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Home Sweet Home (Feat. Pusha T)
Lloyd Banks
[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]
Yeah, twenty miles an hour in my long Bentley
Shame on you hater, this what the Lord sent me
Shit lately I’ve been practicing my gas face
Cause that’s what I’ma give 'em when they land in last place
Hand right by the hammer, ain't too many seein Santa]
So they wanna take my gifts, but I wrap em with the fif'
My regular scent is piff, currency, and Cashmere
You done drove your bitch away, I told her she can crash here
Yeah I’m counting paper like the cashier
Living like I’m limited, breathing like it’s my last air
My boy in and out the box, super stupid soldier
Told me if he could do it again he’d do it over
Poverty’s king cobra, squeeze your life out
Cause it's the fatalities and causalities I should write ’bout
These rappers ain’t iced out, they just fooling niggas
Running round town fakers, zirconian cubic niggas
[Hook]
Only money matters in the game, fuck the fame
I gotta eat dollar signs, feed my hunger pain
Music like heroin, leave you numb the same
Play me like I’m something sweet, be apart of summer slaying
Most hate it most doubt it, that's what they shout it
I’m on top now, there’s nothing they can do about it
Y'all better have y'all guns out
Cause walking where I’m from, there ain't no way around it
Home sweet home
[Verse 2: Pusha T]
You motherfuckers can rap 'til you blue in the face
You’ll probably turn into smurfs with the time that you waste
Throughout history they thrown shots at the greats
But I shoot back, the Lord ain't designed me for hate
I’ve never understood Martin Luther with the speech
With the whole world watching me, turn the other cheek?
Never, so there’s one left to die in the streets
Cause his long arms happen to connect with his reach
Try to kill you then, them near misses was God’s kisses
True Hollywood Story, ghetto Todd Bridges
Diff'rent Strokes that nigga broke, this nigga rich
You only read about the cars that I paddle shift
You only dream about the hoes that I dabble with
Balcony views like a postcard, imagine this
White stones, black steel, cold chrome
This city’s my doormat, bitch I'm home sweet home
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Lloyd Banks]
Niggas see me where you see me, shit I'm always seen
Off the Queens magazines, pissy hallway scenes
Paying crowds, hunger screams, pressure crumbles teams
Fuck being humble in the jungle where they fumble dreams
Drugs for the living, Henny payment for the body
Crosses for the power, ghetto bitches for the smiley
Pitbull, I bit my way out the cage, whats happening?
Competition got me on the Rampage, Jackson
Part of my reaction to they corny ass raps
Keep flirting with death and get your horny ass clapped
Back for more me, rat tat, kiss the ring, beat respect out them
Bloody heads, turn Timberlands to red bottoms
Fifty bottles just a start now that's how you do it
Carbon fiber through the Spyder playing rider music
Ain't no question of my resume, I gotta prove it
Life’s a bitch and I get blowjobs recliner to it
[Hook]
compositores: CHRISTOPHER CHARLES LLOYD,TERRENCE THORNTON,WILLIAM ALVIN MOSS
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Compartilhe com seus amigos.
Yeah, twenty miles an hour in my long Bentley
Shame on you hater, this what the Lord sent me
Shit lately I’ve been practicing my gas face
Cause that’s what I’ma give 'em when they land in last place
Hand right by the hammer, ain't too many seein Santa]
So they wanna take my gifts, but I wrap em with the fif'
My regular scent is piff, currency, and Cashmere
You done drove your bitch away, I told her she can crash here
Yeah I’m counting paper like the cashier
Living like I’m limited, breathing like it’s my last air
My boy in and out the box, super stupid soldier
Told me if he could do it again he’d do it over
Poverty’s king cobra, squeeze your life out
Cause it's the fatalities and causalities I should write ’bout
These rappers ain’t iced out, they just fooling niggas
Running round town fakers, zirconian cubic niggas
[Hook]
Only money matters in the game, fuck the fame
I gotta eat dollar signs, feed my hunger pain
Music like heroin, leave you numb the same
Play me like I’m something sweet, be apart of summer slaying
Most hate it most doubt it, that's what they shout it
I’m on top now, there’s nothing they can do about it
Y'all better have y'all guns out
Cause walking where I’m from, there ain't no way around it
Home sweet home
[Verse 2: Pusha T]
You motherfuckers can rap 'til you blue in the face
You’ll probably turn into smurfs with the time that you waste
Throughout history they thrown shots at the greats
But I shoot back, the Lord ain't designed me for hate
I’ve never understood Martin Luther with the speech
With the whole world watching me, turn the other cheek?
Never, so there’s one left to die in the streets
Cause his long arms happen to connect with his reach
Try to kill you then, them near misses was God’s kisses
True Hollywood Story, ghetto Todd Bridges
Diff'rent Strokes that nigga broke, this nigga rich
You only read about the cars that I paddle shift
You only dream about the hoes that I dabble with
Balcony views like a postcard, imagine this
White stones, black steel, cold chrome
This city’s my doormat, bitch I'm home sweet home
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Lloyd Banks]
Niggas see me where you see me, shit I'm always seen
Off the Queens magazines, pissy hallway scenes
Paying crowds, hunger screams, pressure crumbles teams
Fuck being humble in the jungle where they fumble dreams
Drugs for the living, Henny payment for the body
Crosses for the power, ghetto bitches for the smiley
Pitbull, I bit my way out the cage, whats happening?
Competition got me on the Rampage, Jackson
Part of my reaction to they corny ass raps
Keep flirting with death and get your horny ass clapped
Back for more me, rat tat, kiss the ring, beat respect out them
Bloody heads, turn Timberlands to red bottoms
Fifty bottles just a start now that's how you do it
Carbon fiber through the Spyder playing rider music
Ain't no question of my resume, I gotta prove it
Life’s a bitch and I get blowjobs recliner to it
[Hook]
compositores: CHRISTOPHER CHARLES LLOYD,TERRENCE THORNTON,WILLIAM ALVIN MOSS
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Compartilhe com seus amigos.
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