Cake

[Intro: Lloyd Banks & (sample)]

(Money, money, money, money, cake!)

I need the cake nigga!

[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks & (sample)]

The Unit don't play (uh uh!), we rap but we strapped (yep!)

Buck got the shotgun, 50 got the MAC

Spider got the sweeper and you dyin' to hear it clap (uh huh)

You won't have another birthday (cake!) after that (WOO!)

'Cause Yayo got a temper and he don't know how to act (fuck!)

And I been gone all Winter, but now a nigga back to get the

[Chorus]

(Money) uh the (money) uh the (money)

Uh the (money) uh the (cake!)

[Verse 2: Lloyd Banks & (sample)]

And you motherfuckers lookin' like steak (WOO!)

Food on the plate for the wolves follow rules

Don't get moved by the tools blood'll ooze on your shoes

Wait (uh huh), control your hate you ain't ridin' in them sixes (why?)

'Cause you spendin' all your (cake!) on them bitches (uh)

I need the bread lil' niggas need Christmas (uh huh)

Banks don't rap with a backpack I'm in it for the

[Chorus]

(Money) uh the (money) uh the (money)

Uh the (money) uh the (cake!)

[Verse 3: 50 Cent]

Ha Ha!!! You heard Banks say it so you know I got the MAC

I pull or pull out spray hollows at your back

I don't give a fuck, it's goin down like that

I done been through every hood, dead niggas don't rat

In the heart of a victim, murder is monumental

I don't complicate shit kid, I keep it simple

My bullet wounds will tell you a story 'bout what I been through

Southside trauma, drama with the llamas

I conversate with killers, it's usually about life

Politic with bonders It's usually about white

I'm the poster child for violence, I'm the boy on the poster

When them shots start to ring out, I'm the boy with the toaster

Yeah listen up kicko, I hustle, I get dough

You fuckin' with a sicko, I spaz let a clip go

Cannon out the rental, beam to 'yo temple

I squeeze blow your mental, all over your friends (WOO!)

[Verse 4: Lloyd Banks & (sample)]

Me I'm from the street (street) where ain't nothin' sweet (sweet)

The home for the homi's there's a body every week (week)

Now I don't hear the sirens but they probably on the creep (creep)

Plottin' to pull me over plant the (cake!) in my Jeep (WOO!)

So I be skippin' cities seven states in a week (yeah)

Can't a motherfucker breathe and tell me I can't eat

Show me the

[Chorus]

(Money) uh the (money) uh the (money)

Uh the (money) uh the (cake!)

[Verse 5: Lloyd Banks & (sample)]

Nigga slow down, pump ya brakes (yeah!)

No mistakes 'cause the Jakes run the plates

Then your headed upstate for rollin 'round with a steak (uh huh)

Niggas start up the beef and run straight to the cops (uh huh!)

You a bitch ass nigga, the cup (cake!) of the block (WOO!)

Any nigga disrespect the clique gettin' shot

'Round here niggas get found upside down over the

[Chorus]

(Money) the (money) the (money)

The (money) the (cake!)