50 Cent Banks Workout Pt. 2 Lyrics

Song Title:Banks Workout Pt. 2

Artist / Band:50 Cent

Album:Unknown

Description: 50 Cent Banks Workout Pt. 2 Lyrics. Find below the song Banks Workout Pt. 2 performed by 50 Cent. This Banks Workout Pt. 2 song comes from the album Unknown. You can get all 50 Cent Music and Song lyrics right here on www.6lyrics.com.

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Banks Workout Pt. 2 Lyrics

I Been problem since the old days pimps and gold caps
Now I'm 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
I'm heavily shittin on any tom dick or gregory
Nigga you better be strappin
They want you dead if you rappin
I'm tryin to cave your head and your back in
I'm 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
I'm still breathin even though my dollars are green
I rap for the kids that's to poor to waste eggs on halloween
I'm 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 I'm travelin and flossin
Havin a good time and u havin a abortion
You sucker for love gettin married and divorced than
You can't even afford the batteries for ur walkman
Man I'm out the hood burnin cali weed on slauson
When set trip can turn to tragedys and coffins, look
I mean what I'm sayin you schemin I'm sprayin ur team isn't 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 I'm 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 I'm fuckin half ur motorolla phone,
I'm swift with the wemon I'm good wit my words, alota,
Niggas is hatin on what I deserve I'm 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!

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