Eye for Eye Lyrics


publisher: ©Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group
writers: Curtis James Jackson, Eugene Raskin, David Darnell Brown, Christopher Charles Lloyd
popularity : 3 users have visited this page.

***** you **** on me, I'll **** on you
You put a hit on me, I'll put a hit on you
A eye for an eye *****
Survive the shots or die *****

[Lloyd Banks]
You can't roll wit me I'm Lloyd Banks the one and only
Not your buddy, not your pal, not your homie
There ain't a government around that can control me, oh no
I'm on that doggy style ****, man I don't love a hoe
Pappa wasn't around so I had to let my brother know,
Never stay in center, play the back and let your money grow,
Most them ***** wouldn't be around if you was bummy yo,
South side Jamaica ***** yeah that's where I come from,
If you see a ***** with me then there's more than one gun,
Five straight soldier ain't that tired of being the dumb one,
Or even satisfied being another *****s dun-dun,
We all know friendships turn sour when you getting it,
Some *****s hate me in the hood but I don't owe them *****s ****,
Smilin' all up in my face like I don't know them *****s sick,
But I can care less, I'm on the album and I'm gettin' rich.


[Young Buck]
Walkin' and talkin' spit it how I live it *****,
Came from the country, dirty south get it *****,
Feds trying to question me, they run up in my hotel,
They said there wasn't shootin', but they found no shells,
New york city, hell they throwin' *****s under jails,
I got love for them and I ain't even from there,
Now bust a shot for them boys on the block,
I can feel your pain *****,
I'm still in the game *****,
There somethin' bout the sound of a trey-pound,
That make me pull up, hop out and make a ***** lay down,
See every time we round' ya hear some shots go off,
And *****s get there chains snatched when they try and show off,
Shoot outs in broad day we do it the mob way,
And come to find out these *****s is softer than Sade,
I'ma keep living my life with a pistol in my palm and a wrist full of ice,
You can call me the don.

We got the Hei-ny
So make one wrong move and you're dying
Ain't no time for coppin a plea and crying
Cause my *****z ain't gon' stop ridin'
So you gone


I got a hand gun habit, ***** front I'll let ya have it,
When the shots go off cops saying 50 back at it,
I'm allergic to the feathers on these bird *** *****s,
Front and I'll put ya brains on that curbed fence *****,
I ain't a marksman my spark and I'll spray ****,
Enough rounds for the Hk I don't play *****,
Move like I'm militant back on that gorilla ****,
Moody, disrespectful, I'm ruley but *****s can't move me,
I squeeze till I run outta ammo, if it's a problem it's handled,
I'll have your people pourin' out liquor and lightin' candles,
You **** around I'll blow your brains on my new york times,
Run home turn to the sports section and read your mind,
It's crystal clear you should feel when that gat bust,
First it's crime scene tape then you end up in that black hurst,
We don't go to funerals but we'll go to your wake fam,
View your body all banged up, you made a mistake man.

[Chorus: x2]

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