Change Lanes Lloyd Banks (Ft. Big K.R.I.T. & Curren$y)
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Change Lanes" by Lloyd Banks (Ft. Big K.R.I.T. & Curren$y). Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Hook]
Twenties, low frame, change lanes
Hundred roll getting to it, same thing
Leave nothing need it all, main aim
Leave em nothing need it all, main aim (x2)
[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]
I'm a monster with this mackin' if I catch her I'ma get her
Club her up, drag her back, like a caveman nigga
Big account bigger party Ferrari dream I'm a dreamer
Name my source a disturbance you heard of revend you seen her
I go to bed in my beamer right by my nina no beam
I'm beaming up on this buddha
Shooters all over the scene
I got these drugs in my stream
Skipped the chance to get clean
My heart as cold as the slammer in Alexander McQueen
You don't get hate bout' your money
Boy you ain't making none yet
My aura making her wet
I put your saint in a jet
Watch who the fuck you be grilling I got that hater effect
I got that black and that chrome in from my Raider(radar) connect, yeah
Calendar of pretty foreigns yeah my celly rear
Terror the telly, Kush and sour smoking everywhere
Chevy steer, how these petty niggas getting here
They come and go blow my shit up watch em diss-a-peer, yeah
Twenties, low frame, change lanes
Hundred roll getting to it, same thing
Leave nothing need it all, main aim
Leave em nothing need it all, main aim (x2)
[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]
I'm a monster with this mackin' if I catch her I'ma get her
Club her up, drag her back, like a caveman nigga
Big account bigger party Ferrari dream I'm a dreamer
Name my source a disturbance you heard of revend you seen her
I go to bed in my beamer right by my nina no beam
I'm beaming up on this buddha
Shooters all over the scene
I got these drugs in my stream
Skipped the chance to get clean
My heart as cold as the slammer in Alexander McQueen
You don't get hate bout' your money
Boy you ain't making none yet
My aura making her wet
I put your saint in a jet
Watch who the fuck you be grilling I got that hater effect
I got that black and that chrome in from my Raider(radar) connect, yeah
Calendar of pretty foreigns yeah my celly rear
Terror the telly, Kush and sour smoking everywhere
Chevy steer, how these petty niggas getting here
They come and go blow my shit up watch em diss-a-peer, yeah
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