Banks Workout Part Ii lyrics

Artist  : 50 Cent 
Song : Banks Workout Part Ii
 
I Been problem since the old days pimps and gold
caps 

now im in oj simpson throwbacks 

ya'll was wonderin where my ass been 

probally vacationin on south beach gettin head
like ass 

breathin through gas i can let
the tech pound ur ego 

lock you in the
closet with the westnile mosquito 

the
press crowd the people espicially celebritys im
heavily shittin on any tom dick or gregory 

nigga you better be strappin 

they want
you dead if you rappin 

im tryin to cave
your head and your back in 

im gettin bread
and relaxin 

and attractin a fan base of
females wit emails and letters to fax in

in
vegas with a toaster n a blunt 

and the
hotel i checked in got a roller coaster in the
front 

hollerin poster when i stunt the
sammy sosa of the month 

better yet the hoe
teas and nigga im still breathin even though my
dollars are green 

i rap for the kids thats
to poor to waste eggs on halloween 

im
gettin swallow clean 

my habits are good
collectin all the carrots i could 

slidin
from the stash box to conceal extortion 

and a good silencer to make it sound like the
wheel of fortune 

all this careless talkin
cause im travelin and flossin 

havin a good
time and u havin a abortion 

you sucker for
love gettin married and divorced than 

you
cant even afford the batteries for ur walkman


man im out the hood burnin cali weed on
slauson when set trip can turn to tragedys and
coffins, look 

i mean what im sayin you
schemin im sprayin ur team isnt playin 

on
the sofa screamin and and prayin sayin 

gunit niggas be rollin crazy holdin 80s older
ladies starin cause they starin in that gold
mercedes 

since 50 hooked up with shady


now they tryin to brook up to pay me 

if u think im sugar u crazy baby 

the boy
strapped two ninas  

smokin out a bag big
enough to fit in vacuum cleaners 

i wear a
glove when i blaze a fatty, 

i aint ur baby
daddy, u flippin 

now he tryin to grab me
out that navy caddie, i aint ur avy, 

poppa
was a rollin stone, 

stockin up the hona
home, 

pocket full of loaded chrome, 

drop n get a hold a dome, 

i know ur
motive homes, 

u mad cause im fuckin half
ur motorolla phone,

im swift with the wemon
im good wit my words, alota, 

niggas is
hatin on what i deserve im hotta, 

front if
u want end up on the curb in ur prada, 

and
ur mans runnin ambulance come, 

another day
another dollar on the low from the impala 

i
can have a six some in my shower, mother
fucka!