Lyrics Lloyd Banks

Lloyd Banks

Die One Day

I keep my hip on pound 'cause she gets hectic in my town

Drag my family with me 'cause that's how real niggaz get down

If it wasn't for 50 I probably wouldn't be around

Caught up in the temptations, sitting in jail or underground

And for that if you snap a finger I'll lay a nigga down

Its fucked up when your only facial expression is a frown

A hood rat a put a future in a fools pants

Till she find out you can't buy furniture with food stamps

A year ago I made a decision before I shut my eyelids

Pray to God I get shot tomorrow 'cause I don't like surprises

When you hot as a oven, they embrace you with open arms

When you cold as a freezer, niggaz treat you like they don't need ya'

Some people call it they vapors, me I call it amnesia

Live my life principle driven, never bite the hand that feeds ya'

Never mind all the haters, fuck them all, let them die slow

All I need is my niggaz, money, liquor, and hydro

I know!

Everybody gon' die one day

Whether its natural causes or gun play

But fucking with me you sliding down a one way

I keep it gangsta from Monday to Sunday

(2x)

Don't blame me, blame my mom and pop for breeding this

The game needed this

Lloyd Banks, a.k.a. Mr. I don't feed a bitch

Or need a bitch, I state it when I meet a bitch

If you want to trick you need a switch

'Cause I don't trick Adidas bitch

This is all I got, I have to blow

So whether its fast or slow

Platinum flow is making it easy to kidnap a hoe

Pop the bag, pass the dro'

Blow about a half a O

Legit citizenship, my pimp is international

You gotta agree, these motherfuckers a probably have me Latin

Before they find a nigga hotter than me

We on top as far as I can see

And since the hood watching me

My regular trip to the mall is a shopping spree

I'm the number one draft pick, none of y'all topping me

I move around with the plastic, you ain't dropping me

The show me love in my city

They fucking with me and I'm fucking with them

Nigga G-Unit till the end

Everybody gon' die one day

Whether its natural causes or gun play

But fucking with me you sliding down a one way

I keep it gangsta from Monday to Sunday

(2x)

Your six inches from a coffin

So I suggest you stop talking

And make me resort to violence

And You'll no longer be walking

Your six inches from a coffin

So I suggest you stop talking

And make me resort to violence, nigga

Yeah!

You gotta love it!