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