Stop sleeping on Lloyd Banks, please. The veteran has quietly been releasing quality tracks these last couple years and for proof, look no further than this Hot 97 Funk Flex freestyle from a couple weeks back. He still impressively spits with a hunger and ferocity of an up-and-comer as he touches on his hometown of Queens, his weed habit, and wack rappers.

These bars are the thesis of his machine gun pulpit sermon:

Ayo Flex! I look like I'm left off of "Bad and Boujee"?

I been listenin' these niggas out here soundin' average usually

I'm conditioned, my pen cooperates the tablet knew me

Pay homage! You a Youtube baby, right? Do your research 'bout me

Me! From the land of RIP's I got a T-shirt hobby

Banks hasn't dropped a proper project since 2010's The Hunger for More 2, however, his last couple mixtapes have been solid and he just dropped a new song "Overload" where he sounds rejuvenated over Q Will production. So maybe this means he'll be giving us his fourth studio album some time soon.

16s of a psychopath

On a whole nother highway by the time the nitro pass

Don't get caught by the castle, the sucker lights'll flash

Blood, sweat & tears to fly, only to cut your lights in half

Don't get your license slashed

Freestylin imagine my writin stash

The hood need a piece, they'll pull your ice in half

Cook in the underground, burn the fuck up by time he drop

Duffel bag my ashes and spray my face on a homi' block

Addicted to the fast life, losing time on the party clock

Media gangsters corny, won't alarm me fatigue army Glock

Light a fire for me, I'll be bombin right back

Surround the White House, they gon have to build a wall around that

Hole poked in the heart of Queens the Colosseum went black

Silence for Prodigy... Never repeat that impact

Clipper got a mind of his own, watch how you approach that

Took my heart out and froze it, choke a rapper with his purse strap

Lavender Gucc' great boots go with the purp' pack

Excellence in my worst rap, presidents get your verse back

But it ain't all 'bout the money, features I could get expensive

We don't use your entrance. Hammers sneak in like Denzel in Fences

Drama's a sentence 'til death do one of us

Think I'm assessed with the victory torches, another rush

So talented in my off time, pen the impossible

Formed replicas built the League of Shadows

Black Ra's Al Ghul, fool

Took on the wisdom Pac passed, Martin and Malcolm too

Hit the world, broke out my podcast, chronic of rocket fuel

Chillin!

Fresh off my vacation back for movies

Ayo Flex! I look like I'm left off of "Bad and Boujee"?

I been listenin these niggas out here soundin average usually

I'm conditioned, my pen cooperates the tablet knew me

Pay homage! You a Youtube baby, right? Do your research 'bout me

Me! From the land of RIP's I got a T-shirt hobby

Flame out the mothafuckin turbo burn the leeches 'round me

Lock and key, impostor free, half of y'all never leave the county

Play with the paper there's metal and plastic for you

Exotic bags for torture, smoke a youngin for my daughter

Icy neck still, probably have to bundle up this quarter

Who knows, maybe Kimora's oral uppercut performers

Twisted thoughts in my head, maybe I'm this out of mind

Crazier triumph may seem, tell me you seen the decline

Any product put out you bringing back, CD on rewind

Easing out my peer, beam me out of time, leave me out there fine

Dreamy eyes define, 'ghini out the grind, greedy minds combined leave me I've declined

Whip the whip, took a dose of winnin got me tipsy quick, hit the strip, roll myself a 50 roll a 50 clip

Hippie shit, old heads hatin don't be a hypocrite

Pop good on a bad day, not a soul out to witness it

Hell in the ghettos air, doubt if you ever felt breeze

I was born in the studio, cut me I bleed in LPs

Personalities multiplying, think i feed off emcees

Triggered by Hot 9-7, now double Ms my main squeeze

Epitomizing grimy, it mixed me out the '90s

Blend of all the top tiers from a corner that's droppin bodies

Murals on the side of the wall, my high society

Any shot you got to being somebody you rock-a-by me

Wrote a album couple days ago, that shit you lack about me

All these mettys got the hood punch drunk, two ounce for alkis

Lotta shit I'm not understandin, all kind of questions for me

Culture lessons, punks need addressin they out here dressin funny

Shorty only bottom in chess, couldn't get checkers from me

Already two albums finesse, that's extra money

Left a life of death experience, how could you humble that?

Mob of preemies can't be serious, shit on your mumble rap

.40 below chain swing like a lumberjack.. Top 5 for fifteen years who's fucking with that... Nigga!

Banks is back like he never. Do yourself a favor and find a download link to his first tape Money In the Bank.