Lloyd Banks - Sugar Hill (Freestyle) lyrics

Published

0 291 0

Lloyd Banks - Sugar Hill (Freestyle) lyrics

Uh Banks sh** is real, baby sh** is real, baby Yo, uh Ain’t got no time for b-rolling I’m thinking cla**ics My back is against the world army plated with ratchets Perhaps there’s something wrong with my mind and I’m thinking backwards But it seems the Devil latches on you harder when you got the package f** understanding, all we ask is you stay in your lane Embrace your bracket, [?] acid in my army jacket Certain the day I retire I’m in the rafters You actors and ungroomed ba*tards that needs to practice Still getting [?] off my appetizer Nothin’ left to do but strive until we’re back to back on [?] and the hood on fire God bless the child that turned Bovada Your Honor, I swear to live good, excuse my karma Write your [?] duckin’ propaganda [?] The function plan, I hold a hostile manner They want you in an out the slammer, keep you out fly Coups and cameras Paper high’s my demeanors Bring life to the canvas, give it all back sh**, I’d be damned if I just said I’ll vanish Millionaire at the minimum Seek to mesmerize and seems that kicks’ll come when you’re down, it couldn’t be better timing The finest diner, here’s the enterprise and build a empire Not to be televised, as time goes on it’s hella diamonds Still pissed I can’t rewind, it glitches Only time for business Jumping hurdles, it’ll work itself out in chaotic fitness Exotic wishes made the polished dishes My chase a dollar hitless Make sure my babies get they college tickets On my a-game, they wanna see me off it That fake can [?] Me and you clashing, that’s an easy forfeit He blowed your energy up, and they wanna freebie off it just to seem important Coward out on your CB4 sh** They triflin’, guessin’ leaves the force perception You aiming at me, wrong direction Priceless gems all in my song collection “Let me hold something” is a normal question I cut the dead weight off it’s all progression Tearing comes along with flexin’ Evidence of slaughter in rooms I’m recordin’ in Trees to give my seeds and audience and Gucci ornaments sh** is real, baby sh** is real, baby Uh Sugar Hill, baby Sugar Hill, baby Uh

You need to sign in for commenting.
No comments yet.