You Already Know – Lloyd Banks
(Intro: Lloyd Banks)
Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh! Uh!
(Chorus: Lloyd Banks)
You already know, my mind is on my dough
A millionaire that won’t spend a dollar on a hoe
I’m still in here tryin to get a model out the do’
High blowin bottle after bottle of that dro
Slidin on the road, 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 do’
If you ain’t with the program ma you gotta go
(Verse 1: Lloyd Banks)
I move like it’s Po’ Po’ behind me, cocoa inside me, so cold and grimey
Fo’ Fo’ beside me, hoes know to find me
Wherever there’s money, yeah I’m the sh_t honey (WOO!!!)
Hood n_gga with the rubberband grip money
If I go broke I make you and your man strip dummy
Yeah n_gga, you don’t want it with them their bigger
Cross us, your on somethin we bare n_ggaz
Yeah n_gga here trigga teflon chest gone G’s up
Freeze up and you’ll end up in your lawn
It’s the protege of 50, inspired by Biggie
Burns more than Ziggy, them lil’ n_ggaz dig me
I been stressed out lately, so I’m smokin more than ever
Dead smack in the hood good pokin out my leather
I’m a Good Fella, in a G-Unit hood sweater
If your b_tch give me a sign I’m a get her
(Chorus: Lloyd Banks)
You already know, my mind is on my dough
A millionaire that won’t spend a dollar on a hoe
I’m still in here tryin to get a model out the do’
High blowin bottle after bottle of that dro
Slidin on the road, 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 do’
If you ain’t with the program ma you gotta go
(Verse 2: Lloyd Banks)
Uh! I’m fresh in my two thousand six whip
Cool down with a sick brick fool ’round and get hit
Move down the strip quick, two pounds of drip drip
Smokin like it’s legal, me and my desert eagle (WOO!!!)
All the hoes eyein whem the whip come by flyin
Got a Hustler’s Ambition to Get Rich Or Die Tryin
And that other guy is 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 take him right to Satan
Just for hatin leave him straight and run him over with a Dayton
And burn rubber like the back tires on the leer
Sapphires In my ear, yeah that’s why they stare
Yeah that’s why they glare, I’m icy as it gets
With a white tee and a six, a new wifey in The Ritz
If it’s junk get her drunk I pull over and roll a blunt
And I shouldn’t have to tell her what I want (Why)
(Chorus: Lloyd Banks)
You already know, my mind is on my dough
A millionaire that won’t spend a dollar on a hoe
I’m still in here tryin to get a model out the do’
High blowin bottle after bottle of that dro
Slidin on the road, 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 do’
If you ain’t with the program ma you gotta go
