Baby Grand - Die One Day lyrics

[Verse - Lloyd Banks] I keep my hip on pound cause sh** gets hectic in my town Drag my family with me cause that's how real n***as get down If it wasn't for 50 I probably wouldn't be around Caught up in the temptations, sitting in jail or in the ground And for that if he snap a finger I'll lay a n***a down It's f**ed up when your only facial expression is a frown A hood rat'll 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, n***as 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, f** them all, let them die slow All I need is my n***as, money, liquor, and hydro I know [Hook - 2X] Everybody gon' die one day Whether its natural causes or gun play But f**ing with me you sliding down a one way I keep it gangsta from Monday to Sunday [Verse - Lloyd Banks] 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 b**h Or need a b**h, I state it when I meet a b**h If you wanna trick you need a switch Cause I don't trick Adidas b**h 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, pa** the dro' Blow about a half a O Legit citizenship, my pimp is international You gotta agree, these motherf**ers'll probably find Bin Laden Before they find a n***a 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 f**ing with me and I'm f**ing with them n***a G-Unit 'till the end [Hook - 2X] [Bridge - Lloyd Banks] You're 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, n***a [Outro - Lloyd Banks] Yeah! You gotta love it!