Lloyd Banks Celebrity Lyrics

Lloyd Banks is an American rapper known for his skillful wordplay and distinctive voice. He gained fame as a member of the hip-hop group G-Unit alongside 50 Cent and Tony Yayo. As a solo artist, Lloyd Banks has released successful albums and mixtapes, establishing himself as a respected lyricist in the rap scene. With a loyal fanbase, he continues to be celebrated for his contributions to the hip-hop genre. Check out Lloyd Banks Celebrity Lyrics and Video here…

Lloyd Banks Celebrity Lyrics

I just touched down, Ferrari to concreteI ain’t even home and they’re talking about meFuck out my ear if you talking ’bout freedom niggerFree don’t pay the bills I’m ballin’ all out, b!You rappers don’t know meNah I ain’t your homieIf your name ain’t Em, Ferrari or TonyI like my wheel chromeyMy Bentley my RollyMy Magnum my fortySouth Jamaica shawtyThese losses I took in the gut yoThe work’s still here, I’m just cooking it up slowClear my mind, you whippin’ the truck loadMy Pop dead, but he live through his son thoughIf rap ain’t work, I’ll be pimpin’ on some hoeStill eating lobster and shrimp in the BungalowI’m back like crack over the drum rollYou know, wherever I go the gun go

We on the grind (hey) all the time (hey)Ain’t bout to let a nigga come and snatch mineI keep a nine, you see the shineI might just let your ass slide this timeWhile I get this paper, paperWhile I get this paper, paperCause I’m a celebrity(I don’t need none of y’all)Ghetto celebrity(Keep your punk-ass awards)I’m a celebrity(Take your fake smile off)Ghetto celebrityAin’t nothing changed nigger

The media will test ya, popularity is pressurePorche PanameraPlatinum hammer through the metalWreck the booth up, I’m too toughThat inner city grammarStep your jewels up, they bruised upI’ll sparkle for the cameraHarsh reality’s what (?) holding them back from openingVerbal attack all over these niggas, push the herd to the backI’m the kind that they pray on, spending half of their day onLay on, niggas for days, just shots spray onMy sound system knock and in pound Tupac6-4 jumping like the ground too hotThey spot me, they chase a nigga down two blocksTwo shots in the air for niggas that ain’t hereTwo tone, two door, grey top, roof floorGreen guap galore, in and out of new hallThat bright light you saw, was a paparazzi flashI’m tryna snap a picture through your Maserati glass

There are enough insults in my headTo fill up a swear jarAnd have it overflowing so don’t get me going, don’t dare startYou’ll never see me again, Amelia EarhartI’m poppin’ a wheelie off to a really unfair startI’m past grinding for me, guess I just be grounded upLike ground round or a pound of chuckTightly wound as fuckTill the fire Marshall’s come shutFire Marshall ground ’em upI guess you should just shut the fuck upAnd stop fucking around and duckI ain’t playing this time, I told you I’m not down for bluntsTo say I keep it 100 would probably sound redundantLike calling a bitch a hoe, or asking a gal to suckAnd blowing your dick cockIs she up to screw and down to fuckIt’s a man’s World and I’m trapped in a land of smutWith a thousand sluts wrapped with muzzlesRunning through a house of muttsOther words I’m shutting up everyone one of you bitches mouth’s upAnd I’m watching my language if I tell you to kiss my fucking buttAnd ain’t shit changed, my shit still don’t stink playerMy farts may have become staler ever since I became a trailer park celebrityMaybe my complexion became a little palerPoster job for white trash, I’m a garbage pale kid sailorYeah, see me up all in your bitch means I’ma rape her,All I got for these hoes is dick duck tape and a staplerSo bitch you better look for table scraps to scrape herI don’t subscribe to the news or the free press but homie I get the paper!

Readers May Also Like: