Ever since storming the rap game in 2002 as part of 50 Cent’s Guerilla Unit, Lloyd Banks has been long hailed as the punchline king by hip hop heads.
From his very first appearances on the legendary mixtapes, we knew we were witnessing something special right out the gate. After prominent features on 50’s Get Rich or Die Tryin’ and G-Unit’s debut album Beg for Mercy, Banks dropped The Hunger for More in 2004 and achieved chart-topping success.
But it hasn’t been all roses for the South Jamaica, Queens MC. Known for his legendary comebacks, Banks has always been one to sit back and regroup before hitting the rap game with more of his punchlines. He did it in 2010 with the successful H.F.M. 2 (The Hunger for More 2) and he’s doing it again now with The Course of the Inevitable series.
Along the way, he’s shown up on some of your favourite rappers’ tracks and bodied them. It’s no surprise we crowned him one of the best rappers in the game right now.
From Fabolous’ “Mo Brooklyn, Mo Harlem, Mo Southside” to “Christian Dior Denim Flow” and “Banks Victory”, here are the top 10 best Lloyd Banks guest verses of all time.
10. Fabolous ft. Lloyd Banks & Vado – “Mo Brooklyn, Mo Harlem, Mo Southside”
Released: April 21, 2011
Album: The Soul Tape
Producer: DR Period
Uhh, money's the focus, ashtray's to the top a hundred roaches Pretty head on hotel sofas in this town of dreams and hopers Don't approach us, watch the common stretchers lead to comas Sold out shows and Louie shoulders, way I rap I need a bonus Who can hold us? The OG rollers New York city’s coldest Sour diesel, weed aromas, numb the casualties of soldiers My position, remains the same while niggas change and switching Politics from famous living, heavy chains and brainless women Place to swim in, 22 spinning leather grace the linen If you find a space forgive 'em, gangstas can't erase the sinning Ducking po po, the 2k winners Banks, Vado, and Loso Brooklyn, Queens, to Harlem .44 slip around here you'll be promo I'm fresh, designer down to sweats, prolly grip the thousand x My style what's next, boujie bitches hound next to the housing 'jects Life reflects from big diamonds domino with calmer flow Feel like I'm popping shit rhyming, homicide every time I go Thousand dollar tipping, Impala whipping recline and go Pounding out your sister then give her pound, time to roll
9. Joe Budden ft. Fabolous, Lloyd Banks & Royce da 5’9″ – “Remember the Titans”
Released: October 26, 2010
Album: Mood Muzik 4: A Turn 4 The Worst
Producer: J. Cardim
Acid out the baggie, this is more than dope, flawless flow Fucking off a sign every horoscope done wore my robes Strapping up the corner cold, critical Unquestioned, my opponents know I shoot like Kapono, watch me own the show Comatose, toasted, getting money while I roam the coast Stones and boats, mansion homes and hoes I deserve ‘em both, overdose Time to earn my votes, watch me turn the volts Voltage through a meter, this electric chair, danger Yeah, I see ya, now make way 'fore it turn to diarrhea Hear a microphone will give you 3 of everything I wear yeah Models by the pair, swear, bottles, private Lear, steer Style that's outta here, rare, thousands by the chair, square Sleep with me, you came here, war with me is scary Get beat silly trying to lamp here, better bring your fury heat I got a drop damp here, niggas try me barely No one breathes, I need an ant's ear, pressure's necessary Got my mind on the cheddar, kill my haters together Bury 'em in abundance and starve their families stomach’s Paper come in my thumbage, brand new fifties and hundreds On point, just like the drum is, I’m warning them baby mothers Got the hunger of a broke rapper Kill you while I’m rolling up then smoke after Catch you at your show, snatch ya, empty out the dough faster Bentley off the scene, magnum Mo' splasher, four packer Southside nigga spitting coke at ya!
8. Kanye West ft. Lloyd Banks, Pusha T, Ryan Leslie, Kid Cudi, & John Legend – “Christian Dior Denim Flow”
Released: October 1, 2010
Album: G.O.O.D. Fridays
Producer: Kanye West
Ugh, handcraft material, champagne for cereal Shawty stole my heart, criminal, my lucky charm, ugh Fly clothes and Lear shows take the stuff we on Stuff all my problems in that bong, and I'm puffin' strong I been locked in my way of thinkin', now my cuffs are gone Must've been the liquor talkin, I'm beggin' the cups, c'mon (C'mon) Might come off as irregular, I come in custom form T-G-I-F, GT breeze, my hustler's poem (Yeah) My sound's full-grown, reminds me of my favorite chronic (Kush) Ball like a SuperSonic, make the haters vomit (Ugh!) Nigga, make some money ‘fore you make a comment I meant to snap a while ago, but who knows where the time went? Probably dime chicks, whips with a Diddy Now I'm back like a nine-milli, running New York City See me clearly through the storm, the world's mine Sits pretty in my palm, Chandon as we continue on
7. The Alchemist ft. Lloyd Banks – “Bangers”
Released: June 29, 2004
Album: 1st Infantry
Producer: The Alchemist
You now looking at the hood meal ticket seven thou on my wrist It's kinda hard to keep the balance with this, it keeps the challengers pissed I vacate to different islands and twist And back home where the violence exist, nines, silencers, fifths We buy mileage as gifts as well as man's best friend And I don't own no rottweillers and pits It's getting extremely hard for the man to roam With little kids putting this picture on the camera phone Shit change now that the cameras on A bitch will jeopardize the marriage to fuck you when they man is gone These niggas rambling on about the paper that they getting stop it I got more money than you in my little pocket Yeah, I'm stingy so it's stretch long, with G-Unit sweats on Thread needle to Teflon, Des' Eagle and vest on Cause everybody ain't enthused That's your name's around about good news, fuck you!
6. Young Buck ft. Lloyd Banks & D-Tay – “Prices On My Head”
Released: August 24, 2004
Album: Straight Outta Cashville
My eyes low, hydro leakin' out that tahoe I know g-unit's them niggas im'a ride fo' Nah hoe, I ain't stuntin', nuthing that these niggas say Fuck the rap, I can get ya' monkey ass good today Ain't nobody picked me up, when I was pinned down I'm double checkin, 'for I leave outta my crib now Holdin that 40 on me, sunk in the seat Cuz niggas feel comfortable when they get in drunk with the heat I'm ridin' while ya dirty, cuz they gunnin for my top I ain't duckin and dodgin, I'm only runnin from the cops Spendin grand by the grand by hundred on my watch Just got another buddy, and it holds a 100 shots U never had a role model, cuz he was in a box So I'm up in the club with eather, a heater or a house Everyday there's another nigga bleedin on the block But we ridin' with them burners on, even when it's hot
5. 50 Cent ft. Eminem & Lloyd Banks – “Don’t Push Me”
Released: February 6, 2003
Album: Get Rich or Die Tryin’
I done lost my bigger nigga and I didn't cry Too young to understand the consequences of a man Living a lie, I gotta get that money I'll be damned if I'm bummy Gotta watch my back around these niggas cause they funny 20 years of watching my mama tears got me heated, heavily weeded Smoking that bong cause I need it These niggas don't want me balling, they want me buried Bogged in the dirt from shots flurried Laying with bugs under my shirt I got plans to hop up in that Hummer Cause I'm a stunner, I sit back and wonder When them angels gonna call my number Under my chest is a heart of a lion I ain't lying, bounty hunters got me flying With my iron, high as a giant I'm running from nothing, my stomach is touching what I'm clutching To give you more than a concussion, end of discussion My blood is colder so I'm bolder Hennessy and soda, hood on my shoulder Look in the mirror, I see a soldier
4. Eminem ft. Lloyd Banks, 50 Cent, & Cashis – “You Don’t Know”
Released: November 7, 2006
Album: Eminem Presents: The Re-Up
Enough holdin' back the steam, Em let off a magazine Dappadon Cappa Queens, mixed in with Ca$his creams Started off with half a dream, developed into what you see Tellin' ain't my cup of tea, can't tell I'm a fuckin' G? I'm on automatic when I'm at it, start static And you splattered, shit shattered, I'm a walkin' bitch magnet Spit it how I live it, live it all-way to the limit And I'm always on my pivot for my digits, you dig it? See…
3. 50 Cent ft. Lloyd Banks – “The Banks Workout”
Released: June 1, 2002
Album: 50 Cent Is the Future
Producer: Just Blaze
These niggas don't really want war (nah) They just walk around frontin' 'cause I walk around stuntin' Why you think the long pump is in the trunk for? (Yeah) If you really want something, we can show up at your front door I know my history—my family tree done said "master" (Uh-huh) And fuck livin' positive 'cause negativity spreads faster (Yeah) A celebrity has to bulletproof his car 'Cause big-heads come flyin' through your door like Casper (Woo) I'm smokin' out the jar (Jar) scopin' out the bar Distracted—see shorty' breast pokin' out the bra (Uh-huh) Not the type to go spark metal and— Start thinkin' you gangsta 'cause you hit a parked yellow van (Yeah) Act hard but your heart made of marshmallows, man Talk tough until you get cuffed and start tellin'—damn Every day, I got a new bitch, and when I'm done with her— It'll look like she dived headfirst into Cool Whip (Goddamn) You only gon wind up dead tryna prove shit I put chalk around your head like a pool stick (Yeah) I gotta have bucks on the waist I'm hungry like a South African with flies stuck to his face (Waa) Catch Banks in a truck full of bass (Uh-huh) Remember, I'm a bachelor—the four or five ducks gotta space You could either get bust or get your ass jumped The only trigger you touch is on the gas pump I got my own personal slave—she really got a curfew Cook and clean for the kid like Celie in "Color Purple" (Uh-huh, uh) I know you wanna pop me, but— (But) If I hit you first, the exit wound gon' be the size of a hockey puck (Ah) Fuck, I really hold the rubber I send sparks at you, and I don't mean Omillio or Bubba I'm aimin' for a video or cover, huge tour-buses A pound and a Philly, hold the smuggler G-Unit's what's up right now The Gucci cloth is on a Newport sign upside-down You gotta come a lil' harder—nigga, you wear jerseys? Well, mine is a throwback, and yours is a Starter (Hahaha) You still gotta beg a ho (Ho) And you mad 'cause you blowin' on oregano You niggas'll never blow Anyone to step in my ring is brave I don't know a thing about hairstyling, but I can make a finger weave (Err) Short stay, leave her butt in the telly Lace up the beef-and-broccolis, peanut butter-and-jelly I'm about to get this deal (Uh-huh), and shorty know Thats why she foamin' out the grill like a Alka-Seltzer pill I ain't loud around a snitch (Nah), I don't crowd around a bitch (Nah) The jumpsuit match with the Carolina kicks I been sick since niggas was on Harold Miner's dick I could call up a chick and put a child around her lips (Woo) Niggas can't stand the fact that I'm real (He's off, nigga) I kidnap the queen from the castle and put her back on the pill Gimme Barbie at her best (Uh-huh), Bacardi at the chest (Uh-huh) I'm similar to the young Marcus Garvey at the desk Used to have to push up; now, I hardly got to press Got two guns, and both lead to cardiac arrest (Ugh) My success got suckers salty (Salty) Blowin' steam like a cup of coffee Click, pow! Get these fuckers off me
2. Obie Trice ft. Lloyd Banks, 50 Cent, & Eminem – “We All Die One Day”
Released: September 23, 2003
But as long as I'm here I'm gonna grab checks And make my cash stretch longer than giraffe necks Poverty'll make your ass bet My words touch niggas in jail, make them wanna finish they last set They say you live by the gun, you die by the next nigga gun If that's the case, then get a bigger one You don't think I pack the pump 'cause I'm out the hood? That's a stereotype, like everybody that's Black can jump I'm in the white mink, the fabric is done Got rings like Mike, Bird, Magic, and them Out in Dallas to the Palace where the Mavericks is from Living lavish I'm established, so the cabbage'll come I'm in the clouds, you don't see me on the train I travel first class, you ain't even got a TV on your plane You should be easy on my name 'cause I ain't going back and forth Your boss and your captain soft (BITCH!)
1. 50 Cent ft. Lloyd Banks – “Banks Victory”
Released: August 1, 2002
Album: No Mercy, No Fear
Producer: Puff Daddy, Stevie J
I got a industry gangstress, that argues, and steams the reefer And flip when I call her bitch, like she Queen Latifah Not all the vehicle's is long enough to stash the street sweeper This shit can get uglier than the Master P sneaker We slidin through the ruckus, with Prada on the chuckus So the spring break hoes home from college wanna fuck us I ain't here to drop knowledge on you suckas I sic Rottweilers on you fuckas, cops followin' to cuff us Top dollars to discuss this, whole lot of zeros When it comes to paper, I blow a soul out a hero I'ma break before I lay floor buried Besides, every rapper ain't a star, and every plad ain't Burberry You can't tame Lloyd, smokin' by the big screen Changin' the channel, looks like I'm playin' the Game Boy I know the watch botherin' ya vision But reach, and I'll put a dot on ya head like it's part of your religion Why party with a pigeon? I'm blowin' a 10 cause Bush handin' flyers for a party in a prison I'm in the Gucci vest, with the green and red straps I'm the last rapper to scare niggas since Craig Mack Now every morning's a fast start And there ain't problem gettin' dressed 'cause my closet got more aisles than Pathmark Run, move startin' a wave Or leave with 12 shells in ya mouth like a carton of eggs I'm the young pimp pardon my age I don't got long hair but if I did she be partin' my braids Niggas find what club they at Take 'em with us, and run a train on 'em like a subway map Your advance is grey Acura See these record labels got most artists gettin' fucked like the gay rapper I go to college on the tour I'm goin' down in history nigga, next to Wallace and Shakur I keep ya ammo clean, text polished in the drawer Camera's by the hamper that mine into the floor By now, you probably heard of me Fresh outta surgery, flashy as a fuck, you gon' have to murder me Burglary, I'm leavin' with your Nikes burgundy, white tee: burgundy You match now, back down Niggas love to hate you, but love you when you disappear Catch me on the boat with weed smoke and fishin' gear Heavy when I toke, C-notes from different years Bezzy and the rope, remotes and liftin chairs You ain't rich, but we glad to snatch ya I send cars to your crib like I'm a cab dispatcher You better off with the stupid guys, lookin' for a coupe to drive You ain't gettin nuttin' but ya french fries supersized It's a damn shame y'all still local I'm in a million dollar studio layin my vocals, nigga