Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Food, artist - Lloyd Banks. Date of issue: 03.06.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Food |
| Being liked was never in my list of plans |
| I give a fuck about your Instagram |
| I give a fuck about your Twitter |
| Don’t follow me, you see me in the street, nigga |
| I’m a giant, noisy foosteps can’t sneak with ya |
| Been moving shit, next move is a fleet flicker |
| Still makin' em sick like sweet liquor |
| Book full of told you’s in my MVP picture |
| 90% of my songs gloomy, I’m bar heavy |
| I brought them bitches out a dark room like R. Kelly |
| Gorilla papers keep the car smelly |
| Thinkin' I won’t line you up, dead wrong on the contrary |
| Diamonds on my pimp hand, my buckles strapped Ferrogam' |
| Scrollin' like a six man, caught a pound a marathon |
| I’m waitin' the day when all of my bad habits gone |
| Money, power, respect, all the above added on |
| The fuck can niggas tell me, dog? |
| Nothin' |
| You walk around frontin', prolly gon' get into somethin' |
| Niggas’d be food, never dinner function |
| Better keep your cool, or pretend, or somethin' |
| Me and Blue again (What up?) |
| Blue steel in the foreign, yeah, I’m a CEO but move like a hooligan |
| If I’m in the club, then the owner gon' let the shooter in |
| Stick it in car oil, baby oil, and lubricant |
| Known to set trip, you only trippin', you Uberin' |
| We in Godspeed for the time that I’m maneuvering |
| Yeah, I’m at it like black lives |
| Baptized in the black five on 9−5 with a crack pie |
| Lloyd, we think of Floyd Mayweather and George |
| You don’t smoke out the sunroof, talk to the lord |
| Thank God for the stash box in the Accord (Thank God) |
| All the old school drug dealers rocking Valor |
| Arm leg or leg or arm head intake these |
| That’s the act, I sold crack just to bread me |
| And I stuck niggas too, and I cut niggas too |
| They like, «Fuck Gooks,» but I be like, «Fuck niggas» too, what? |
| The fuck can niggas tell me, dog? |
| Nothin' |
| You walk around frontin', prolly gon' get into somethin' |
| Niggas’d be food, never dinner function |
| Better keep your cool, or pretend, or somethin' |
| Bet they hit their boyfriends with the okey-doke |
| Prepare for the hoe-down, this ain’t her first rodeo |
| Watch me break this shit down like polio |
| The fuckin' world can turn on a nigga long as the homies don’t |
| From South Jamaica to San Antonio |
| Seven days of targeted paper raining colonial |
| Killin' for years, my ceremonies do |
| I feel disrespected when niggas tell me my clone is you |
| If I should jump out the window, it’s necessary |
| You got something to say to me, tell my secretary |
| Request an order for June, see you in February |
| Thirty’ll get you a V, just have the edit ready |
| I been legendary, this is my second tour |
| Fuck the company, what’s a building to a wreckin' ball? |
| Bunch of bitch ass niggas that need an epidural |
| Take the Cuban links off, get 'em a neck of pearls |
| The fuck can niggas tell me, dog? |
| Nothin' |
| You walk around frontin', prolly gon' get into somethin' |
| Niggas’d be food, never dinner function |
| Better keep your cool, or pretend, or somethin' |