GIT BEATS - Just One Of Those Days lyrics

rate me

Let's do it (blicka blao) hahaha yeah

(Blicka blao) somebody said they owe Tony a lil bit of bread

Tony, 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 attitudes

Fat Tony own it all, mafia gratitude

(Ain't nothing funny man, yo, it's Tony man

He sounds a little pissed off, I think he wants his money man)

Yo SI stand up, the event just started

Back to commence the prince, don't get me started

Take it back to '88 with the square top maxes

Underground money so the feds don't tax us

Hip-hop b-boys from the hood to the guedos

Slums in Texas, ya'll reckless, but ya'll still my peoples

Take money money, take money money money

You 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 him

Everything will be good, and everything will be hood

And everything will go the way it should

It's just one of them days

Yeah everything was right in the hood

But in the night, we was up to no good

It's just one of them days

Hustlas, thieves and gamblas

The world love us, and ya'll can't stand us

From the days of guzzling Yak to playing Ms. Pac

Now it's on, automatic, ya'll will get sacked

I'm a stealer that'll pull out the smiff on you, cash a check

And now I'm on my way to flight, Pittsburg

These old niggas got a tab on me

A few of them want us dead, it's Fat Tony and his a calvary

Sneak past the two thousand dollars, we stashed it

There he go, it's Riviera, fat fucking cheap bastard

Now what we gon do is breeze

I kept the weight, smelling the trees

Now we up in OCBs

Should we get our money back? Please

I'd rather give turkey and cheese

Tell his little fat ass freeze

I remember back in '88, cat's pushing crazy weight

In my pops Cadillac with the baby face

Now I'm where the cops at, trying to make that cake

With a two finger ring and a name plate

We all in the same race, life's a struggle

I love getting bread, but I don't even like the hustle

If we fight, I'm more then like to cut you

Cause back in the day, there was no guns, we had to fight with knuckles

Hangin out where the thugs at

We was goin to school, leather garments with the gloves to match

The game ain't changed, brothas still bubbling crack

And the plan was hand to hand, just to double it back

And you gotta have something to stack

Cause these New York streets nowadays ain't nothin but rats

Dice games, nice change, get one in your hat

They called for your bread, and you ain't gettin none of it back