Breathe Freestyle Lyrics - Lloyd Banks

Your boy sick 

So move or the germ might touch ya 

I'm at the rucker, burning them trees up like Usher 

When I teach you how to rap fam 

I'm in that black van 

Like Air Ones and Canaries the size of Pacman 

Who gives a fuck if it's our brawl 

'cause my dog got the windows from the 24-Hour slawg 

I'm on the verge of flippin 

Lord send me a sign, before I empty this nine, and leave the board drippin 

Me and 50 are like Michael and Pippin 

Ryu and Ken, whoever you send, I'ma rip em' 

I'm added to society, mainly wit my system 

Run and put em' in the truck, like a kidnapping victim 

I'm papa so they pushin me harder 

My associates got interior motives like wishin his father 

I figure, I rather play wit these blades before i pass 

Build a ballcourt, and go buy Bentleys to go to crash 

I'm headed towards my prime 

Wit metaphors and mines 

And I compliment my momma wit pedacures and wind 

I'm nine for nine, the rap Einstein 

Pound for pound 

I'm Tyson a.k.a Icyin 

Message for the record 

I ain't sleepin for a second 

So even if i make it theres tool under the pillow 

I'm brought up, to the V wit a poolish from the window 

I'ma smoker, so the brokas won't leave us wit the Indo 

I'm always wit a pair, before the crew looks for the bimbo 

A dead meats in ur daughter 

I'll fuck her and won't support her 

I'm matching on the pedal 

Smile from ear to ear 

Middle finger in the air 

Before I catch her eye 

Keep rydin behind your tens fuck 

Niggas don't know no Denim 

They'll rob you for the rhinestones and your pimp cup 

They goin off of we say 

Niggas is runnin off from my buzz, fatser than Jamaicans in the relay 

I'm blowin the cush, driving lazy in the lane 

Yelling money ain't a thang 

Like Jay-Z and Jermaine 

About 80 on the chain 

Like Brady wit the aim 

I'm the same 

Whether the Mercedes or the train 

And I may be on a plane 

By the end of the night 

But it's aight 

Tho, I might throw 

I'm rich off a Mic Hoe 

My stamina's low 

X-Rated is my type so 

I keep the crib packed in, no telling where it might go 

Living room, dining room, bedroom, bathroom 

Upstairs, nuts smared all over your Sasoon 

Ya on that fly shit 

That Southside shit 

Thet I'ma sit on these ten million before i die shit 

I'm from the block where the heafers be 

To doing shows out in Pinkston when they rocking where your peppers see 

And being gangsta ain't enough 

A lil' nigga that's stuntin will put a killa in a box like Chuck 

CHEAH! 

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