"Large On The Streets" lyrics - LLOYD BANKS

Memory drops from blood shed
Sour dough, 'nuff bread
In position of power though, chumps dead
Backstabbers and cowards get trunk beds
I'm violent when unfed, P-L's'll give the challengers bump heads
Met him, didn't mean it, shouldn't have said it
Insults are remembered, we all looking to set it
Don't play with me, you'll regret it
'Cause I target the man before the edit
Leave you like hard tops, beheaded
I keep cream, the pistol's my street team
Triples on my sweet beam
Crystals in my lap, I'm a beach dream
The skyscraper, South Jamaica to foreign paper
I dominate ya, my shine shows a thousand acres
I knocked 7 bitches down in Vegas
Knock 7 pictures down, I'm famous
I gotta work
Congratulate me with a lot of purp'
I'm straight as a collar shirt, money to the collar bone, gotta hurt
Million-dollar condo windows, my view spotless
New watches; can't see over my shoe boxes
I hold a big grudge, can't maintain no cool conscience
Smooth offense, high middle the news conference
New sponsors, hoes trickin' from how I dick em'
Ten orgasm's more they gon' powder six him
She ever had a grimey thought I shook it out her system
On cloud nine I smoke like a politician
Southside! Yellin' it every rhyme I'm spitting
Pop eyes and long sides from rides driven
Lil homie been smokin', he 11 now
Product of the same neighborhood, hope it don't let him down
Don't go poppin' off your mouth, horror show and I go loco
Lloyd lost in time, hear my nineteen-ninety fo' flow
Came with the yellow
Gardener with the Rose Gold
Him with the platinum crush ice, give your nose cold
Trainer with the raps
Dirty boxer with the low blows
Famous for my tats
Keep straps for you and so so
Flat line, I put a MC to rest
Chipped up shoulder, ill like the Fila F
They gave me some of what's mine, feel like I need the rest
Middle the summer's my shine, bricks of reefer stress
I got 'em hoppin' out of character
My gun caliber will lift a babbler
Bars hard as Africa
Karma's a trafficker, her challenge is a root statistic
Pardon my picnic, toolie on, Mr. Fix It
My ups and downs got me lookin' at these bitches different (fuck 'em)
Starin' at my dad and these pictures twisted
I ain't your normal, my shit terrific
I figured I warn you, the bigger ticket
You big ball of corn you
I hope it's on you, Lord knows a nigga push me
I sit him on wheels, all you get is midget pussy
Cookies
Oh your spot snatched, I pop back
Radio hijack, get it all 'fore I die rap
My contacts help draggin' you on my soundtrack
Border built for combat, two-ten and beyond that