We Run the Town
[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]
Do you have any idea what you stumbled on?
Quick chills everytime son is on
I'm heating up and I'm 'bout to pop
My style came from the sons of corn
Shine so bright, give the crowd shades
Might get burned when the son perform
On point, cause you don't get two mistakes
There’s rules and apes, I’m jungle born
All proceeds to myself, foreign G’s on these belts
You cold freezing, I’m so evil
See me no season, we stealth
Banks got the game in a headlock
This ain't gon' feel like a leg shot
More like I'm rammin' y'all, with a cannon ball
I air you out 'til your head pop
Now everybody poppin' shit, cause I'm popular
Think I just seen a binocular
Put me anywhere and I'll stand out
Kick a sixteen to the opera
Figured I bring out a throwback
Bet the bitch look mean, and they jockin' her
But I'm game tight and you know that
And I'm yellin' out "Where the hoes at?"
Sellin' out of the Kodak
Tell 'em that I'll never go back
Killin' 'em, now let the dough stack
Still be a legend with no plaque
Million dollar my doormat
I get 'em with one of my old raps
I'm chillin' in somethin' exclusive
On the Southside, nigga hold that
[Chorus: Lloyd Banks]
Shouts to my bitches, I got a million
Fuck all my haters, fuck how they feelin'
My money is up, up to the ceiling
Your buzz done died down, I did the killin shit
We run the town, G'd up, hoodies down
We run the town, G'd up, hoodies down
[Verse 2: Vado]
Ayo, my mask on like gimme dat
Mags long, we empty that
Act wrong we clap strong
Air max on my Fendi strap
Four door that Bentley black
Light cars drop plenty racks
Four fours we spark fours
You want more than these snitchin' caps
Far from hungry, who?
Nigga you don't know what they put me through
Shit I came from the block with a rock from the stu
When you were tryna block, shoot the rock, go to school
Never thought ? cops even move
Or even when it's hot ? play it cool
Yeah I served that, where you learn that from?
? clean get the mop with the tool
Bossling, they call me Rothstein
The safe deposit through Rolls Royces, gulf stream
Walk in closets show every brand of cloth seen
I wear my pockets, take 50 grand exhausting
[Chorus: Lloyd Banks]
Shouts to my bitches, I got a million
Fuck all my haters, fuck how they feelin'
My money is up, up to the ceiling
Your buzz done died down, I did the killin shit
We run the town, G'd up, hoodies down
We run the town, G'd up, hoodies down