Lloyd Banks - Just Another Day lyrics

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!

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

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!

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!