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letra de cashing in (freestyle) - lloyd banks

[intro: dj whoo kid & lloyd banks]
whoooooooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhh!
i’m back! (mo money!)
gang green! (part 3!)
yeah, cashing in (yeah!)

[verse: lloyd banks]
yo boy’s sick, so move or the germ might touch ya
i’m at the rucker burnin’ them trees up like usher
when i teach you how to rap fam, i’m in that black van
like air ones and canaries the size of pacman, none stop
who gives a f-ck if it’s our brawl cause my dog got the windows
from the 24-hour store, i’m on the verge of flippin’
lord send me a sign fore i empty this nine and leave the board drippin’
me and 50 are like michael and pippin’, ryu and ken
whoever you send i’ma rip ’em, i’m added to d-mn society
mainly with my system, run and put ’em in the truck
like a kidnapping victim, i’m papa so they pushin’ me harder
my associates got interior motives like wishin’ his father
i figure, i rather play with’ these blades before i pass
build a ball court and go buy bentleys to go to crash
i’m headed towards my prime with metaphors and lines
and i compliment my momma with pedicures and wind
i’m line from line, the rap einstein, pound for pound, i’m tyson
aka icyin’ message for the record i ain’t sleepin’ for a second
so even if i make it there’s a tool under the pillow
god, i’m brought up, d-mn, to the v with a polish from the window
i’m a smoker so the brokas won’t leave us with the indo
i’m always with’ a pair, fore the crew looks for the bimbo
a dead meats in your daughter, i’ll f-ck her and won’t support her
i’m matching on the pedal, smile from ear to ear
middle finger in the air, before i catch her eye
keep ridin’ behind your tens f-ck, n-ggas don’t know no better
they’ll rob you for the rhinestones and your pimp cup
they goin’ off if we say n-ggas is runnin’ off from my buzz
faster than jamaicans in the relay, i’m blowin’ the kush
driving lazy in the lane, yelling money ain’t a fame and jermaine
about 80 on the chain like brady, with’ the aim
i’m the same, whether the mercedes or the train
and i may be on a plane by the end of the night, but it’s aight
i might throw, i’m rich off a mic hoe, my stamina’s low
x-rated is my type so i keep the crib packed in
no telling where it might go, living room, dining room
bedroom and bathroom, upstairs nuts smared, all over
your sasoon, ya on that fly sh-t, that south side sh-t
that i’m a sell on these 10 million before i die sh-t
i’m from the block, where the heafers be to doing show
out in pinkston, when they rocking where your peppers see
and being gangsta ain’t enough, a lil n-gga that’s stuntin’
will put a k!lla in a box like chuck – ch’eah!!

- lloyd banks

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