"Food" lyrics - LLOYD BANKS

LLOYD BANKS

"Food"

feat. Styles P

[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]
Being liked was never in my list of plans
I give a fuck about your Instagram
I give a fuck about your Twitter
Don't follow me, you see me in the street, nigga
I'm a giant, noisy footsteps can't sneak with ya
Been runnin' shit, the next move is a flea flicker
Still makin' 'em sick like sweet liquor
Book full of "told yous" in my MVP picture
Ninety percent of my songs gloomy, I'm bar heavy
I brought them bitches out a dark room like R. Kelly
Gorilla papers keep the car smelly
Thinkin' I won't line you up, dead wrong on the contrary
Diamonds on my pimp hand, my buckle strapped, Ferragam'
Scorin' like a six man, quarter pound of Marathon
Awaitin' a day when all of my bad habits gone
Money, power, respect, all the above added on

[Chorus: Lloyd Banks]
The fuck can niggas tell me, dog? Nothin'
You walk around frontin', prolly gon' get into somethin'
Niggas'd be food, never dinner function
Better keep your cool or pretend, or somethin'

[Verse 2: Styles P]
Me and Blue again (What up?)
Blue steel in the foreign, yeah, I'm a CEO but move like a hooligan
If I'm in the club, then the owner gon' let the shooter in
Stick it in car oil, baby oil and lubricant
Known to set trip, you only trip when you Uberin'
Went in godspeed for the time that I'm maneuvering
Yeah, I matter like Black lives
Baptized in the black five on nine-five with a crack pie
Lloyd, we think of Floyd Mayweather and George
Blowin' smoke out the sunroof, talk to the lord
Thank God for the stash box in the Accord (Thank God)
All the old school drug dealers rocking velour
Arm, leg, a leg, a arm, head and take these
That's the act, I sold crack just to bread, me
And I stuck niggas too, and I cut niggas too
They be like, "Fuck gooks," but I be like, "Fuck niggas too", what?

[Verse 3: Lloyd Banks]
Bet they hit their boyfriends with the okey-doke
Prepare for the hoedown, this ain't her first rodeo
Watch me break this shit down like polio
The fuckin' world can turn on a nigga long as the homies don't
From South Jamaica to San Antonio
Seven days, I'm targetin' paper, raining colonial
Killin' for years, my ceremony's due
I feel disrespected when niggas tell me my clone is you
If I should jump out the window, it's necessary
You got something to say to me, tell my secretary
Request a order for June, see you in February
Thirty'll get you a V, just have the edit ready
I been legendary, this is my second tour
Fuck the company, what's a building to a wreckin' ball?
Bunch of bitch-ass niggas that need a epidural
Take the Cuban links off, get 'em a neck of pearls