| Yea, Whoooooooooooooooooo
|
| You niggas know what time it is Its time for that gangsta shit
|
| 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 dont care about a muthaphuka out there
|
| My heart cold and my wrist rock
|
| You could fuck around and die over Hip Hop
|
| I treat a dollar like a mill, countin every bill
|
| Cuz if i dont 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
|
| Cuz 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
|
| 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 dont care about a muthaphuka out there
|
| My heart cold and my wrist rock
|
| You could fuck around and die over Hip Hop
|
| I dont follow no rules im gettin in here with the town
|
| And if i dont, 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 cant 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 wasnt 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!
|
| 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 dont care about a muthaphuka out there
|
| My heart cold and my wrist rock
|
| You could fuck around and die over Hip Hop |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Gilmore's , by - Lloyd Banks. Song from the album Rotten Apple, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп