[Lloyd Banks]
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My rope all freezy, dope on the TV
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Ecstasy especially out the GT
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You next to me, you best to be holdin somethin too
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Least you can say, you let somethin fly when somethin flew
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These niggaz get hit and call they lawyer
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And try to sue you, that's a bitch nigga for ya
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I'm tough like Mayoga, and De La Hoya, I saw ya
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Man niggaz'll stack nines for that Cola
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Cause zips in my shit, I don't grow stems
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Him got 14 karats, carrots, and gold rims
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Why say somethin about my name?
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Don't jump out the window, it's safer jumpin out a plane
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I can't ditch my bitch, it's somethin 'bout her brain
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If she put her mind to it she could suck out a vein
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You don't want a lead shower stay the fuck out the rain
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There's so much ammo niggaz don't gotta aim
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[Chorus: Lloyd Banks]
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You don't get a warnin, there's no heads up when it's on
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Here it comes, ready or not
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Don't be out there snorin, one eye blink and you're gone
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Keep it cocked - and ready to pop
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The man makes no mistakes, it's been on since the day I was born
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Stop drop, or get lead in your knot
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I'm known in hip-hop, but I'm still ridin around with my chrome
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Here it comes - ready or not
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[Tony Yayo]
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Yeah, yeah
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My little shooter's 16 from the projects
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Glock-16 with the Napoleon complex
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I'm in and out the projects, my lifestyle pleasant
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You? You live life like a barbaric peasant
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Me without my gun in the streets is like a Muslim eatin pig feet
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Fuck the pigs on the street
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They all wanna off a nigga - and when these rappers
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get shot they ain't gangsta, they turn into corporate niggaz
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You die if it's rated R
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If it's PG-13 you leave with a scar
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R.I.P. to Troy and Bags, big shout to Hommo
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They got fishin money cooked, buy me the Apollo
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These model hoes swallow, I buy another bottle
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of this M.O.B. nigga, that's my motto
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These rappers ain't kings, they pawns
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And got dust bunnies on they guns
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[Chorus]
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[Lloyd Banks]
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I think God spent a lil' extra time on me
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Pop planted a miracle seed my mom ain't see
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I got a high intelligence level, I ain't no dummy
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I ain't satisfied with 10 mil', that ain't no money
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My talents are blood deep, you can't take those from me
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And my sense of humor's shot, I don't take jokes funny
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My paranoia rolls with my bullet holes
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givin me a third eye, my foes can get a magazine full of those
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The hip-hop cops follow my Suburban
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Hopin they can find a pistol on him when they search him
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I'm icier in person, they like me when I'm cursin
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So here's a dirty version, you only heard me urban
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If niggaz try to hurt him, the I-30's squirtin
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Right through your curtain, don't stop 'til you murk him
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Mechanical workin, Hechler handle's jerkin
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That'll pull the Gate in after you Heavenly church him
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[Chorus]
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-----------------
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Ready Or Not
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G-Unit |