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Текст (слова) песни: Lloyd Banks - Just Another Day

[Lloyd Banks]
Man what the fuck are you lookin for?
Can`t a young nigga make money any more
Blow a couple grand in the NBA Store
Rock twenty-four thousand on the NBA floor
Niggaz be on stage bendin over on tour
Leave anti-social with a case of lochjaw
Just cause shorty look good, don`t mean that you should go
puttin ice on the bitch like she won the Superbowl
Even the chips are low, for all these so-called old heads
Just ain`t the same niggaz I used to know
I got a Houston ho - nah she ain`t the sharpest knife
in the drawer but she a damn good booster though
See I could fuck a supermodel with my {?} works
Send her home with a smile and a couple kids on her shirt
I got a year into the game
A 141 rocks layin on my chain, geah!

[Chorus: Lloyd Banks]
Just another day, chillin in the hood
Just another day around the way
I`m tipsy off the Hennessy
We ridin round with the H-K, nigga we don`t play
Just another day, chillin in the hood
Just another day around the way
We smoke a quarter pound a day
G-Unit we here to stay, nigga we don`t play

[Lloyd Banks]
Nevermind the lames in my era, they all want me dead
And I know, it`s all over the way I see bread
Here I go, caught up in some he say/she said
`Til I go, put a slug in my enemy`s head
The Tahoe`s, bulletproof so you can`t get through
Then follow, your ass and whoever ran with you
And you about as assed-out as two jammed pistols
Bleedin around a bunch of niggaz who can`t fix you
So bring yours, cause you know I got mine with me kid
The 8`ll make you lose weight like Missy did
The O.G.`s tryin to hide they phony smilin
Reputation always arise in Coney Island
I`m at your local newsstand jerk
While the only XXL you been in as a shirt
And, speakin of shirts, get a new white T
God damn it feels good to be me - nigga!

[Chorus]

[Lloyd Banks]
Now I`m goin, shoppin with a plastic card now
I`m growin, knockin international broads down
They know him, they`re not gonna even pat the star down
I`m holdin, a glock so don`t even act that hard now
You might bust your gun but your gat`s in the car clown
So break your lil` weed up and crack your cigars down
Cause I ain`t tryin to start my visits, with the fuckin judge
givin niggaz life like it`s parkin tickets
Now I get to go to bed with a model
And the crib is bout as big as it is on the Belvedere bottle
I got all kind of ex` I could ram in they faces
Red and blue pills like the man in The Matrix
You might have spent some paper on your lil` charm but
My piece is bout as heavy as Lil` Jon cup
But, it`s never tucked, nigga I don`t give a fuck
I`ll get bucked `fore I give somethin up, yup!

[Chorus]

[ad libs]

 

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