[Lloyd Banks:]
Uh...
Uh...

Uh...
Uh...
Uh...

Uh...

[Chorus: Lloyd Banks]

You already know, my mind is on my dough
A millionaire, don't spend a dollar on a hoe
I'm still in here, tryin' to get a model out the door

High, blowin' bottle after bottle of that dro
Slidin' on a roll, groupie in my vehicle that I don't even know
And if I wasn't Banks, shorty probably wouldn't roll

From the Benz to the lobby, from the lobby to the door
If you ain't with the program, ma you got to go (go)


[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]
I move like there's popo behind me
Cocoa inside me, so cold and grimey

44 beside me, hoes know to find me
Where ever there's money, yeah i'm the %#@! honey (whoo)
Hood ^!$$% with that rubberband brick money

If I go broke, I'll make you and your man strip dummy
Yeah ^!$$%, you don't want it with them, there bigger
Cross us, your on something, weed, their liquor, scared ^!$$%, here trigger

Teflon, chest gone, G's Up, freeze up and you'll end up in your lawn
It's the protege of Fitty (uh huh)
Inspired by Biggie (uh huh)

Burns more then Ziggie (uh huh)
The little ^!$$%s dig me (whooo)
I've been stressed out lately, so i'm smokin' more than ever

Dead smack in the hood, good pokin' out my leather
I'm a goodfella
In a G Unit hood sweater

If your (*##$ give me a sign, i'm a get her

[Chorus: Lloyd Banks]

You already know, my mind is on my dough
A millionaire, don't spend a dollar on a hoe
I'm still in here, tryin' to get a model out the door

High, blowin' bottle after bottle of that dro
Slidin' on a roll, groupie in my vehicle that I don't even know
And if I wasn't Banks, shorty probably wouldn't roll

From the Benz to the lobby, from the lobby to the door
If you ain't with the program, ma you got to go (go)


[Verse 2: Lloyd Banks]
I'm fresh in my two thousand six whip
Cool down or sip brick

Fool around and get hit
Move down the strip quick
Two pounds of drip drip

Smokin' like its legal
Me and my Desert Eagle
All the hos eyein'

When the whip come by flyin'
Got a hustler's ambition to get rich or die tryin'
And that other guys lyin'

He just lookin' he ain't buyin'
He ain't flyin'
He ain't cakin'

Everybody know he fakin'
I should let the hood bake him
But I'm takin' him right to Satan

Just for hatin'
Leave him scrapin'
And run him over with a Dayton

And burn rubber like the back tires on the leer
Sapphires in my ear
Yeah thats why they stare

Yeah thats why they glare
I'm icy as it gets
With a white tee in the six

And your wifey in the Ritz
If its junk in the trunk I pull over and roll the blunt
And I shouldn't have to tell her what I want

[Chorus: Lloyd Banks]

You already know, my mind is on my dough
A millionaire, don't spend a dollar on a hoe
I'm still in here, tryin' to get a model out the door
High, blowin' bottle after bottle of that dro
Slidin' on a roll, groupie in my vehicle that I don't even know

And if I wasn't Banks, shorty probably wouldn't roll
From the Benz to the lobby, from the lobby to the door
If you ain't with the program, ma you got to go (go)