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Just another day
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Lloyd Banks
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1
Man what the fuck are you lookin' for?
2
Can't a young nigga make money any more
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Blow a couple grand in the N-B-A Store
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Rock twenty-four thousand on the N-B-A floor
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Niggas be on stage bendin' over on tour
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Leave anti-social with a case of lockjaw
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Just cause shorty look good, don't mean that you should go
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Puttin' ice on the bitch like she won the Superbowl
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Even the chips are low, for all these so-called old heads
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Just ain't the same niggas I used to know
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I got a Houston ho - nah she ain't the sharpest knife
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In the drawer but she a damn good booster though
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See I could fuck a supermodel with my ? works
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Send her home with a smile and a couple kids on her shirt
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I got a year into the game
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A 141 rocks layin' on my chain, yeah!
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[Chorus]
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Just another day, chillin' in the hood
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Just another day around the way
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I'm tipsy off the Hennessy
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We ridin' round with the H-K, nigga we don't play
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Just another day, chillin' in the hood
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Just another day around the way
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We smoke a quarter pound a day
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G-Unit we here to stay, nigga we don't play
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Never mind the lames in my era, they all want me dead
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And I know, it's all over the way I see bread
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Here I go, caught up in some he say she said
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'Til I go, put a slug in my enemy's head
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The Tahoe's, bulletproof so you can't get through
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Then follow, your ass and whoever ran with you
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And you about as assed-out as two jammed pistols
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Bleedin' around a bunch of niggas who can't fix you
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So bring yours, cause you know I got mine with me kid
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The 8'll make you lose weight like Missy did
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The O.G.'s tryin' to hide they phony smilin'
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Reputation always arise in Coney Island
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I'm at your local newsstand jerk
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While the only X-X-L you been in as a shirt
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And, speakin' of shirts, get a new white T
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God damn it feels good to be me, nigga!
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[Chorus]
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Now I'm goin', shoppin' with a plastic card now
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I'm growin', knockin' international broads down
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They know him, they're not gonna even pat the star down
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I'm holdin', a glock so don't even act that hard now
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You might bust your gun but your gat's in the car clown
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So break your lil' weed up and crack your cigars down
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Cause I ain't tryin' to start my visits, with the fuckin' judge
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Givin' niggas life like it's parkin' tickets
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Now I get to go to bed with a model
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And the crib is bout as big as it is on the Belvedere bottle
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I got all kind of ex' I could ram in they faces
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Red and blue pills like the man in The Matrix
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You might have spent some paper on your lil' charm but
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My piece is bout as heavy as Lil' Jon cup
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But, it's never tucked, nigga I don't give a fuck
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I'll get bucked 'fore I give somethin' up, yup!
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[Chorus]
Lloyd Banks - Karma ft. Avant
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