Lloyd Banks - Gilmore's Lyrics

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Yea Whoooooooooooooooooo

You niggas know what time it is

Its time for that gangsta shit

[Chorus]

We aint 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 muthaphuka out there

My heart cold and my wrist rock

You could fuck around and die over Hip Hop

[Verse 1]

I treat a dollar like a mill countin every bill

'cause if i don't watch mine another muthaphuka will

I went double but i still tuck the steel

Im 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 aint never had a pop. poppa never had a son

Nobody to go get so i aint 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

Aint nuthin funny just a whole lotta anger

Mind of a leader drama of a gangbanger

If a nigga come on property i aint gonna call

There'll be a splatter on ya shirt and it aint paintball

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Source - http://www.kovideo.net/gilmore-s-lyrics-lloyd-banks-493792.html

[Chorus]

We aint 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 muthaphuka out there

My heart cold and my wrist rock

You could fuck around and die over Hip Hop

[Verse 2]

I don't follow no rules im gettin in here with the town

And if i don't we gonn' burn this muthaphuka down

Im comin thru swingin like they do in H-Town

And i roll down the window and spin ya bitch face around

Im a stunna hoggin 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 ya head popped all over the street

And i aint got nuthin for em but the heat

My lil brother want jewelry and Jordans on his feet

Now they recognize if ya slaughterin the beat

And if it wasn't for rappin I'd have ya 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!

[Chorus]

We aint 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 muthaphuka out there

My heart cold and my wrist rock

You could fuck around and die over Hip Hop

Send "Gilmore's" ringtone to your cell