[Chorus x2: Lloyd Banks]
G's up to every hood and every crew (yeah)
Supposed to have your gun 'round you

And I.. claim G Unit 'till I die
Got it down to a tee
Ya'll ain't $#&@in' with me


G's up to every hood and every crew (yeah)
Supposed to have your gun 'round you

And I.. claim G Unit 'till I die
Got it down to a tee
Ya'll ain't $#&@in' with me


[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]
Who ever it was that said carats is good for your sight

Must have never came across a rock this bright I've been hot since Mike
First put on the glitter glove
And slid backwards on the stage so give a ^!$$% love

Yeah I'm popular, but don't get it $#&@ed up
The Uz'll have you shakin' in the club like the bruck up
Whats up? with all these wanna be Lloyd Banks

And toy gangstas
We need to make a remix cause theres some more wankstas
My street team straps Mags on they waist

Vest under the shirt and black rags on they face
I'm a problem lord can you find a way to save me?
I can't die %#@! I ain't even had my baby

$#&@ it its all gravy
If I go I'm cool
Death comes for everybody no exception to the rule

I'm a G Unit soldier ridin' with my eyes low
Funny rims spinnin backwards in a spiral
Ya'll know the kid got the game in a jyro

In other words just choke
^!$$% I'm no joke
How the $#&@ you sell 4 million records and go broke

How the $#&@ you take a trip to Jamaica and don't smoke
Out in L.A. I know a few dimoes and locs
My chain heavy about the weight of a soap on the rope

Leave your girl around me too long I'm pokin her throat
Soon as she open her coat
Bend her over and stroke


[Chorus x2: Lloyd Banks]
G's up to every hood and every crew (yeah)

Supposed to have your gun 'round you
And I.. claim G Unit 'till I die
Got it down to a tee

Ya'll ain't $#&@in' with me

G's up to every hood and every crew (yeah)

Supposed to have your gun 'round you
And I.. claim G Unit 'till I die
Got it down to a tee

Ya'll ain't $#&@in' with me

[Verse 2: Lloyd Banks]

In the town I'm from the tattle tales don't rock like Pro Keds
the little ^!$$%s ride they mopeds
Around the dope heads

Last on the ball court, you can't even cross over
Without poppin a ball
I'm not gonna fall

One year from now I'm in the pop corn Azzure
bulletproof glass Blockin your boy
Glock in the door

I'm on tour, pocket of raw
Knockin' your !@^%
You back home suckin your teeth moppin' the floor

I'm gettin top dollar this ain't freebies
Been in the game a year and got two "Best Of Banks" CDs
If they ain't mine then I don't give a $#&@ about 'em

%#@! R. Kelly played with the kids and ^!$$%s still bought his album
I learned patience cause it takes time
Now my delivery is sicker than McGrady's on the bassline

None of the teckas wait around
Cause I got a roster that'll bring a record label down
I'm a monster I tear the whole track up
My closet'll bar brick on me if I hang another throwback up
I'm flyin back to Miami just to do a feature

Cause they throwin' paper at me like a substitute teacher
I'm far away from the leeches
They can't even reach us
I'm on the left coast gettin my dick sucked on the beaches
Somebody hurl one up everytime that I stunt

And every other verse you hear is a rhyme of the month yeah!

[Chorus x2: Lloyd Banks]
G's up to every hood and every crew (yeah)
Supposed to have your gun 'round you

And I.. claim G Unit 'till I die
Got it down to a tee
Ya'll ain't $#&@in' with me

G's up to every hood and every crew (yeah)

Supposed to have your gun 'round you
And I.. claim G Unit 'till I die
Got it down to a tee
Ya'll ain't $#&@in' with me