Lloyd Banks - Empathy Lyrics - WikiLyrics
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Lloyd Banks - Empathy Lyrics


[Intro: Lloyd Banks]
Yeah
Mothafuckas know what time it is, man
This is The Course of the Inevitable

[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]
Yo, the audacity it takes to rank me with the style I invented
Wear my credentials like it’s jewelry, thinkin’ my flowers cemented
To hell with honorable mentions, artists are comical, temptin’
Horrible albums, new ventin’, three pounds of vomit, who sent ’em?
Stereo blood [?], they helium’d up your last king
Can’t muzzle me up with no coffin, won’t hit me with no vaccine
Goons in the black Beam, turn your crew to a track team
Highly viewed on the rap scene, sly maneuvers and cash streams
Flee from the copper sound, racist coppers, they chop us down
Ounces of 14K, you R.I.P. boxes with rocks around
None of y’all profit bound, crypt the equipment out the sockers now
Get with the art or drown, rubber bands stackin’ up dollar pounds
Revenge is on its job, karma’ll sneak a gun in softly
Been callin’ up to God, startin’ to think He hung up on me
Number orgy, figured you need some incentive to come support me
One or two flips I’m out of here, hit the work with a somersault, we on

[Hook: Lloyd Banks & Freddie Gibbs]
I can still hear the money calling, I done been out the way too long
Nothing out here is more important, put in the spot where I belong
Gotta know how to take a loss, give me that curse when I was born
The last nigga that go to sleep will be the first to be put on
Live all your days like it’s your last ’cause in a blink you could be gone
You rather love or will respect? Showin’ that love’ll get you harmed
Won’t be no empathy ’cause you going through it, gotta be strong (Yeah)
It’s always easier for you to do wrong
(Big Rabbit Gang)

[Verse 2: Freddie Gibbs]
Went on a yacht, got seasick, can’t fuck on the boat no more
A key of wap mixed with that cut, guess I don’t sell dope no more
Synthetics, mafia methods, like I’m in the Cosa No’
Get rich and charge it all to a bitch
That’s how this shit ‘posed to go
My geekers wanna damn near OD, they want that got’eem dead
Kitchen full of powder, I turn my bitch to a powderhead
Niggas takin’ deals, that’s the only way you get out the feds
Castrated, dick in his fuckin’ mouth when they found him dead (Yo, slow down, Fred)
These scammers ain’t no hustlers, they computer thots
These Harlem niggas send some shooters at me, got the shooter shot, uh (Oops)
This shit I be spittin’ so real, make niggas pull they Google out
My ‘vette orange, groovin’ like I grew up on the Hoover block
I move it in the U-Haul, my Spanish niggas gon’ get me right
Freddie Chicharito, fuck Spanish bitches up in the heights
Bussin’ with this TEC, I got jacked and I tried to smoke a hike
Nine shots, turned into Superman when he smoked the pipe
Yeah, you heard ’em right

[Hook: Lloyd Banks]
I can still hear the money calling, I done been out the way too long
Nothing out here is more important, put in the spot where I belong
Gotta know how to take a loss, give me that curse when I was born
The last nigga that go to sleep will be the first to be put on
Live all your days like it’s your last ’cause in a blink you could be gone
You rather love or will respect? Showin’ that love’ll get you harmed
Won’t be no empathy ’cause you going through it, gotta be strong
It’s always easier for you to do wrong

[Verse 3: Lloyd Banks]
From here on out it’s independent now, fuck what the labels offerin’
Sick and tired of awkward grins, back slammin’ coupe doors again
Studios I’ve been torturing,I’ma dedicate this to all the less fortunate
There’s a lack of real niggas, fucked up the war percent
Victory is a gorgeous sin, bought the Benz so you all can vent
More content with a fortune spent, no disrespect from talks exempt
Mackin’ gave me a freezin’ chest, always thirty degrees or less
Destined for me to be the best, out of QU-2 E’s-NS
Vegetable state for being fake, EMS to a vegan death
Poverty leaves you breathin’ stressed, legal mess on the freedom steps
Celebrity never made me, my sentiments made me crazy
187’s the consequence, 718’s the AC
Troubled, to say the least, pray the heavenly gates embrace thee
There’s finally notoriety, that’s gonna come with a late fee
Performance style is a .40 Cal, back out movin’ the army now
Far away from the corny crowd, dying you call me out, now

[Chorus: Lloyd Banks]
I can still hear the money calling, I done been out the way too long
Nothing out here is more important, put in the spot where I belong
Gotta know how to take a loss, give me that curse when I was born
The last nigga that go to sleep will be the first to be put on
Live all your days like it’s your last ’cause in a blink you could be gone
You rather love or will respect? Showin’ that love’ll get you harmed
Won’t be no empathy ’cause you going through it, gotta be strong
It’s always easier for you to do wrong


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