Lyrics of 'I Get Around' by Lloyd Banks
I Get Around is a song by Lloyd Banks whose lyrics have countless searches, so we decided it deserves its place on this website, along with many other song lyrics that internet users want to know.
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Why you leavin'?
Where you goin'?
When you comin' back?
Look, you don't pay one bill... you don't need to know all that.
Leave it there and don't come back
Rounds help or hurt you, you laughin' cause she a square
But you goin' 'round in a circle
So there ain't nothin' to work to, or work for
You trailin' by a landslide, you won't score
When in denial it hurts more
I'm in and out, it's safer
Cause that could fuck witcha time
Especially when you 'bout cha paper
And I'm out here on the grind
Never really had that thing that I can call my own
Just a phone book that I can call to bone
All alone, stuck inside of this baller zone
The baddest ones are fallin' now, money is a strong cologne
I prefer Benjamins
Ex's smell the guap, wanna be friends again
Not to mention I'm hot as the Benz I'm in
Tell ya girl to mind her own
The same bitch givin' advice is prolly down to bone
And the pussy mileage long
[Chorus:]
Ballin', alchohol'in, still fuckin' em for the fuck of it
Money over everything, doubt if I get enough of it
I ain't the clown, I get around
Makin' love just make the money come slow, I got to go
Ringer woke me out my sleep, "Bank's, I'm pregnant"
And I'm like "Bitch you crazy... like I'm the only one you spread ya legs with"
You know I hit the exit
Just cause ya life a mess, you want my life to mess with?
You discouraged and depressed, I had the jimmy on EXTRA tight
And not every now and then, either
EVERY NIGHT, just in case of petty spite
Now that there ain't NEVER right
Now that you ain't here, I'm good
Driftin' off my satellite, back to ya spot in the hood
Spoiled rotten ain't good, no dedications
Dumb, watchin' mine like you an accountant
Go 'head and make you some
Call me whatchu want baby, just call me after 1
Durin' "get it poppin'" hours, maybe we can have some fun
Three-some, we drink, we fuck, we cum
We sleep, then wake up and make a fuckin' re-run
We done, there can only be one
I'm a player, and my mind is on my money
See you 6 months later
[Chorus:]
Ballin', alchohol'in, still fuckin' em for the fuck of it
Money over everything, doubt if I get enough of it
I ain't the clown, I get around
Makin' love just make the money come slow, I got to go
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Otras canciones de Lloyd Banks
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