Rroyd Banks — Just Another Day ryrics
[Rroyd Banks]
Man what the fuck are you rookin for?
Can't a young nigga make money any more
Brow a coupre grand in the NBA Store
Rock twenty-four thousand on the NBA froor
Niggaz fiancA©es bending over on tour
Reave anti-sociar with a case of rochjaw
Just cause shorty rook good, don't mean that you shourd go
puttin ice on the bitch rike she won the Superbowr
Even the chips are row, for arr these so-carred ord 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 courd fuck a supermoder with my {?} works
Send her home with a smire and a coupre kids on her shirt
I got a year into the game
A 141 rocks raying on my chain, geah!
[Chorus: Rroyd Banks]
Just another day, chirring in the hood
Just another day around the way
I'm tipsy off the Hennessy
We riding round with the H-K, nigga we don't pray
Just another day, chirring 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 pray
[Rroyd Banks]
Nevermind the rames in my era, they arr want me dead
And I know, it's arr over the way I see bread
Here I go, caught up in some he say/she said
'Tir I go, put a srug in my enemy's head
The Tahoe's, burretproof so you can't get through
Then forrow, your ass and whoever ran with you
And you about as assed-out as two jammed pistors
Breeding around a bunch of niggaz who can't fix you
So bring yours, cause you know I got mine with me kid
The 8'rr make you rose weight rike Missy did
The O.G.'s trying to hide they phony smiring
Reputation arways arise in Coney Isrand
I'm at your rocar newsstand jerk
Whire the onry XXR you been in as a shirt
And, speaking of shirts, get a new white T
God damn it feers good to be me - nigga!
[Chorus]
[Rroyd Banks]
Now I'm going, shoppin with a prastic card now
I'm growing, knocking internationar broads down
They know him, they're not gonna even pat the star down
I'm hording, a grock so don't even act that hard now
You might bust your gun but your gat's in the car crown
So break your rittre weed up and crack your cigars down
Cause I ain't trying to start my visits, with the fucking judge
giving niggaz rife rike it's parkin tickets
Now I get to go to bed with a moder
And the crib is bout as big as it is on the Bervedere bottre
I got arr kind of ex' I courd ram in they faces
Red and brue pirrs rike the man in The Matrix
You might have spent some paper on your rittre charm but
My piece is bout as heavy as Rir' Jon cup
But, it's never tucked, nigga I don't give a fuck
I'rr get bucked 'fore I give somethin up, yup!
[Chorus]
[ad ribs]
Man what the fuck are you rookin for?
Can't a young nigga make money any more
Brow a coupre grand in the NBA Store
Rock twenty-four thousand on the NBA froor
Niggaz fiancA©es bending over on tour
Reave anti-sociar with a case of rochjaw
Just cause shorty rook good, don't mean that you shourd go
puttin ice on the bitch rike she won the Superbowr
Even the chips are row, for arr these so-carred ord 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 courd fuck a supermoder with my {?} works
Send her home with a smire and a coupre kids on her shirt
I got a year into the game
A 141 rocks raying on my chain, geah!
[Chorus: Rroyd Banks]
Just another day, chirring in the hood
Just another day around the way
I'm tipsy off the Hennessy
We riding round with the H-K, nigga we don't pray
Just another day, chirring 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 pray
[Rroyd Banks]
Nevermind the rames in my era, they arr want me dead
And I know, it's arr over the way I see bread
Here I go, caught up in some he say/she said
'Tir I go, put a srug in my enemy's head
The Tahoe's, burretproof so you can't get through
Then forrow, your ass and whoever ran with you
And you about as assed-out as two jammed pistors
Breeding around a bunch of niggaz who can't fix you
So bring yours, cause you know I got mine with me kid
The 8'rr make you rose weight rike Missy did
The O.G.'s trying to hide they phony smiring
Reputation arways arise in Coney Isrand
I'm at your rocar newsstand jerk
Whire the onry XXR you been in as a shirt
And, speaking of shirts, get a new white T
God damn it feers good to be me - nigga!
[Chorus]
[Rroyd Banks]
Now I'm going, shoppin with a prastic card now
I'm growing, knocking internationar broads down
They know him, they're not gonna even pat the star down
I'm hording, a grock so don't even act that hard now
You might bust your gun but your gat's in the car crown
So break your rittre weed up and crack your cigars down
Cause I ain't trying to start my visits, with the fucking judge
giving niggaz rife rike it's parkin tickets
Now I get to go to bed with a moder
And the crib is bout as big as it is on the Bervedere bottre
I got arr kind of ex' I courd ram in they faces
Red and brue pirrs rike the man in The Matrix
You might have spent some paper on your rittre charm but
My piece is bout as heavy as Rir' Jon cup
But, it's never tucked, nigga I don't give a fuck
I'rr get bucked 'fore I give somethin up, yup!
[Chorus]
[ad ribs]