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• Artiste: Lloyd Banks
• Titre: Father Time
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[Intro:] Yeah!... I hear you... And I'm a make you shut the fuck up! [Chorus:] Yeah they see me movin They gon need to stop drop Off the face of earth but I'm a make it pop hot These niggas are not not Watch me take my spot got Money got power and respect baby I just hope times on my side I've been tryin all my life Every block someones dyin Always high heres our life Come inside [Verse 1:] Energies my ammunition Like AK shells So think about that when you plan on dissin Go straight to hell Bred to be ballin since a baby kickin I had the smell [sniffs] Brand new money ladies sniffin They take a L I take a shit on rappers horse worth Can't die must conquer the world first Like a monster to media On my beautiful girls search High and low I am no thing u tamper with Made the plan you should cancel it Make examples I trample shit Drop you here I am cancerous Answer this, who can handle this? Scandalous I dismantles these ants and pussy on a trucer You think I seen the future How I wam crip recruper Fire hand Wam became a brand new man Big producer ugh Gift from heaven Livin legend and I come from queens Robbin leggin 3-5-7 in my fuckin jeans Sufferin and fuckin up schemes Twin Bentleys Matchin beamers on a couple beams Try my sentenc-in [Chorus] [Verse 2:] Murdered half of ya'll on my mixtapes Come rap up in my wrath Now I'm laughin look at ya rib cage Ya ass been in a slump Come blastin I lend ya bitch face Success is wut they want Tongue lashin'll get ya shit sprayed Have it how you want Blood bath I'm as sharp as switchblade You'll be smilin for life Love flashin I got the shit made Forget where I'm at now I passed em around the 6th grade Passion for my profession outlast anyone you could name Hood fame got me ridin in wood grain Look lame Stanten, Harlem to Brooklyn They know I'm cooked Cain Took aim rappin would bang I could change But this sport ain't a good game I'm strappin sir Back seat in the passenger Semi-auto massacre Shoppin while I laugh at ya Rappers feed my appetite Metaphors will tackle ya These niggas ain't half as nice Playboy in my afterlife Real nigga with cash and ice Drop the bread pass the dice Hope I crack twice [Chorus]