"Bags Of Gold" lyrics - LLOYD BANKS

Uh, my first slip was my last wound
Destined to make it since my half moon
I murder shit, the industry's my bathroom
Bills, bitches and Benzes, the rapper's three B's
Now I remember seeing your name while I was snapping CD's
Always the topic of the boss, sneak these
Bubble the profit, can't stop it, weed jars, double R's, sweet keys
I need a blade to shave the ice down on my heart, deep freeze
The finer living gave me suave street dreams, I'm made for winning
Girl my wardrobe stays the bomb, shades on, suede and linen
Let professionals perform, they gone, I play the villain
Revolutionary, flexing my arms for black culture
Take a hit of this, go jump off the roof, you smoke crack, don't ya?
White fatigue crawl on the clip, I'm super strapped, soldier
Album give the world an eclipse, recouped and back colder
Save the drama for my commas, I'm greedy still
Take back the little knowledge from my novice
I dream of dollars

[Chorus:]
This is duffel bags of gold, and diamonds for the soul
Devil tried to pin a nigga down, I'm climbing out the hole
Put the pressure on and watch it take its toll
We done made it out the stops, only the top gon' make me whole
They want to move it slow, but ain't got no control
Everything they had to throw we threw back, we'll never fold
Nigga, getting paper don't get old
Just when you thought it was safe, uh, reload!

Uh, descendants of the biggest of fools, your family's clowns
Envy stares from my weak peers, sharing my hand me downs
Better air heads, I'm slamming 'em like Anthony Towns
Climbing heights, paint the stairs red, uh, champion crown
Call your muscle, don't need a weak link cramping my style
Born to hustle, the devil's a lie amping you now
Who's your witness?
Remove all your stripes, rendered defenseless
Handing flyers out to serve you your faith, dead at the entrance
I'm relentless, my training's extreme, killed my apprentice
Oops, take it out on your troops, regime relinquished
You niggas take too many pictures, very suspicious
Know the latest news and all the glitches, envy the bitches
Dawg I'm money hungry, calling my line.. better be business
You an opp dummy, gon' need divine heavenly scriptures
Put these wave-riders all in one rhyme, tell me the difference
Throw your name under, clean up the mess, bury the scissors

[Chorus:]
This is duffel bags of gold, and diamonds for the soul
Devil tried to pin a nigga down, I'm climbing out the hole
Put the pressure on and watch it take its toll
We done made it out the stops, only the top gon' make me whole
They want to move it slow, but ain't got no control
Everything they had to throw we threw back, we'll never fold
Nigga, getting paper don't get old
Just when you thought it was safe, uh, reload!