Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Til The End, artist - Lloyd Banks. Album song The Hunger For More, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: G Unit, Interscope
Song language: English
Til The End |
Nobody there knew they would die before they woke |
They probably started off a beautiful day with weed smoke |
Out of last night’s pussy, the murder that she wrote |
Cold sweatin from a nightmare, mind on a C-note |
You leave the door with intentions of fulfillin your visions |
Constantly sidetracked, thinkin bout who’s your man or who isn’t |
Maybe it’s necessary — maybe you’re overreactin |
Maybe your actual downfall is that ho that you’re clappin |
Maybe your pillow conversations been controllin the actions |
Maybe your homey overheard and never told you what happened |
You look behind you when you turn the corner, cause death is promised |
You done seen some niggaz go before ya, the threats are honest |
And with that lingerin in the back of your head |
You know it’s possible that you won’t make it back in your bed |
The confusion and jealousy and dishonor’ll spin ya But then none come worse than when that gunpowder’s in ya If you my nigga, you my nigga til the end |
Fuck a bill, fuck a bitch, fuck a Benz |
Let’s toast til we die |
Roll up the weed and blow the smoke in the sky — la da da |
If you my nigga, you my nigga til we go One of the few I would take a bullet fo' |
Let’s toast til we die |
Roll up the weed and blow the smoke in the sky — la da da |
The smell of marijuana wreaks often |
I raise hell 'fore I speak softly, quotin the Knicks |
Put at least a hungred grand on one hand, bought him a 6 |
Acknowledged the weaknesses that his man taught him to fix |
We ain’t never left the hood, so we camcorded the trips |
I done watched the nigga go from BET to the Bricks, shit |
The slanted eyes what the chocolate thai gave me |
I’m a bachelor, nigga you ain’t knockin my lady |
A lot of these niggaz been jockin mine lately |
And I hope you catch the long and that rock-a-bye baby |
We two brothers, pitched outta different mommas |
Close enough to conflict and put the shit behind us Your baby boy meet the daytime |
Oldest watchin and these niggaz tryin to get mine |
Remember back then the lines in your flat top |
Hopin your moms ain’t the momma on crack rock |
Keep my, mind on my money, and my head to the sky |
I never really smile much, if you was here you’d know why |
There’s frustration and fire if you look in my eye |
The media fuckin me up, right hookin my high |
Niggaz hated on us 'fore the game took us inside |
Then they opened they arms wide, took the whoopin and cried |
I got a platinum plaque hangin on the wall of my crib |
And handsome’s one of the things they been callin the kid |
They watch you close when you coppin all the VS stones |
If you ain’t tryin to get it poppin, leave the BS home |
I got a saditty broad that gives the best dome |
And I’m blowin on some of the finest weed that’s grown, homes |
You won’t know when they gon’dump a slug |
But you can tell I’m gettin money from the line out in front the club |
My whole click caked up, you can’t compare the dough |
And if it’s only one bitch, then we gon’share the ho |
(If you my nigga you my nigga til the end. my friend) |
la da da |
(If you my nigga you my nigga til we go. my niggarole) |
. |
la da da |