Lloyd Banks — Father Time (H.F.M. 2. 2010)
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Father Time (H.F.M. 2. 2010) Lloyd Banks03:25
Текст песни: Father Time (H.F.M. 2. 2010)
Father Time Lyrics[Hook] Yeah they see me moving They gonna need to stop, drop Off the face of Earth but, I'mma make it pop, hot These niggas are not, now Watch me take my spot Got money got power and respect baby I just hope times on my side I've been trying all my life Every block someones dying Always high, here's our life, come inside [Verse 1] Energy's my ammunition, like AK shells So think about that when you plan on dissing, go straight to hell Bred to be balling since a baby kicking I had the smell, brand new money ladies sniffing, they take a L I take a shit on rappers all it's worth Can't die over, must conquer the world first Like a monster to media on my beautiful girls search High and low I am no thing you tamper with Made the plan you should cancel it, make examples I trample shit Drop your hair I am cancerous, answer this, who can handle this? Scandalous, I dismantle these ants and piss on a trucer You think I seen the future, how I wham, quick recouper Fire hand, wham turn a brand new man, big producer Gift from heaven, living legend and I come from Queens Robbing leggin' 3-5-7 in my fucking jeans Suffering and fucked up schemes Twin Bentleys matching beamers on a couple beams Try my sentencing [Hook] [Verse 2] Murdered half of y'all on my mixtapes Come wrapped up in my wrath Now I'm laughing look at your rib cage Your ass been in a slump Cum blasting all in your bitch face Success is what they want Tongue lashing will get your shit sprayed Have it how you want, blood bath I'm a sharpened switchblade You'll be smiling for life Love flashing I got the shit made Forget where I'm at, now I passed 'em around the sixth grade Passion for my profession outlast anyone you could name Hood fame got me riding in wood grain Look lame, Staten, Harlem to Brooklyn They know I'm cooked 'caine took aim rappin would bang I could change, but this sport ain't a good game I'm strapping sir, back seat in the passenger, semi-auto massacre Shopping while I laugh at you, rappers feed my appetite Metaphors will tackle you, 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 [Hook]2
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