Lloyd Banks - Cover Me [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]
Ugh! My pump screams, steam rolling through the rap scene
This the shit to do when I wake, you’ve reached my bad dream
Stunting early this morning, balling is my caffeine
Scattered traces of cream where I was last seen
I left the richter with my heart and soul
Middle of Southside, hard to find a darker hole
Rolling stone where I parks my home
Home at every thing I hit
Hit one every day
Kick my single shit
In old school flash, I’m lightening on the darkest day
One of my views clash
I touch a hundred hearts away
The Bernard King of the bar ring
I sound like no nigga, they mocking our thing
Your homie’s people doing bad, need an extra plate
Hard to follow good direction when you’re section eight
Pearly Gate, Revolver, Father bless the wake
Could have bled out on that corner, hard to question fate

[Hook: Lloyd Banks]
Nigga, what you got?
Throw it all in the pot, light it and turn it up
Now we cookin’, can’t be stopped
We shook’em, Bentley dropped
Speeding against the clock
Weeded through all the seasons, no reason why they want you out
Every body keep it real, how’s that?
Louie sweaters cover up the holes in my back
The Devil want me caught up in this trap
Gucci sweaters cover up the holes in my back

[Verse 2: Styles P]
I been weeded a lot
Cause I’m dancing with the Devil
And seeing demons a lot
My little man Ox probably need his saliva
I say I pray. When I’m high
Praying God smoke pot
My heart pump hard shot, my mind is in a knot
That’s the Champagne and Cognac wine when it pop
Was I blind because I left dope line on the block
Or just dollar bill hungry?
Fresh clothes addiction!
Loud pipes roaming, you can hear from a distance
My nose follows the smoke, my ears on the shipment
Eyes on the streets but my brains on the Game
Cause it’s tape to a body is lives on the plane
Yeah, you fly but I can stay dry in the rain
You run from it, I sort of rely on the pain - my word
And the banks just like my nigga Lloyd
On my pretty boy shit, trying to get it like Flloyd

[Hook: Lloyd Banks]

[Verse 3: Lloyd Banks]
I give a fuck about the TV, keep it
I get better with time like my CD sequence
Before my time you couldn’t see me sleeping
Ball any fucking way, peep my 3D weekend
You need a wizard and a bomb with Buddha
My bitches can’t be regular, my mind is super
I got them bending in my Karma Sutra
Wilding on exotics, Mr. Diamond future
This ain’t a sprint, you need a lot of years
You getting money but nobody cares
You trying to make it? Put aside your fears
Don’t nothing hurt more than your Momma tears
But how much is? You can rest your wings
Shit was hard. Got to somebody to elect your sins
Put my body with the rest of Kings
Killing, that’s what effort brings
Time to F the world, Heffner heifer rings

[Hook: Lloyd Banks]