| Yea, Whoooooooooooooooooo
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| You niggas know what time it is Its time for that gangsta shit
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| We aint got shit to live for
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| Your either headed for the pen or your on your way to Gilmore
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| In the middle of the real war
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| Cause a five dollar bill is the shit niggas kill for
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| I make million out yeah
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| I dont care about a muthaphuka out there
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| My heart cold and my wrist rock
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| You could fuck around and die over Hip Hop
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| I treat a dollar like a mill, countin every bill
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| Cuz if i dont watch mine another muthaphuka will
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| I went double but i still tuck the steel
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| Im the truth, why the fuck you think 50 cut the deal
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| Rollin in a bag of D when you cut the seal
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| When i bling the paint job on a Coupe De Ville
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| I aint never had a pop. |
| poppa never had a son
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| Nobody to go get, so i aint never run
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| They chat behind my back but they quiet when i come
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| They treat a lil nigga like a giant with a gun
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| I walk with a swagger like i always had money
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| Cuz i know, they rather see my black ass bummy
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| Aint nuthin funny just a whole lotta anger
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| Mind of a leader, drama of a gangbanger
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| If a nigga come on property i aint gonna call
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| There’ll be a splatter on ya shirt, and it aint paintball
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| We aint got shit to live for
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| 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
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| I dont care about a muthaphuka out there
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| My heart cold and my wrist rock
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| You could fuck around and die over Hip Hop
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| I dont follow no rules im gettin in here with the town
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| And if i dont, we gonn’burn this muthaphuka down
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| Im comin thru swingin like they do in H-Town
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| And i roll down the window and spin ya bitch face around
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| Im a stunna, hoggin up the lane like the Hummer
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| Till the wheel run dry like the rain in the summer
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| Even the broke nigga cant afford to go to sleep
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| Fuck around and get ya head popped all over the street
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| And i aint got nuthin for em but the heat
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| My lil brother want jewelry and Jordans on his feet
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| Now, they recognize if ya slaughterin the beat
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| And if it wasnt for rappin, I’d have ya daughter on the street
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| 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!
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| We aint got shit to live for
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| 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 dont care about a muthaphuka out there
|
| My heart cold and my wrist rock
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| You could fuck around and die over Hip Hop |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Gilmore's, artist - Lloyd Banks. Album song Rotten Apple, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп