Lloyd Banks is an American rapper known for his distinctive voice, clever wordplay, and storytelling abilities. He gained fame as a member of G-Unit and achieved success with his debut solo album “The Hunger for More” in 2004. Despite stepping back from the mainstream, he remains respected in hip-hop for his lyrical prowess and contributions to the genre. Check out the Lloyd Banks Goodbye Lyrics and Video here…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yY0pzjO7pTw

Lloyd Banks Goodbye Lyrics

P.L. Motherfucking K
Footsteps like torpedoes when I come to play
Ghetto hero if you free load get the fuck away, hey
I dream about them C notes every fucking day
Feelings number than Pacino when he cut the yay
Cut the shit nigga, 2k nino neener’ tucked away
Smoking gema me and Tina leaning as she hides
In the Plaza parking Lot I bust her ass & slide
I tapped the ‘o
I spark a lot it helps relax my vibe
Still ain’t giving my heart to no bitch; I owe all that to pride
South side, home of the hardest shit hitting, my eyes wide
Crumble is what you get slipping
Dear hater, I won’t stop until you love me
Get this motherfucking money pop bubbley’ and do my dougie’
These snakes want stub me so the snub be under the rugby
Blue nose with the flows watch how you Love me
Lately I’ve been popping so I’m always popping up
Land in ATL pelle pell’ honey hopping yup
Purple weed choppa’ trunk its hot out so we parking up
Call my nigga Shaka know he got some birds that I could bump

It’s more women more pride that’s where I’m coming from
Riding ’til we die, back with another one
Know that when we die I’m back til my number come
I gotta get mine, try to stop me or let me goodbye
Goodbye, goodbye
You had ya fun now I’m waving goodbye ah’ ah’
Middle fingers rose to my foes
Now let’s get high

Uh’
I Hope this fire gets to ‘Pac, gets to BIG
Niggas tryna’ say he change wish I did
If I did I wouldn’t be going through what I’m going through
Yet know when I pop when no one knew
Get over the fact I’m over you
The more spins on radio, the more fellatio
My watch pop crazy yo’ it’s like the Macy’s show
I got the burgundy brick in that basement flow
My mind’s going a thousand miles-an-hour, sour makes it slow
Bring nine styles and I will out-shine them all with mine; whoa
My bright sounds kinda retarded this I like more
Fake niggas don’t real ones, you doing bad you don’t get hate
You do do good it will come; a ‘lil twist of karma