[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!