Lloyd Banks x Vado - Painted Houses Posted by RAP OU CRĒVE 28 MAY 2020, 23:49 Share this : Share this: 538 Share this : Share this: Follow us on SoundCloud: Share this : Share this: 0 LYRICS Intro: Lloyd BanksUhSouthside upHarlem what up?Banks SinatraThis how it's goin' down for the 2020, niggaUh Verse 1: Lloyd BanksI don't expect peasants to recognize greatness you're used to weirdosFuture zeros, where I'm from, make it out, you a superhero (Right)I'm dropping shit like the Irishmen, new and improve DeNiroMe and my baby against this crooked world, got her two cubes an earlobeOne in a billion with this feeling, right product could move the zerosRun in the building, weapon wielding, uh, arms out like a scarecrow (Yeah)You simple rappers could never face GODI got that "je ne sais quoi"I hit the interstate hard, hop in the Benz and say "Ah"You caught all them bodies, uh? Forensics say "Nah"What would you do when fickle niggas break fly?Dipped on the game, ain't say "Bye"Hangover hounding me from last night's gloryI'm in new machinery, sporty, getting smacked like KourtneyMake sure I'm careful, I don't need no copper flashlights on meBeen here before, feel like my past life haunts meDawg I've been "it", snatched Georgie, a sprinter van hashed orgyMiracle man, strapped shortyTwo many slabs of currency, smuggle the bands back for meThem traffic extracurricular, fog the windowsCome the mornin', people catch blue c-notes, do a crescendoI woo consumers from intro, my shooters shoot off the mentalAin't no maybes or missteps if I crossed a line, then I meant to (Right)Nigga moving on your boy's a unicorn, beyond a human strongGrey-coup-Poupon, twenty plus years, fuck it, I pooped so longFour-thirty, the truth is born, in trooper formGone soon as recruitment's onI heard your recordings, wish I could roof ya songsI'm buggin', or this new generation is misdirected?Break them all apart, then wipe my style down with the disinfectantHoodie on, I'm heat protected, hitman in the flippin' necklaceFor the record, this decrepit, all springers been shit infestedHe the gossip column or the type-type, who even cares?Nigga I been sick, I do these mics like Rudy GobertMy studio sessions turn to fright night, goonies appearI'm right back on the pedal, OG white Nikes, bitch listen hereThem people pitchin' you hope, I've never been opened to listeningKing of mindin' my business, the goat with the social distancingRookies ain't build to go rounds, cocky with no conditioningAnd bitchin', your vocal pitchin', ghostwriters' flow suspicionRun up on 'em, bust a move, barrel spinning like New EditionHit the districts religiously, diamond out all my crucifixions Verse 2: VadoUhEveryone claimin' they pop pistols'Til the opps get you, as soon as it's not with youAnd blow you like Scott's tissueCleanin' up the room when these brooms and these mops hit youWrist bright, stick you for ice, like popsicles (Yes)Them fellas rowdy, I'm from where the weather cloudy (Harlem)Where rappers bump this shit I'll leave faster than Teddy Riley (Ha)I've been the guy on the block street, Berretta prowlin'Point game, come through the lane, you better foul meForever score, my shooters are bettableWhen playin' with pelicans we hit it with Fentanyl (Tell 'em)Only thing definite is gettin' the feds involvedI'm tellin' y'all, they had niggas writtin' to tell it all (For real)Bow to the hated, like we don't count it, we weigh it (Uh-huh)Airin' like Frank Sharon, a bunch of houses I paint itThe hunnid thousands, I made itThe couple ounces, I gave it (I gave it)I ain't land everywhere but some project housin', I'm favorite (I know)They just snatched my OG but he innocentTrunk full of coco was OT in the genesis (Mike)I move solo and lowkey, like I'm differentStill grab the .40 like OE, I'm a menace thenI ain't the askin' type (Nah)You got a bag, you don't ask the priceBullets tuck you in, kiss your ass goodnight (Mwah)My nigga Pool caught a massive biteThey bit him in his ass where the hunnid fastLike he asked for lifeI'm on your block, what y'all trappin' like? (What's up?)Every corner, it's red dot on the pole, like a traffic lightWe fuck bad bitches for braggin' rights (Yes)The bitch I had tonight, made me work for it, almost had to wifeKeep it AC when it's fireCT to AC, it's eight keys in the tireDon't thank me, I'm retiredIf we talkin' Franklins, quite frankly we [?] (Yes)Ain't tryna lose, I'm like "What I gotta prove?"Corona virus got me movin' like Howard Hughes (Uh-huh)A lotta dudes thats powerful was powderfull (Uh-huh)Make sure every watch comin' in plain like tattoo (Woo)911, white seat pipin', powder blue (Woo)Carolina shoe, MJ's from '92 (Woo)No monkey bars, these guns swing will slide throughWhen I ride through, bitch is a soup like CallalooVado Back to: Songs