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lirik lagu lloyd banks - it ain't a secret

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[hook]
lately, i’ve been hearing a lot of things that i don’t agree with
and it ain’t a secret
everybody know you puss, n-gg-
you ain’t a gangsta’ you a wuss
what makes ya feel comfortable enough to call my name out like ya know me?
n-gg-, i ain’t cha homie
i got a 4 pound on me
and you can have it

[verse 1]
this here make ya p-ss in ya sweats
you know me. mitch-ll and ness, smithin and wess, pistol and vest
i take ya life with a sound, i got the whistle of death
ya boy flow put the crystal in meth
take the listeners breath
you won’t believe what they do for c-ck
i hit the telly thrash, and slide off before the rooster crock
pour out some liquor for big, let off 2 for pac
don’t mingle around n-gg-s, shoot off the roof a lot
f-ck rattin, every tooth is locked
and you co-operating, helping ’em d-mn near recruit the block
i’m blowing heavy on the sofa with the dessie
just in case a n-gg- soft enough to slip through the crack
i’d rather throw some at you then get my sh-t blew back
this is hardcore pitbull rap right out the track
the hood a bring the b-tch out for ya
man, i get the glock
my money flip like fish out water, yeah!

[hook]

[verse 2]
i’m staring to feel like i got it all sewn up
i helped raise a few of these n-gg-s, now they think they all grown up
see these dvd g’s is p-ssed off behind the scenes
spoon fed n-gg-s, cl-t soft as lima beans
to be real, i dont know why i’m even trippin’
’cause we run this sh-t, like diarrhea drippin’
the breads long, the pipe big
so i’m comfortable enough to got to court in my pj’s like mike did
i move around with the sket, the long maglees
so chill, ’cause you can’t block those wit shaun bradley
i’ma still be here when d-block flops
i got more cash than them in my reebok box
i brighten up the picture, i shine bright
standing in my way is the only way to be in the lime light
i’m lazy when i hit and run
which means you gon’ get to c-m, even if you dont get to come

[hook]

[verse 3]
n-gg-s stiff when i p-ss
’cause i’m on a sp-ceship on wheels
first to death, little dude couldn’t slip on pills
and you a b-tch, all you gotta do is slip on heels
cheatin on me, ’cause the house on the cliff costs mills
i get the brush on ya, give the clique boys chills
man, there won’t be no more songs steak sauce spills
i get the bills, young black entrepre-n-gg-
strapped with a vest armed with a trigga
i run and got a twin tag-along, the b-tch is a quarter
i don’t mind to split ’em up, blood’s thicker than water
so i capture all the episodes on the camcorder
she lick it of her stomach, right after i blam on her
i turn the corner with the mack daddy lip
supa fly, black larry flint in the bed
i thought about clapping joe, but why clap him with the iron?
he one big mac away from dyin’

[hook]

[outro]
i got it on me n-gg-
man f-ck you n-gg-s, f-ck around and buck you n-gg-s
rap would be over
man f-ck you n-gg-s, f-ck around and cut you n-gg-s
my career would be over
man f-ck you n-gg-s, f-ck around and buck you n-gg-s
no more shows
man f-ck you n-gg-s, f-ck around and touch you n-gg-s
and you’ll tell


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