Lloyd Banks – Monument Lyrics

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    Jahkno!
    Keymaster

    (Verse 1)
    Angels raising up, demons fall when I move the pen
    Lend me your ear, ya bleed a tear
    Ain’t no fouler story to win
    Confidence rendered harley and finally got no more room to sin
    How brutal this movie been
    Ball till my Judas do me in
    My sails Peruvian
    Big barrels merging adding the Uzi in
    Burn down the studio, high off the fumes again
    Abuse the pens
    Snuck out the noose again
    F**k off the tombs come in
    Coupes’ll spin
    And loads of stupid shit
    Sought out a few should win
    Boy your blooded bread to be crowned from to live long
    Each poem leveled in stone
    Beach bound better for zone
    These clowns don’t know no better
    Rebound, strut up the drum
    You ain’t riding? Get out the car and take your bi**h ass home
    Sit ain’t no mistake
    You lift the burden rate as we regurgitate
    Evil won’t eat off the urban plate
    I watch them serve the steak
    Stupid ni**as off the curb with hate
    You have the nerve to break
    Shoulda, coulda, woulda, been alive, got the word too late

    (Chorus)
    You won’t be nothing you don’t deserve, I had to work for that
    King story they depend on me, there ain’t no turning back
    They gone do it all for attention, ain’t got no words for that
    Caught tripping, slipping off point, fall in a murder trap
    Money on my mind can’t keep my mind off that
    Ain’t no turning back

    (Verse 2)
    Tip your f**king brim to the monument
    Before I bomb you with
    Land my hand grenade
    Rocket launchers shit, my responsers flip
    I’m prompt to hit your sponsorship
    They want my mind to slip
    Minus we’ll grab some hostages
    Rivals cut off the chopperless
    Bring me accomplishments
    You dummies lost something in my expense
    Belong beside the bench
    My passport flipped in all continents
    You couldn’t buy suspense
    The streets stay jumping ain’t no time to flinch
    Two times for optimists
    Fresh shot of lint and a pot to piss
    Fear the apocalypse
    Everything’s moving, won’t stop the shit
    Like I forgot my gift
    I got em all wrapped
    Few blocks of this
    Laying on the top convinced
    Lower expectations and conversations about these pricks
    Money dropping out the six
    Lost in the action
    Refused then I make it happen
    Back against the wall again, fast forwarding
    More than average then
    This shit I shipped and got tubbed
    Will you rap to be popular?
    Feelin’s flash in the promter
    Gotcha where they want ya

    (Repeat Chorus)

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