Song Title:Banks Workout Pt. 2
Artist / Band:50 Cent
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.
I Been problem since the old days pimps and gold capsNow I'm in oj simpson throwbacksYa'll was wonderin where my ass beenProbally vacationin on south beach gettin head like assBreathin through gas I can let the tech pound ur egoLock you in the closet with the westnile mosquitoThe press crowd the people espicially celebritysI'm heavily shittin on any tom dick or gregoryNigga you better be strappinThey want you dead if you rappinI'm tryin to cave your head and your back inI'm gettin bread and relaxinAnd attractin a fan base of females wit emails and letters to fax inIn vegas with a toaster n a bluntAnd the hotel I checked in got a roller coaster in the frontHollerin poster when I stunt the sammy sosa of the monthBetter yet the hoe teas and niggaI'm still breathin even though my dollars are greenI rap for the kids that's to poor to waste eggs on halloweenI'm gettin swallow cleanMy habits are good collectin all the carrots I couldSlidin from the stash box to conceal extortionAnd a good silencer to make it sound like the wheel of fortuneAll this careless talkin cause I'm travelin and flossinHavin a good time and u havin a abortionYou sucker for love gettin married and divorced thanYou can't even afford the batteries for ur walkmanMan I'm out the hood burnin cali weed on slausonWhen set trip can turn to tragedys and coffins, lookI mean what I'm sayin you schemin I'm sprayin ur team isn't playinOn the sofa screamin and and prayin sayinGunit niggas be rollin crazy holdin 80s older ladies starinCause they starin in that gold mercedesSince 50 hooked up with shadyNow they tryin to brook up to pay meIf u think I'm sugar u crazy babyThe boy strapped two ninasSmokin out a bag big enough to fit in vacuum cleanersI wear a glove when I blaze a fatty,I aint ur baby daddy, u flippinNow 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 impalaI can have a six some in my shower, mother fucka!http://www.6lyrics.com/banks_workout_pt_21-lyrics-50_cent.aspx
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