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Maryland underrated Hip-Hop/Rap absolute gem and G-Unit brotha, Lloyd Banks, has a discography that surfs through tales of childhood memories to blatantly committing felonies in a way that stands out from the crowd and showcases that he stayed true to his roots beyond the flashing lights in his prime. Lloyd Banks is a true rotten apple who grew up in the hood and created a vision for himself beyond broken down fences and bailing out friends who once again got arrested. Although the man only dished out four solo albums within his 18 year career, he has capitalized on features with some of the best in the game and having his name on your track back in the day was a ticket to the big leagues. Here are five rhymes from some of Lloyd’s songs that didn’t hit the mainstream, but definitely pack a punch in showcasing that Lloyd was all about keeping it real no matter what any critic said or how anybody feels.
“I can’t keep my eyes off ya
I can tell why them other guys lost ya
Your kind’s rarer than a flyin’ saucer
And that’s why I can offer, similarities in our characters
Haven’t you heard the word ’round town? How I get down
They gon’ whistle, everybody part is official
And that ass wit’ you, got my dick as hard as a missile
Don’t hop on top, cause I ride around with a pistol
If they pull us over, I’ll be out of town with an issue
If you was mine, I’d introduce you to mama girl
You’re stylin’ in your boots and Gabbana, I’m so used to your Prada
I take trips cause out in Houston it’s hotter
Throw in that Al Green and juice the Impala
Make my jewels and my collar
You had me feelin’ like a fool when I hollered
Tryin’ to squeeze in but you wouldn’t bothered
Now I ain’t neither, soon as I realized that I ain’t need her
She in a rush to get close to me but I ain’t eager”
Track – “Karma”
“Still stand where I stood, they love me the hood
Them bitches talking about me, thats how I’m doing good
Understood I’m good they love me in the hood
Understood I’m good they love me in the hood
I’m in love with money I don’t love these hoes
I love to get paper and spend it on these clothes
Do you hear me?
Understood I’m good they love me in the hood”
Track – “They Love Me In The Hood”
“Uh, You heard right motherfucker
My grandmama’ daughter ain’t raised no sucker
Heart full of pride and a head full of anger
Attitude of a winner infared for the danger
Even the paranoya of a female’ll change ya
Waking up every morning laying next to a stranger
I’m on the move, smooth, with one eye out for the snakes
Who can’t stand hearin your name all throughout the states
Tune into BET and watchin your video
Pretending to be your friends but the smart ones really know, so
If that’s your man warn him
Cause there’s enough bullets in here to hit every NBA patch on him
Nigga ride ’til I die the song I sing
You ain’t ready for the war I bring
You ain’t gonna do a goddamn thing
And I ain’t ever scared I’m a warrior”
Track – “Warrior”
“When I was ten years old, I seen a nigga take three in the head
Probably around the same time he used to pee in the bed
I stayed awake, cause my nightmares was seein’ ’em dead
Smelled the burnt tires peelin’ after leavin’ him lead
The killer fled with a fuckin’ laugh
My heart pumpin’ on blast
I just stared at him, slumped in the grass
Arms movin’, fingers shakin’, spittin’ up blood
DNA mixed in the mud, another ditch to be dug
There I stood, stiffer than wood
See homey used to buy me candy
Now he’s gone, who gone provide his family?
My ear ringing, shoulda been runnin’
I never thought I’d be that sick
Damn, I wasn’t ‘posed to see that shit
That’s when I thought
It was more than three shots
He coulda been aimin’ for me, maybe he circled around the block
I turned around at my pops, he like “what happened?”
This nigga rolled up and just started clappin’
I can still hear him laughin'”
Track – “South Side Story”
“I’ll be a South Side nigga ’til I rot
Even though I got the yacht and a million-dollar bop
Superman armor on the ’69 drop
0ut of every 70 rappers, 69 flop
I blew buck and a quarter, just to get the feel
So my headlights move when I move the steering wheel
I ain’t running from nothing, its top dollar to chill
I pop bottles for real, with pop artist appeal
I move 2 mil, my backyard is a field
I ain’t tough for the tube; I’ll smack y’all for real
Go ‘head, hate on me now; you’ll miss a nigga later
I’m hood like bullet holes and pissy elevators
I went from playing the same block to Bangkok
Slick enough to get money between raindrops
And my piece so heavy I pop a chain a week
And get so much pussy I can’t sleep”
