Negged
fukk,marry,kill
- Thread starter 504Slim
- Start date
Negged
Hey yo Banks you got a half-ass flow
But fukkin with homey, all you gon' get is half-assed dough
And where the fukk was you at wit ya big-ass face
When I was writin "Benjamins" with 'Kiss, Diddy and Ma$e
I ain't heard of you homey, 'til you blew up quick
But back then I'm pretty sure that you was on my dikk
I'll Rob Banks we Got Big Chrome
You & your Long Ass Dome
you look like you got down syndrome
This fakkit Talking about "the hunger for More"
i'll put the Tooley to your head, have you humping the floor
Ya boy curtis dont wont no beef
You look like a Woodchuck wit your big ass teeth
like I ain't some big star
And these young mother fukkers, is about to fukk up
Like leavin' they whole career in some bytch car
No name, but it's no sublime
nikka you know who you are, I'll end it before it goes too far
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat after me
I'm a G-Unit toy soldier
On Sesame street doing voice overs
bytch ass nikka need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I first got signed
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna borrow some lines
That's the wrong nikka, when you need help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one more time
Time to separate the men from the boys,
Take it straight to the bank, call it Christopher Lloyd,
Call it momma's little boy, or 50's little bytch,
The Rotten Apple or the protg of a snitch,
The protg of a bytch, nikka softer than a TaYBO Kick,
You Billy Blanks on them porno flicks,
With no porno chicks, only porno dikks,
You Taladamore whore with them g-string drawers,
And so therefore, I declare war,
Outside violator, meet me at four ,
Young Buck stay back, Banks put this autograph
A jorge posada glove on and let's play catch!
Hey yo Banks you got a half-ass flow
But fukkin with homey, all you gon' get is half-assed dough
And where the fukk was you at wit ya big-ass face
When I was writin "Benjamins" with 'Kiss, Diddy and Ma$e
I ain't heard of you homey, 'til you blew up quick
But back then I'm pretty sure that you was on my dikk
I'll Rob Banks we Got Big Chrome
You & your Long Ass Dome
you look like you got down syndrome
This fakkit Talking about "the hunger for More"
i'll put the Tooley to your head, have you humping the floor
Ya boy curtis dont wont no beef
You look like a Woodchuck wit your big ass teeth
like I ain't some big star
And these young mother fukkers, is about to fukk up
Like leavin' they whole career in some bytch car
No name, but it's no sublime
nikka you know who you are, I'll end it before it goes too far
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat after me
I'm a G-Unit toy soldier
On Sesame street doing voice overs
bytch ass nikka need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I first got signed
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna borrow some lines
That's the wrong nikka, when you need help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one more time
Time to separate the men from the boys,
Take it straight to the bank, call it Christopher Lloyd,
Call it momma's little boy, or 50's little bytch,
The Rotten Apple or the protg of a snitch,
The protg of a bytch, nikka softer than a TaYBO Kick,
You Billy Blanks on them porno flicks,
With no porno chicks, only porno dikks,
You Taladamore whore with them g-string drawers,
And so therefore, I declare war,
Outside violator, meet me at four ,
Young Buck stay back, Banks put this autograph
A jorge posada glove on and let's play catch!
Mad about what stop qouting me