"Not Quite Right" lyrics - LLOYD BANKS

[Hook:]
There's a couple things about you character that's
(Not quite right)
I hit your ass up right, terminate you on sight
Leave your bitch like... (screaming)
Then I'm gone with the wind like the grim
We are not like them, you got a rep but it's
(Not quite right)
Man, I hold that forty-four tight I show up, all white
Leave your bitch like... (screaming)
Then we slide, getting right on the ride

First off, nigga what your verse cost?
I put that on my first cross, Lamborghinis murk off
I hit the switch, shirt off, the roof's severed
Like a hurricane a met it, purple haze presence
And Kush bags, I got the same car Bush had
Similar beefs too, my shirt's bulletproof, my watch see through
The streets blind you while the cops beat you
Nah, the cops pop you, then pick you up and drop you
Now what would big and pac do? Probably something colossal
So who am I to break trend? My ghetto gospel
Heated and hostile, they take what they read about you
And immediately doubt you the second you make it out too
There's a cool G on my house shoe
They don't think you'll pop, they pop up when you're about to
Nigga this for the street, it ain't about you
Better run as fast as your mouth do

[Hook:]
There's a couple things about you character that's
(Not quite right)
I hit your ass up right, terminate you on sight
Leave your bitch like... (screaming)
Then I'm gone with the wind like the grim
We are not like them, you got a rep but it's
(Not quite right)
Man, I hold that forty-four tight I show up, all bright
Leave your bitch like... (screaming)
Then we slide, getting right on the ride

New nigga, old nigga, don't matter
Matter of fact line them up, they'll go faster
I'm stronger than Castro and you're casper
Nothing more than an asshole, who asked ya?
There's doe for me to capture, me and my dutch master
Chronic and my lighter, I'm tighter than any writer
A fighter block igniter, machine fire to face
The wrong look will have the doctor tying your face
I beat the odds, beat the hate blogs, and a state charge
Shit, I'm here, so I can appreciate scars
When you're smoking that paper depreciates hard
Which can feel like a foot's in the graveyard
And the other foot's direction is the pen
Gucci on the slippers, you're slipping away again
Nigga I ain't your friend 'cause you knew me back then
I honk the horn on them, pour Crystal and Dom on them

[Hook:]
There's a couple things about you character that's
(Not quite right)
I hit your ass up right, terminate you on sight
Leave your bitch like... (screaming)
Then I'm gone with the wind like the grim
We are not like them, you got a rep but it's
(Not quite right)
Man, I hold that forty-four tight I show up, all bright
Leave your bitch like... (screaming)
Then we slide, getting right on the ride