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lirik lagu psd - every damn day

(p.s.d.)
yeah, w-ssup baby boy? (hey w-ssup)
i wanna propose a toast to my motherf-ckin’ partner mac l-e-e ya know?
eh! smoke something n-gga!
ahhh, oooiiiee, it’s goin down boy
1996 ya dome will grow

(chorus)
(p.s.d)
every d-mn day i smoke dank
but still i got things on my mind i can’t shake
(mac lee)
and d-mn i can’t wait for a lightweight breakthrough
grand-mama told me that money don’t make you!

(p.s.d.)
but if your -ss broke, you don’t eat motherf-cker!
so i hit the streets, in the game as a youngster
only sixteen on the block selling candy
now my family, can’t understand me
juvenile delinquent, force to describe
smokin’ on ‘indo twisted with thai
had to stay high, in order to cope:
the more money made, the more dank smoked
living loc’, selling dope, never broke
so i tweaked lightweight life
hangin’ out late night, under the street light
doing tight wandering then i’m gone
was always right, and always wrong
but player it was on!

(mac lee)
it was that or double edged trumps under my tongue (???)
white b-tch, tight sh-t, ain’t no wonder they sprung
young player on the g-block competing with these street geeks
one and of a kind, im not one to starve
on the phone call a moon yo, eight one yola. (???)
some rare raps and i’m strapped, lean crossed with cola
doja joint on my left, hollowed-points in my clip;
for the set-trip i dip, a soldiers point is his grip!

(chorus)x2
(p.s.d)
every d-mn day i smoke dank
but still i got things on my mind i can’t shake
(mac lee)
and d-mn i can’t wait for a lightweight breakthrough
grand-mama told me that money don’t make you!

(p.s.d)
another day another dollar to be checked, right?
i’m on the ave trying to get my game tight
head lights hit the corner!
and i’m on a fifth of that gin, strapped with my mac-ten
thirty-one reasons, a hater better think first!
if it’s funk, i’m letting off a quick burst!
kinda perked, but never too perked though:
it’s ya chance, three deep in a four door
celebrities wish they catching me out of pocket
and if they stop: i’m jetting like a rocket!
a young hog on the track when i’m derpin’
perking like folgers, and i’m serving boulders
getting each and every sale:
h-lla fools got llallo but i clientele!
so as i kick back, on the dope track
and let my mills stack forever…

(mac lee)
see what they better do is let that residue stick
that westside hoo-bang and we too thick!
and we move sh-t around and go
if you ain’t from the town, you’re foe
holding your wound, my 5-0 in your tomb
as i zoom down the g-block and dope fiends (???)
not concered,too short
serving sherm newports
went from doja to crack to heroin then back
now i’m movin sherm sticks and they don’t know how to act
in the ‘lac dookie ground with pound
hoochies down feel my coochie-coolie cap me now (???)
taking me down, oh-no. you living foul:
never trust a big b-tt and a smile
or a dead n-gga, thrilla for the scrilla (well)!

(mac lee)
age fourteen my whole team:
was swollen as mumps
on the savage–ss grind in the pose for months
where the spinach sh-t? cause misused herb was a booster
serving murders, cause if she didn’t it scared ya
went to pimp like a go-rilla
suckas bust in the girl, post the hook, best to show scrilla
cause on site i’m like “if you ain’t right i want your mama!”
stictly in the game to gain, f-ck the drama

(p.s.d.)
crush the leafs and crumbs
on the run from my evil ways
spliffs and blunts, taking tricks and punks for pay
(mac lee)
cause in a way n-gga
(p.s.d.)
end up in the grave n-gga!
(mac lee)
cause in the bay n-gga!
(p.s.d.)
purp, pop, and play n-gga!

(mac lee)
freshest when the game p-ssed
f-ck them fake players/haters
sneak on hurt something
mouthpiece worked on
real-talk, paradise
perking, irking, jerking
got my my speech slurred
ya’ll cats sn-tch till my rides and my fleet swerve
hours and hours of tripping off the rose n-gga
drop far or not, i’m a soldier like a told ya
it ain’t going to stop till my hashish smoked up the whole bay
down taking your birthdays from old lays (???)

(mumbling, irrelevant)

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