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Lloyd Banks - Payback Lyrics



Lloyd Banks - Payback Lyrics




[Intro: Lloyd Bank$]
Yeah!
Yeah, yeah, yeah... yeah! (uh!)
Yeah! (and my music's 'bout the money!)
Yeah, yeah!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeaaah!

[Lloyd Bank$:]
Uh! - I meet my Ford at the corner store
Y'all niggas rapping out here. - I just want it more.
Turn the music down, you can hear my stomach roar,
Bagged a hundred bitches last year, just bagged a hundred more!
They hatin'! - But everything that goes, comes back,
Sticky green fun pack jewellery make me hump back! (wooo!)
Back packers want that. - And they ain't 'bout the diamonds shit!
He gon' commercial, who you think they rhyming with?
I got the drama, kid. (kid!) - And my Obama whip,
Bitches running up on my stage. - Lil' mama shit. (uh!)
Lil' mama thick. (thick!) - And my time is slim.
Gone 'bout thirty minutes after I put the condom in. (yeah!)

[Chorus:]
[50 Cent:]
I'm gettin' the douuugh, Louie on my foot
Put the metal to the floooor is all a nigga knooow!
[Lloyd Bank$:]
Payback! (payback!) - Don't come around disrespecting,
We don't take that! (take that!) I'm on my leathers every second.
[50 Cent:]
And my hearts so cooold, man I don't trust a soul
It's funny how the bullshit goes, you never knooow!
[Lloyd Bank$:]
Payback! (payback!) - Don't come around and disrespecting,
We don't take that! (take that!) - I'm on my leathers every second.

[Lloyd Bank$:]
They crown me with the punch hat; who better?
I hit red skins, smoke green and spit blue pepper. (uh!)
Benz blue leather! (uh!) - Jet cool weather. (uh!)
Cool meaning hot (hot!) so I don't need the top!
Calm down, breath and stop! - I'm a start an' I'm a skip your pulse
Mister my life's the shit, Calamari shrimp and boats. (yeah!)
C-notes. - 5 Ferrari, different coast.
I'm a suits 'em up probably ain't gotta lift my toes!
"I Shut my doors on 'em like Jehova's Witness,
I done made it to the top like I said. - I told you bitches! (told you bitches!)
They don't really want me, they just want my riches (yeah!)
So muthaf*ck the law! - Freends, cousins and sisters! (uh-huh!)

[Chorus]

[Lloyd Bank$:]
I turn the club to TV, come "Dancin' With The Stars" (uh!)
Then I'm in ya ear, in her ear, amping a menage. (yeah!)
Niggas, they made it money, but never knew how it felt, (uh-huh!)
In a hundred pair pants, that's a hundred different belts.
Dress kills, chronic helps! - Pussy just for the moment. (for the moment!)
Ballin' like a Hornet, see it? Get it, I want it! (get it, I want it!)
Everybody knows, heat hurts you got to show me first (first!)
Magician! - But I can turn them to a Holy Ghost.
You can bring two, three, four of them, the wars won
Tick-tock, boom! Make 'em all run, come on son! (come on son!)
Big talks just talk. - I let my money bark
Put my Ferrari in park - give 'em a running start.
Go! (go!) - Cause I don't feel a single drop of pressure
No! - He will strap a foreign guap collector! (uh!)
He better stop all the hate! - He know my ends straight,
I clap your girl make the bed break; leak the sex tape!

[Chorus x2]

[Outro: Lloyd Bank$]
Still M.O.B, tho!
Yeah!
Yeah, yeah, yeah... yeah!
Yeah, yeah!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeaaah! [beat fades out]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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[Intro: Lloyd Bank$]
Yeah!
Yeah, yeah, yeah... yeah! (uh!)
Yeah! (and my music's 'bout the money!)
Yeah, yeah!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeaaah!

[Lloyd Bank$:]
Uh! - I meet my Ford at the corner store
Y'all niggas rapping out here. - I just want it more.
Turn the music down, you can hear my stomach roar,
Bagged a hundred bitches last year, just bagged a hundred more!
They hatin'! - But everything that goes, comes back,
Sticky green fun pack jewellery make me hump back! (wooo!)
Back packers want that. - And they ain't 'bout the diamonds shit!
He gon' commercial, who you think they rhyming with?
I got the drama, kid. (kid!) - And my Obama whip,
Bitches running up on my stage. - Lil' mama shit. (uh!)
Lil' mama thick. (thick!) - And my time is slim.
Gone 'bout thirty minutes after I put the condom in. (yeah!)

[Chorus:]
[50 Cent:]
I'm gettin' the douuugh, Louie on my foot
Put the metal to the floooor is all a nigga knooow!
[Lloyd Bank$:]
Payback! (payback!) - Don't come around disrespecting,
We don't take that! (take that!) I'm on my leathers every second.
[50 Cent:]
And my hearts so cooold, man I don't trust a soul
It's funny how the bullshit goes, you never knooow!
[Lloyd Bank$:]
Payback! (payback!) - Don't come around and disrespecting,
We don't take that! (take that!) - I'm on my leathers every second.

[Lloyd Bank$:]
They crown me with the punch hat; who better?
I hit red skins, smoke green and spit blue pepper. (uh!)
Benz blue leather! (uh!) - Jet cool weather. (uh!)
Cool meaning hot (hot!) so I don't need the top!
Calm down, breath and stop! - I'm a start an' I'm a skip your pulse
Mister my life's the shit, Calamari shrimp and boats. (yeah!)
C-notes. - 5 Ferrari, different coast.
I'm a suits 'em up probably ain't gotta lift my toes!
"I Shut my doors on 'em like Jehova's Witness,
I done made it to the top like I said. - I told you bitches! (told you bitches!)
They don't really want me, they just want my riches (yeah!)
So muthaf*ck the law! - Freends, cousins and sisters! (uh-huh!)

[Chorus]

[Lloyd Bank$:]
I turn the club to TV, come "Dancin' With The Stars" (uh!)
Then I'm in ya ear, in her ear, amping a menage. (yeah!)
Niggas, they made it money, but never knew how it felt, (uh-huh!)
In a hundred pair pants, that's a hundred different belts.
Dress kills, chronic helps! - Pussy just for the moment. (for the moment!)
Ballin' like a Hornet, see it? Get it, I want it! (get it, I want it!)
Everybody knows, heat hurts you got to show me first (first!)
Magician! - But I can turn them to a Holy Ghost.
You can bring two, three, four of them, the wars won
Tick-tock, boom! Make 'em all run, come on son! (come on son!)
Big talks just talk. - I let my money bark
Put my Ferrari in park - give 'em a running start.
Go! (go!) - Cause I don't feel a single drop of pressure
No! - He will strap a foreign guap collector! (uh!)
He better stop all the hate! - He know my ends straight,
I clap your girl make the bed break; leak the sex tape!

[Chorus x2]

[Outro: Lloyd Bank$]
Still M.O.B, tho!
Yeah!
Yeah, yeah, yeah... yeah!
Yeah, yeah!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeaaah! [beat fades out]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Charles Lloyd, Curtis Jackson, Daniel Garcia, Francis Ubiera, Kenny Nolan
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG Rights Management, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

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