Just Another Day Bonus Track Lyrics by Lloyd Banks

Just Another Day Bonus Track Lyrics

    [Verse 1: Lloys Banks]

    Man what the fuck are you lookin for
    Can't a young nigga make money anymore
    Blow a couple grand in the NBA store
    Whap 24 thousand on the NBA floor
    Niggas Fiences bendin over on tour
    Bein anti-social with a case of lock jaw
    Just cause shorty look good doesn't mean you should go
    Puttin ice on the bitch like she won the superbowl
    even the trips are low
    all these so called old heads just ain't the same niggas I usta know
    I got a Houston Hoe
    Naw she ain't the sharpest knife in the droar but she a damn good booster tho
    See I can fuck a super model when my days worse
    In a hole with a smile and a couple kids on her shirt
    I got a year into the game
    a hundred forty one rocks layin on my chain (Gea!)

    [Chorus: Lloyd Banks]

    Just Another Day
    Chillin in the hood
    Just another day around the way
    Im tipsy of the hennessey
    We ridin round with the 8 inch K
    Nigga we don't play
    Just Another Day
    Chillin in the hood
    Just another day around the way
    We smoke about a pound a day
    G-Unit we here to stay
    Nigga We don't play

    [Verse 2: Lloyd Banks]

    Nevermind the lames in my era
    They all want me dead
    And I know it's over the way that I see bread
    Here I go, caught up in some he said she said
    till I go put a slug ????? head
    The Tahoes, bulletproof so you can't get through
    They follow, Your ass and who ever ran with you
    And you about as assed out and 2 jammed pistols
    Waitin around and punchin niggas who can't fit you
    So Bring yours cause you know I got mine with me kid
    the 8'll make u lose weight like missy did
    The old G's trying to thier fony smilin
    repretation always the rise on coney island
    I match a local newstand jerk
    WHy the only XXL you've been in is your shirt
    and speakin of shirts get a new white tee
    god damn it feels good to me...nigga

    [Chorus: Lloys Banks]

    [Verse 3: Lloyd Banks]

    Now I'm goin , shoppin with a plastic card now
    I'm growin, knockin international bras down
    They Know em, not gonna even pat the star down
    I'm holdin, the glocks so don't even act that hard now
    I might bust your gum but your gats are in the car clowns
    So break your little weed off of crackin cigars down
    Cause I ain't tryin to start my visits
    with the fuckin judge given niggas life like its parkin tickets
    Now I get to goto bed with a model
    And the crib is about as big as it is on the belvadeir bottle
    I got all kind of X i can ram in thier faces
    Red & blue pills like the man in the matrix
    you might of spend some paper on your lil charm, but
    my piece is about as heavy as lil jon cup
    but, he's never tuck, Nigga I don't give a fuck
    I get bucked before I give sumthin up...yup!

    [Chorus: Lloyd Banks]


    [Lloyd Banks]

    Gea!
    Man we hot as a fuck!
    G-Unit!
    Lloyd Banks!
    Yee!

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