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Artist: Lloyd Banks
Album:  The Cold Corner 2
Song:   Joke's on You
Typed by: 

[movie dialogue from Spike Lee's "Mo' Better Blues"]
I have a certain amount of time allotted for daily practice!
You know this, yet you consistently overlook my program.
  I get the times mixed up.
  Everything with you is so damn regulated.
  A certain time to do this, a certain time to do that.
  Everything's on a schedule, a time table.
Let me explain something to you - life is short, okay?
I need it like this to do all the things I gotta do, I like order.
  Order's fine, but you're ridiculous!
And what do you want?
  I want a man who knows what he wants - decisive!
  You don't know what you want.
  Make up your mind, be a man, and don't be wishy-washy on me.
Hmm, I know what I want, my music.
Everything else is secondary.
  I knew you would say that.
Then why'd you ask?

[Intro: Lloyd Banks]
Yeah (yeah)
I'm just tryin to do my thing shorty (do my thing shorty)
Do yours (do yours)
X me out on your board

[Chorus: Lloyd Banks]
I'm on the move every night, you know I ain't livin right
And you wanna be the wifey (wifey, wifey)
So it's hurtin you to like me (like me, like me)
And it's killin you to love
Chatter gets to you cause you're always in the club
I ain't tryin to cuddle up, girl you gotta go home
Don't get me outta my zone, stop callin my phone
Save the cryin for the dummy (dummy)
I wake up both eyes on the motherfuckin money (money)

[Lloyd Banks]
Uhh; you ain't really hurt bitch, you been down this road before
Problem when lies surface, bullshit that you done heard and more
I tapped your pen, let out the bullet, but now I'm servin raw
The quickest way of trappin them, havin you have to go to court
Life-long accident, one night of action got you caught
Victim to the spot, now you up to your knees in child support
But uh-uhh! Not me, I'm Rocky in the drop V
I'm top seed, on it, word to Big and Lil' Kateef{?}
Lambo down the side streets
Same neighborhood as LL, Kool G. and Mobb Deep, 'Pone and Nore in fly sneaks
Ghetto bitches, dime freaks, I'm just tryin to fit in
Finally get my shit off so they mention my name with them
No Valentine cause none of these ladies mine
Not my girl, girl'll be fiancée, or baby mom
Brand new women to bring home, chains, watches and rings shown
Come into my reality, "P.I.M.P." my ringtone


[Lloyd Banks]
Uhh; how you think I got to the money, bein stupid?
You done fucked around and got yo' dumbass in my music
I got new hoes, for today, fuckin girls they all'll pay
I'm guarateed to score, like Jordan a basketballer way
Lot of missed calling, you're boring, I'll be gone 'til autumn
Girls in no order, you can have 'em, I can't afford 'em
Don't pillow-talk, them broads ain't holdin water
And they ain't faithful either, catch me in the nightclub pourin Rosé on her
Balls in a model hand, shine like a hologram
Orgies a dime a dozen, clockwork like the dollar van
Barely like 'em, don't love 'em, show stoppers, exotic tans
Dancin while I judge 'em, I thug 'em all out way out in France
I ain't your come up, she gon' roll the blunt up
An hour later and one nut, and I hit you back, nunchuck
Hit the street when the sun's up, shittin now by the dump truck
Hold on, let me see what this bitch want, WHAT?!