Lyrics Story to Tell - Lloyd Banks

Story to Tell

Unpredictable nigga — always in some new beef.
At school he plans robberies on his loose leaf,
Only 17 — with' the mind of a true theif.
(yeah!)
Never had the patience required to make it
So he takes it!
— Flossin' with' the next man bracelet.
Playin' the block wasted (uh-huh!)
And nobody’ll smoke with' 'em, cause 9 times outta 10;
he laced it!
Revolvers in his backpack
Money blendin' in cause he half black, movin' through the hood like a lab rat.
Never been a good student (no done!)
Cause his whole wigs poluted, similar to the niggas he recruited.
Like nappy head Chris — Pretty Ricky and Ronnie.
Became best of friends, cause everyone of 'em grimey,
Before they met, they all did they share of dirt, (dirt!)
Now that they together situations only got worse.
See brew?
(uh-huh!) He the mastermind (uh-huh!) always got a mission (uh-huh!)
But his trigger finger itchy, (uh-huh!) so the average nigga listen!
(uh-huh!)
He said his neck glisten, cause he caught a nigga slippin' (uh-huh!) (yeah!)
In the Benz with' a system with his lady friend kissin';
(uh-huh!) (*gunshot*)
But now this niggas sittin — breakin' down chumps on top
Of they textbooks — gettin' ready for they next jokes.
(yeah!)
And he a big timer.
I know his girlfriend Rolanda!
She live Uptown by Pearl’s Diner.
The only thing left now is to find her
And get in her vagina.
And send Ricky,
The bitch picky.
Weeks passed with her is no quickies — and walkin' through the city;
(uh-huh!)
His eyes tattooed on her titties.
They stopped for drinks, drinks led to the crib
Crib led to the bed, bed led to a head.
He popped the question, she said exactly where he stayed at
Cause he cheated on her twice and this is a way of payback.
Now he on his way back, to Queens (wha'?)
Weapon in his jeans, goin' over the directions to the cream.
But while he was gone, Ronny and Chris got arrested, (yup!)
Doing a side jynx nobody really expected.
(yo!)
Now shits gettin' hectic — a four man army
Turned to 2 niggas — four arms and two triggers.
But they ain’t care, they can smell the money in the air;
bust in the house,
Loaded chrome stuffed in his mouth.
Made him sit the fuck on the couch,
Snuffin' him out!
And ran to the back room,
Punchin' holes through the bathroom.
They found the stash (uh-huh) — ziplock bags
Full of cash!
Along side of some potent ass hash.
A week passed!
— Brew actin' funny,
Cause he ain’t like the idea of another nigga with' money.
— YEAH!
DAMN!
«MONEY IN THE BANK»… PART 1!
IT’S NOT FAIR!
LLOYD BANK$!
NEXT ON LINE!
SADA POP!