Git Beats - Just One of Those Days Lyrics
Let's do it (blicka blao) hahaha yeah(Blicka blao) somebody said they owe Tony a lil bit of breadTony, yeah (yeah), uh uh (let's go Lite, let's do it Ice Water style,C'mon, let's go)Yo it's three individuals, three different attitudesFat Tony own it all, mafia gratitude(Ain't nothing funny man, yo, it's Tony manHe sounds a little pissed off, I think he wants his money man)Yo SI stand up, the event just startedBack to commence the prince, don't get me startedTake it back to '88 with the square top maxesUnderground money so the feds don't tax usHip-hop b-boys from the hood to the guedosSlums in Texas, ya'll reckless, but ya'll still my peoplesTake money money, take money money moneyYou took a lil too much, now you can't do much(Listen man, if Tony catch him, he gon put that fat to him)If you got cash, homie, give that back to himEverything will be good, and everything will be hoodAnd everything will go the way it shouldIt's just one of them daysYeah everything was right in the hoodBut in the night, we was up to no goodIt's just one of them daysHustlas, thieves and gamblasThe world love us, and ya'll can't stand usFrom the days of guzzling Yak to playing Ms. PacNow it's on, automatic, ya'll will get sackedI'm a stealer that'll pull out the smiff on you, cash a checkAnd now I'm on my way to flight, PittsburgThese old niggas got a tab on meA few of them want us dead, it's Fat Tony and his a calvarySneak past the two thousand dollars, we stashed itThere he go, it's Riviera, fat *****ing cheap bastardNow what we gon do is breezeI kept the weight, smelling the treesNow we up in OCBsShould we get our money back? PleaseI'd rather give turkey and cheeseTell his little fat ass freezeI remember back in '88, cat's pushing crazy weightIn my pops Cadillac with the baby faceNow I'm where the cops at, trying to make that cakeWith a two finger ring and a name plateWe all in the same race, life's a struggleI love getting bread, but I don't even like the hustleIf we fight, I'm more then like to cut youCause back in the day, there was no guns, we had to fight with knucklesHangin out where the thugs atWe was goin to school, leather garments with the gloves to matchThe game ain't changed, brothas still bubbling crackAnd the plan was hand to hand, just to double it backAnd you gotta have something to stackCause these New York streets nowadays ain't nothin but ratsDice games, nice change, get one in your hatThey called for your bread, and you ain't gettin none of it back
