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    *Alarm Clock*
    *Gun Shots*

    Verse 1:
    Nobody dead knew they would die before they woke
    Prolly started off a beautiful day with weed smoke
    Outta last nights pussy the murder that she wrote
    Cold sweatin from a nightmare, mind on a C-note
    You leave the door open, tensions of fulfillin your visions
    Constantly sidetrack thinkin about whos your man and who isnt
    Maybe its necessary maybe your overreactin
    Maybe your actual downfalls that hoe that you clappin
    Maybe your pillow conversations been controllin your actions
    Maybe your homie overheard and never told you what happened
    You look behind you when you turn the coner
    Cause death is promised and you done seen some niggas go before ya
    The threats honest, and with that lingerin in the back of your head
    You know its possible that you wont make it back to your bed
    The confusion and jealousy and dishonor'll spin ya
    But done nothin hurt worse then when that gun powders in ya

    If you my nigga, you my nigga til the end
    Fuck a bill fuck a bitch fuck a Benz
    Lets toast til we die
    Roll up the weed and blow the smoke in the sky
    If you my nigga, you my nigga til we go
    One of the few I would take a bullet for
    Lets toast til we die
    Roll up the weed and blow the smoke to the sky

    Verse 2:
    The smell of Marijuana reiks off me
    I raise hell before I speak softly callin the next
    Put atleast 100 grand on one hand bought em six
    Aknowledge the weaknesses that his man taught him to fix
    We aint never left the hood so we cam-corder the trips
    I done watch the nigga go from BET to the bricks, shit
    Her slanted eyes with the chocolate thighs take me
    Ima bachelor nigga you aint knockin my lady
    Alota these niggas been jockin mine lately
    And I hope they catch the long nap and not rock-a-bye baby
    When two brothas pushed outta different mama's
    Close enough to conflict and put this shit behind us
    Your baby boy made the big time
    Hoes is watchin and these niggas tryna get mine
    Remember back then the lines in your flattop
    Hoppin your moms aint the mama on crack rock


    Verse 3:
    I keep my mind on my money and my head to the sky
    I never really smile much if you was here youd know why
    Its frustration and fire if you look in my eye
    The media fuckin me up, right hookin my high
    Niggas hated on us for the game took us inside
    Then they opened they arms wide took the whoppin and cried
    I got a platnium plaque hangin on the wall in my crib
    And handsomes one of the things they been callin the kid
    They watch you close when you coppin all them VS stones
    If you aint tryna get it poppin leave the BS home
    I got us a Diddy broad that gives the best dome
    And im blowin on some of the finest weed thats grown holmes
    You wont know when they gon' dump a slug
    But you can tell im gettin money from line out the front the club
    My whole click caked up, you cant compare the dough
    And if its only one bitch dont even share a hoe


    whoaaaa whoaaaaa
    La La La

    *Alarm Clock*

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    Todas as letras de Lloyd Banks

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