| Nigga you shit on me, I shit on you
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| You put a hit on me, I put a hit on you
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| An eye for an eye nigga
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| Survive the shots or die nigga
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| Get 'em Banks!
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| They can’t hold me
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| I’m Lloyd Banks the one and on-ly
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| Not your buddy, not your pal, not your ho-mey
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| But ain’t a government around that can control me Oh no!!!
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| Uhh, I’m on that «Doggystyle"shit, man I don’t love a ho Poppa wasn’t 'round, so I had to let my brother know
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| Never stay at center, play the back and let your money grow
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| Most them niggas wouldn’t be around if you was bummy yo Southside Jamaica neighbor yeah that’s where I come from
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| If you see a nigga with me then there’s more than one gun
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| Fly straight soldier, ain’tcha tired of bein the dumb one
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| Or are you satisfied bein another nigga’s Dun-Dunn
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| We all know friendships turnin sour when you gettin it Some niggas hate me in the hood, but I don’t owe them niggas shit
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| Smilin all up my face like I don’t know them niggas sick
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| But I can care less, I’m on the Island and I’m gettin rich
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| Walk it and talk it, spit it how I live it nigga
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| Came from the country, Dirty South get it nigga
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| Feds try and question me, they run up in my ho-tel
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| They said there was a shootin, but they found no shells
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| New York City hell they throwin niggas under jails
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| I got love for dem and I ain’t even from dere
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| Now bust a shot for dem boys on da block
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| I can feel your pain nigga, I’m still in the game nigga
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| There’s somethin bout the sound of a trey-pound
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| That make me pull up, hop out, and make a nigga lay down
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| See every time we 'round, you hear some shots go off
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| And niggas get they chains snatched when they tryin to show off
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| Shootouts in broad day, we do it the mob way
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| And come to find out, these niggas softer than Sade'
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| I’mma keep livin my life with a pistol in my palm
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| And a wrist full of ice, you can call me a Don motherfucker
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| We got the Hei-ny
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| So make one wrong move and you’re dy-ing
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| Ain’t no time for coppin a plea and cry-ing
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| Cause my niggas ain’t gon’stop ridin'
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| So you gone
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| I got a handgun habit, nigga front I’ll let you have it When the shots go off, cops sayin 50 back at it
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| I’m allergic to the feathers on these bird-ass niggas (yea)
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| Front and I’ll put your brains on that curb fast nigga
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| I ain’t a marksman, one spark and I spray shit
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| Nuff rounds from that H-K, I don’t play bitch (uh-huh)
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| Move like I’m militant, back on that gorilla shit
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| Moody, disrespectful, unruly, but niggas can’t move me (yea)
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| I squeeze 'til I run out of ammo, if it’s a problem it’s handled
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| I have your people pourin our liquor and lightin candles
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| You fuck around I blow your brains on my New York Times
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| Run home, turn to the sports section and read your mind
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| It’s crystal clear, you should feel when that gat bust
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| First there’s crime scene tape, then you end up in that black hearse
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| We don’t go to funerals, but we’ll go to your wake fam
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| Do your body all banged up, you made a mistake man |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Eye For Eye , by - G-Unit. Song from the album Beg For Mercy, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп