Teksty: Lloyd Banks. Sooner Or Later (Die 1 Day).

[feat. Raekwon]

[Intro:]
I know that sooner or later I'm going to meet my maker

[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]
I never thought in the beginning I would see us fall in the end
Pay a man to paint pictures on the wall of my friends
1990s sins it was all for the [?]
For the rims rims, for the Benz Benz, for the skins
'Fore you talk about money, make a mil first
You [?], either kill me or get killed worse
Your song's in need of a real verse
Son of the man, God feel me like he feel church
And right after speech time, the spark in the street crime
Niggas throwing anything at you except for peace signs
Live by the gun, die by the gun
'Til my time come, I'm a spend time with your son
I can just see them sad when they remind you of them
Them would've did the same thing, looking [?] to the slum
[?]

[Hook: Lloyd Banks]
Why run nigga?
It's gon' come nigga
But 'til the day it does
I'm a hold my shit down, take it in blood
Outsiders get no love

[Verse 2: Raekwon]
Fishing in the swamp, in the deserts lizards sweat
A half a billion fives, two macs, and a ride
They call them [?] co-signed by kings in a rich [?]
Made me 3 mil in a month, pockets [?]
Ferrari still by the project building
[?] I'll, they come out with Uzis and wheels
[?] beef and too much dough
The legion, [?]
Losing money fellas, we won't have that, better grab that
Or don't come back or get [?] at
Me and my vixens in the kitchen
One sucking dick, I paid her ass shots and sent her to [?]
Dons eating calamari, coke in the [?]
Never broke, [?], eat with the godly gods
[?] get with the mob
From [?] to Queens, we wow with the Beams

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Lloyd Banks]
Don't blame me, blame Southside
That's what made me mine
Crazy high, but I spot a traitor out my lazy eye
Ladies spy [?] want to have their baby by
Maybe I'm better off alone, keep me in my zone
Nights roam, white Patron, GT in my chrome
Alien phone home, E.T. in my throne
I achieve what they wanted, eats into they stomach
When your broke time's slow, but your weeks are numbered
And bad news keeps you weak and numb
Like when I lost my old man, dammit threw up the whole weekend son
I should have listened, friends turned foe, it's told so
The fo' fo' make a nigga run like Ochocinco
In my mink-o I'm a protege of pimping
Living for the slipping, [?]
Marijuana shipping, champagne, lobsters, stripping
Getting trained not to listen, maintain pop the clip in

[Hook]