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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
Song: | Daily Routine |
Album: | | Genres: | |
Year: | | Length: | 0 sec |
Lyricist: Joey Bada$$
Lyrics:
[Verse 1] From the block to the top, Buddha baggies in the sock Only thing that changed now is we ain't runnin' out of stock Used to beg mom dukes for lunch money Honeys used to run from me when pockets was dust bunnies Now what's funny is we done came up and conquered Even the future lookin' bonkers from Compton to Yonkers Though them gangstas grill, I tell 'em keep that drama away Don't fuck with thieves, I like Jay so who sponsorin' the tape They launchin' out strays, I'm tryin' not to get sprayed Whether a spitter or a quitter behind the trigger, approaching his prey His eyes bigger, won't stop to consider What's right or wrong, because it's hard liquor that's inside his liver
[Hook] But that's just daily routine The streets are cooped fiends Whether the hoops or the booth, niggas shoot dreams Better choose the right scheme Cause you could think you're cool with your nice things But get wiped clean for ice creams when the lights beam
[Verse 2] Traded in my Nikes for a new mic I guess it's safe to say he sold soul for his new life Like they were tryna blind us, but we know the true designer They didn't wanna see us find the diviners So now we hit the vines up day and night On the regular, I know my momma prayin' like She want me reach my aims in life, but just stay in sight So I'm shootin' for my dreams, hit the booth and it boost my esteem The Pro Era crew recruitin' in them fiends by the boat load Nigga caught a wave and now he surfin' coastal They don't feel the name but they say the music dope though Fuck it, that's how it's supposed to go, these bloggers too emotional They'll be postin' you until labels start inter-scopin' you By then, it's wild late and I'll be chillin' where I lay Cause I'd rather see the top than to be livin' where I lay Imbalances in my Kundalini, they tryna put two through my beanie Wish you well, tryin' to poof a genie
[Hook] (x4) But that's just daily routine The streets are cooped fiends Whether the hoops or the booth, niggas shoot dreams Better choose the right scheme Cause you could think you're cool with your nice things But get wiped clean for ice creams when the lights beam
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