Artist: Lloyd Banks f/ Styles P
Album:  The Cold Corner 2
Song:   Predator
Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com 

[Chorus: Lloyd Banks]
The sky is gray, it's like this every day
The town is for the predator, don't turn into the prey
I flip a million outta nuttin, make 'em feel a certain way
Hopin that this Swisher puts me in a purple haze
I got my eyes on the money, the only reason I'ma keep on
Now I'm back in the zone, and then it's funny
Chronic bag the cologne, another half and I'm gone
Hope the shit in my bone, don't become me

[Lloyd Banks]
Horses like the derby how I'm on my pace
Speakers boomin, trunk knockin like a room of apes
I'm spinnin donuts, give me too much space
Like the abducted how I do my tapes, get on the gate
I want it all like Deebo, million dollar people
He gon' crowd when I get in the car, vroom-vroom see you
At the top I'm always clubbin, I don't see you a lot
See me and rocks golden onyx, bumblebee with the watch
Son be talkin reckless cause son gon' be with the cops
I got the one and two slot, you'll be number three when I stop
I got them bitches in shock, they gon' fool in public pussy poppin
Be hoppin, go bar for bar with any rookie droppin
She jockin, she in the car with me, she took me shoppin
She trickin, ear to the corner cause the hood be watchin
They boxed in, with no option the boulevard the boats{?}
Ballin like a muh'fucker livin out my father's hopes

[Chorus]

[Styles P]
Eyes on the money, keep on
It's on {*inhales*}

Older folks used to think I was a piece of shit
Used to be crack money, that I got my sneakers with
My eyes on the prize, don't you even try to peek at it
I ain't just holdin this gun, nigga I sleep wit it
Northside, Eastside, Westside, Southside
Gangsta niggaz'll vouch how I put it down, outside
Now it's room service for dinner
And I ain't in the telly, I'm at home, I'm a winner
You ain't Bruce Lee and I ain't the +Dragon+ to +Enter+ in your home
In the Audi wagon holdin on the chrome
My niggaz lift weight like it's barbells
All I know is entrepreneurs, models and cartels
Athletes, actors, mob niggaz that'll break yo' back in half
And leave you a car for a chiropractor
Me and Banks got our eyes on the banks
If you fuckin with the sharks c'mon and dive in the tank
What up?

[Chorus]

[Lloyd Banks]
Uhh; I'm the best thing God made after he made beats
Ignore sleep, up goin over my Hall of Famer speech
Like "First off, I wan' thank my fam, and thank my haters
And thank they girls for wantin to get a gangsta's favors"
A baby born soft, we beat the candy out 'em
Lil' man ran down his pops, now that's a family problem
The summer's done, I still be kickin where it's sunny
Let my tombstone read: "Gone gettin to the money"
Let the bird get the crumb, don't trick a panty on a bitch son
Hennessy to the ground, hope my enemies don't get none
Shooter in all black, bet he'll spank you with the Mac
You run up on me sideways you'll be plankin on your back
Benzes from the benches, Benji' Franklins all for rap
Cool with grimy bitches with jinxes, the cause for clap
Out the country thousand pictures then took 'em New York and back
Lashin out at the competition then shook 'em right off the map, uhh

[Chorus]