lloyd banks - joke's on you lyrics
[spike lee’s “mo’ better blues (1990) “:]
[bleek:] i have a certain amount of time allotted for daily practice!
you know this! yet you consistently overlook my program.
[clarke:] i get the times mixed up.
[bleek:] hmm.
[clarke:] everything with you is so d-mn regulated.
a certain time to do this… a certain time to do that.
everything’s on a schedule, a time table!
[bleek:] let me explain something to you!
life is short… okay? i need it like this to do the things i gotta do, i like order.
[clarke:] order’s fine,.. but you’re ridiculous!
[bleek:] what do you want?
[clarke:] i want a man who knows what he wants… decisive!
you don’t know what you want!
make up your mind, to be a man, and don’t be wishy-washy on me!
[bleek:] hmm.
i know what i want: my music. everything else is secondary!
[clarke:] i knew you would say that.
[bleek:] then why did you ask?
[intro:]
yeah!
i’m just tryna do my thing, you know?
do yours!
[chorus:]
i’m on the move everynight, (uh!)
> you know i ain’t livin right,
and you wanna be the wifey! (wifey…)
so it’s hurtin’ you to like me, (like me…)
and it’s killin’ you to love, (uh!)
chatter gets to you cause you always in the club, (uh-huh!)
i ain’t tryna cuddle up, girl you gotta go home!
don’t get me outta my zone. – stop callin’ my phone! (uh!)
save the cryin’ for the dummy! (dummy…)
i wake up – both eyes on the motherf-ckin’ money. (money…)
[verse 1:]
uhh! – you ain’t really hurt, b-tch! – you been down this road before,
problem when lies surface (uh!) – bullsh-t you done heard and more!
i tap the pen, – let out the bullet, – but i don’t serve ’em raw, (raw!)
quickest way of trappin’ ’em, havin’ you, have to go to court. (daamn!)
life long accident, one night of action got ya caught,
victim to their spot, now you’re up to your knees in child support,
but uh-uuuhh! (uh-uh!) – not me! – i’m rocky in a drop v,
i’m top see – on it word to big an’ lil’ katif.
lambo’ down the side streets,
same neighborhood as ll cool j and mobb deep, (ca) pone and nore’ and fly sneaks! (uh!)
ghetto b-tches dime freaks! – i’m just tryna fit in,
finally get my sh-t off so they mention my name with them! (yeah!)
no valentine, cause none of these ladies mine, (nah!)
not my girl, girl like be fiancã©e – or baby mom. (mom!)
brand new women to bring home, chains watches and ring shown,
come into my reality! – “p.i.m.p.” my ringtone! (ringtone!)
[chorus]
[verse 2:]
how do you think i got to the money? – bein’ stupid?!
you done f-cked around and got yo’ dumb -ss in my music.
i got new hoes – for the day. – f-ckin’ girls they all will pay,
i’m guarented to score – like jordan in a basketballer way.
a lot of missed callin’, ya borin’? – i’ll be gone to all them,
girls in no order! – you can have ’em, i can’t afford ’em. (whooo!)
don’t pillow-talk, them broads ain’t holdin’ water,
and they ain’t’ faithful either, catch me in the nightclub throwin’ rozay on her.
b-lls in a model hand, shine like a hologram;
orgies, a dime a dozen. – clockwork like a dollar van! (yeah!)
barely like ’em, don’t love ’em! – showstoppers exotic tans,
dancin’ while i judge ’em, i thug ’em all the way out in france. (france!)
i ain’t ya come up! – she gonna roll the blunt up, (yeah!)
an hour later and one nut, – then i’ll hit you back, nunchuck. (uh!)
hit the street when the sun’s up. – sh-ttin’ now by the dump truck;
hold on! – let me see what this b-tch want! – what?!
[chorus]
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