finna to kill (Uh) You think it’d be a break for a real nigga in ‘08 But naw it’s been the year of the snake [Verse 2] Slither round here and that heat’ll make you melt (Tsss) I fuck around and skin them niggas make me a belt From lemon to Roosevelt (Yeah!) A G’naire’s felt, you can easily get dealt with bleedin’ all on ya self Hood nigga, hormone went from G.E.D. to wealth Two bucks on the speedom’ you can’t see em’ he ain’t stealth I’m checkin’ in a six star pod, ya red roofin’ (Uh) Speakin’ of red roofin’ I bishop in juice em’ Fuck it less confusion, my niggas can’t use em’ (Nah) You bouta’ see some cribs gave up and niggas movin’ (movin’) I don’t know what these fuck niggas provin’ I rule em’ time to tick bomb and tie it to em’ (to em’) [Outro: Lloyd Banks] (Laughing) Yeah!