Tekst:
Hunger

New York City You are now rocking with the best Lloyd Banks G-Unit We on fire up in here It's burning hot, we on fire Shorty take it off, if it get too

a no doubt Talk of what you got now, old money don't count Back what you kick out, a clip one in your mouth It's somethin' flammable, my hunger is unexplainable

I am the one you denied, brushed off every time I tried But I'm alright, I'm able to swallow my pride And put all the bullshit to the side, yf you're

Beamer, Benz, or Bentley, Beamer, Benz, or Bentley Beamer, Benz, or Bentley, my jeans are never empty, bitch Beamer, Benz, or Bentley, Beamer, Benz, or

Intro Banks: Uh uh uh / turn me up Lloyd: Wuddup Lloyd? Banks: Ah ah ah? Lloyd: Hahaha Banks: Yeh! Yeh! Yeh! Lloyd: Long time in the making huh??? Banks

LLOYD BANKS: ugh.. bury me wit my enemies dead and gone they gonna remeber me weather me in the dirt nigga, power hold its own power in the P's money

ain't iced out, they just fooling Running round town fakers, zirconian cubic, niggas Only money matters in the game, fuck the fame I gotta eat dollar signs, feed my hunger

I meet my forb at the corner store Me and niggaz rapping out here, I just want it more Turn the music down, you can hear my stomach roar Bagged a hundred

yeah i hear you now imma make you shut the fu-k up [bridge] they see me roving they want to stop, drop off the face of earth but imma make it pop hot