Lloyd Banks
Latex Gloves (Big Ghost Version)
[Intro: Conway the Machine]
(Trust)
Trust
[Verse 1: Conway the Machine]
Look
Wrapped in chinchilla to the ankle bone (You know the fly shit)
I'm that n***a, now I'm just gon' make it known (I'm that n***a)
My dog caught a body bustin' Draco chrome (Huh?)
They gave him life behind them prison gates, he can't go home
I get the yayo gone, break a whole one down and make a zone (No cap)
'Cause in these streets, I'm a motherfuckin' staple on
He say he the king? Well, Machine come to take his throne
Take over the game like I'm Jordan when hе played Malone (Talk to 'em)
Spray thе MAC-10s out a black Benz (Brr-r-r)
He dropped his Cartis runnin' from it, got a cracked lens (Ahahaha)
Mama gone for days, been on a crack binge (No cap)
Walked to granny house, she got a packed fridge (Granny)
Been about that action since the older days (Huh?)
N***as puttin' bodies on the throwaways (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
Latex gloves on when we loadin' K's (Brrt)
Ha, yeah
[Verse 2: Lloyd Banks]
You should know what time we on
Expectations that's highly wrong
Kicked a hole in the game before
Multiple feuds by time he gone
Gotta be strong when you're poppin', the paparazzi forms
Sliders singin' in your local precinct like Omarion
Came a ways to get here and make it to a brocky arm
Careful, had to stash the rocket by the akhi jawn
Hermes on my way to the tomb, Versace-borne
You would think I'm repeatin' shit, I got several copies for 'em
Hatin' ain't gon' stop me, probably wish me body harm
Hand off to my dumb-out, get his kamikaze on
There'll always be forks in the road, this Maserati's for 'em
Y'all rap careers ain't workin' out, a bunch of sloppy songs
Quiet storms and beautiful murders for oxymoron
We in the town, there's vehicles houndin' and lobby swarms
They don't play, that's why we armed
Every day, a body's drawn
Duck the criminal, the one your baby mom eyes be on
[Verse 3: 38 Spesh]
I have to move these blocks, meet me at the beauty shop
The one that's owned by my cutie-wop that got the booty shots
I ain't packin' a toolie Glock, absolutely not
Stash box case I get stopped by traffic-duty cops
My last interaction, they was askin' who we shot
Gave 'em no reaction, so they acted truly shocked
This ain't a movie, akh, I stack fruity rocks
There's diamonds and emeralds and rubies in my jewelry box
The cars that we got show y'all all who we not
Fifteen hundred at the bar in Louis shots
Walkin' 'round your bitch crib in my drawers and Louis socks
Got me confused, dog, y'all thought who'd be stopped?
From upstate NY, a moody block
Play the gangster role and I'll make your movie stop
All hoes is birds, I'm where the bougie flock
I'll never let these groupie thots do me like Rudy pops, n***a
[Outro]
(Trust)