Instruments
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Opera
Composers
Performers

Lyrics: Lloyd Banks. Officer Down (Rick Ross Diss).

Too easy, man can't a motherfucker round you see me

You'd need a AK and a genie, a whole POUND of wheaties

My heart so freezy, 3d birdie to the click you claim

Victories my valentine, I'm in a different lane

Strong as cocaine

Long as I'm sane I won't be took for games

I can guarantee when it's over you won't look the same

Drownin' in shame, callin' my name's like callin' Candy Man

Suicide on a platter, splatter your brain, he banned

Understand, this ain't a obstacle it's comical


The shades you wear been blindin' you

Everyone knows what I'ma do

Everyone knows I'm lava, fool

Bet he come more phenomenal

Deadly, ready for drama

Whoever want it can climb in too

Broken ego's I promise you, desert eagles and llamas threw

W-why would you f-fuck wit me, s-stupid move

C-come around, get f-f-found beat up and bruised

You need support, a couple crews

Beef out here ain't nothin' new, I'll make you sleep uncomfortable

Nightmares of P.O. punchin' you, flatline

Doctor pumpin' you, the blind could see the punk in you

Girl in you, bitch in you, I will kick thru all of you

Football wit you, soccer when we see him, DDT him

Leave him bleedin', we'll be even

Even thru coppin' and pleading

He be talkin' bout the weight he push

Use to punch the clock in jail, drove his mama car 'round

Now he got whatchu want for sale

See it, I bought it; it's official if I flaunt it

If ya diamonds really real then put the diamond tester on it

He don't want it

I'll run up on his shadow hit him proper

He bout real as a 4 dollar bill, Carol City Copper

Chop 'em down, one by one, two by two this what I do

If you knew what I knew then you'll be cool, you'll be thru

He makin' money? Well we makin' money too, whoopee doo

We'll be here long after he disappear, this is proof

151 in the booth, so slippery...son is the truth

Come get me, I'm in the coupe


4-fizzy, I'm in the loop wit Biggie, piece of fruit CAKE

They don't want no problems watch they boots SHAKE

Tremble, terrified, now it's too LATE

There's no stoppin' till I see empires crumble beside me

Entire families divided, dickin' ya hoe is my hobby

Ya sorry, probably the weakest shit to try me

I be everywhere the guap be, and ya fat, musty and sloppy

Freeway "Ricky Ross" copy, and the real one's comin' home

Peace to him, fuck-you

Click, Pop pop pop, I'm gone

I'm too strong, you been warned

Quiet storm when I perform

When I get on, I'm like big pac, hell reborn

Word to mama, word is bond

Long kiss goodnight, the pistol tight, my clip too tight

You superthug, I'm kryptonite

Sleep wit me, ya bitch just might

Same promotion, different fight

Still ballin', poppin' bottles, my wrist is white

Drive the cars that bitches like, this is like

Practice, pay ya taxes

'Fore you spit my name out backwards

A-a-ask around, I'm in brackets wit legendary rappers

R-r-ratchets as we taxi, ask me if I give a f-f-fuckem' ALL

Makaveli when I bomb, I hit em' up

G-g-get buck, cut, stuck, look

Wont make much a difference, this is child's play

L-l-lyrical battery ya'll way

Pretty ladies in my mercedes, product of the '80s

40's, 50's blick'ies wit me hit me they call me crazy

High and hazy, shady, grimey, slimey in every way

30 cities, 30 shooters, we're like the NBA

Blaze when you want me stop, tough plot

Big macs for every one you can eat, Pound for every pound you got

Call me loyal, honored, armored in bullet catchin' garment

Getcha versace pirhanna'd, mangled, and left retarded

I'm on another planet, fuck made him pick me to spar wit?

We 2 different niggas, that makes you a special target

In this market they let impersonators walk 'round

50 bodied you, I just laid the chalk down