Work Magic - Lloyd Banks, Young Buck

I’m gon’ride!

They gon’ride!

We all gon’ride!

I’ve come from the heart of South Side

Holdin it down for my niggaz that died

I gotta dizzy bird on my side

Pop shit and get your whole mouth wired

Baby that’s right stay off the payroll

I have niggaz scrapin the skin off your face

with the same shit that peel the potatoes

I thank the Lord for my blessings, and I’m glad he gave us The willpower, and the reflexes of Larry Davis

You don’t wanna see my block formin

That’s a hundred and one dawgs

And I don’t mean the ones with the spots on 'em

We’re respected highly

Cause you ain’t gotta practice gymnastics to catch a body

Me and money’s like Whitney, next to Bobby

If I bring all my niggaz I need an extra lobby

As soon as you ain’t around Jake, you get your ass whipped

for chips, now that’s the real definition of poundcake

I got the crown snake, and you can tell when I’m shoppin

Cause when the mall stampedin you feel the ground shake

I got a car I only drive on Thursdays

I’m a stunner, Banks blows more cake than birthdays

Looka here, ain’t nobody 'round here scared

I’m headed for the top, and I’m almost there

Oh yeah!

Shiny shit right here

I work magic and make you niggaz dissapear

You know how I gets down, this pound hold six rounds

I told you I’d be back bitch, talk that shit now!

You hear that fo'-fifth sound, duck when I spit rounds

Cause this ain’t Beverly Hills, you in the Bricks now

We ain’t got shit down here but dope and guns for sale

You get your head cracked, then niggaz don’t run and tell

It’s like we sell crack, get caught head back to jail

We on that Fuck the Police shit, we’re livin in hell

You better guard your grill homey and stand your ground

These bullets burn, they hit whoever’s standin around

I never learned, even after I took a couple shots

I just got me some Band-Aids, and bought a couple glocks

Had to go on a rampage, and hit a couple blocks

Once they hear that 12 gauge, that’s when the trouble stops

If it’s beef then I’m ready to ride

Just come to Ca$hville, you can find me on the South Side

Motherfucker!

Now I ain’t from Michigan, but I’m in the Fab Five

You know, Yayo and 50, Buck and Game, you know my fuckin name

Whether the truck or train, my mind stuck on the grind

Cussin without a line, a lot of suckers came

Yeah you talkin shit, but we can all tell he ass

Jazz and black his eyes like the R. Kelly mass

You gotta blast me yo, cause the Louisville’ll

have your head lookin like the top of a pistachio

The young gunner with the raspy flow

Got every boyfriend, thinkin they girlfriend’s a nasty ho My heart laugh and it’s small, maybe it’s cause

my grandpop dropped, right after the ball

Banks hops out, bulletproof this, bulletproof that

Bulletproof snorkel, when you hot, they hawk you

I got the hood on my shoulder, chain big as a boulder

The 3−5-7 tucker, motherfucker!

Geah, haha.

motherfucker!

I’m here, yeah!

G-Unit!!!

Money by any means, nigga