Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Day by Day, artist - A.L.Date of issue: 31.12.1997
Song language: English
Day by Day |
| Yo you think that, it’s crazy man? |
| This brother from South Africa told me that there’s like |
| A 2Pac tribe, and a Biggie tribe right? |
| And heads got like AK-47's and machine guns and |
| And and and Africans killin each other |
| Over some East coast/West coast, knahmsayin? |
| I mean that we deaded it a long time ago man |
| But lives is bein lost, yaknahmsayin? |
| Over some bullshit, yaknamsayin? |
| I don’t really understand it yo |
| Yo, reality is life and death, full of fights and threats |
| Murders, burglars, prostitutes search the night for sex |
| Rollin dice on steps, take advice from vets, brains are bright in death |
| And you can have accounts that never bounce from writin checks |
| Life and tecs, there ain’t really much here |
| Either sports video games you deal or cut here |
| Jeeps or Porches, a portion of dreams in fortune |
| Intercourse that I’m stressed to keep it or abortion |
| My topics full of plans, on profit from this land |
| A pocket full of grands to have your optics full of fans |
| I’m tired of dollar bands, shoppin carts pushin cans |
| And jobs ain’t callin back, you better off pullin scams |
| To rack props, cops harass black blocks |
| Parents addicted, kids on they colors from crack tops |
| For jacktops, pistols instead of tissue muscle to bust you |
| You got a choice, either b-boy or drugs can rush you |
| Life is too short, that’s why I strive to live it to the fullest |
| Half my brothers are locked up, the other half a caught a bullet |
| To pull it, it’s kinda strange like every night I got a full moon |
| I used to pull boom, hopin one day I’d drop a jewel soon |
| But hard to see that, with so many problems in my picture |
| My car? that, I try to soft it with the liquor |
| We’re dissolvin quicker, my streets are hotter than Cancun |
| Backstabbers’ll shank you, say more than thank you and prank you |
| They’re brainwashin us, that’s why I never use the shampoo |
| The game knockin us, that’s why I’m clever when the cam zooms |
| So what’s the reason for the treason who you pleasin when you skeezin |
| Bullets breezin every season leavin bodies freezin |
| Forget excuses, puttin the blame up on the flamer |
| Hip-Hop is useless, when entertainers hit containers |
| Simple and plainer but crime is gettin stranger |
| Wrinkles my gainer, but in time we’ll live in danger |
| No remainders in my chamber my eras are filled with toxicant |
| Lyrics my oxygen I get the spirits from my moccassins |
| My mouth is where I dropped my gem, I made the Glock my friend |
| No peace in the East, little kids is throwin rocks again |
| Chorus: Talib Kweli |
| It’s only one life to live so I sacrifice |
| But nobody came back from the afterlife |
| Life and death is the fate of the streets |
| Take it day by day, pray before I eat, pray before I sleep |
| One life to live so I sacrifice |
| When nobody came back from the afterlife |
| Life and death is the fate of the streets |
| Take it day by day, pray before I eat, pray before I sleep |
| The survivor of slavery, definition of bravery |
| Flowin like Brooks bust Nines in Deep Space like Avery |
| With rhymes made to be complete like A to Z |
| Or the number nine the months of pregnancy, what can you say to me? |
| Call up the travel agency, book a flight to the end of time |
| When the wicked get refined, the righteous kick a rhyme livin divine |
| Rewind, to the present state of mind right now |
| Where beef will have you dead like the first man to catch Mad Cow |
| Life is full of too much trifeness to chill and be enjoyin |
| I be in the inner city like asbestos and lead poison |
| My memories within the cannon of history |
| Ready aim spit-fire my artillery, in the faces of cats who grillin me |
| (Yo what you lookin at?) Quick to touch up cats who ain’t feelin me |
| With the ability, to plug you in, like auxillary |
| Livin digitally, the only condition is critically |
| You still the man physically but I’m sunnin you spiritually |
| Consider me far from average, lyrical rites of passage |
| Rhymes comin out my cabbage, cold light up a savage |
| Take you back to baby carriage, yo, for what it’s worth |
| Drop a master verse before they cleaned up the afterbirth |
| Aiyyo since I was teethin, I was labelled a heathen |
| A demon, my pops must have had bad semen |
| Now all eyes peepin, the man with the raps |
| Been kickin since the womb and my moms felt that |
| Train of thought off track, cause I couldn’t F widdit |
| I taught myself to hold ground on one pivot |
| And never be timid, call me the rap God |
| A slave to the game just like Amistad |
| I rap eager, a daydreamer |
| I seen cats dance for crack, like Gator in Jungle Fever |
| While the thugs bust shots til it just don’t stop |
| I’ll have a fat knot, controllin finances through the laptop |
| Enhancin your mind, at night when I rhyme |
| I spit gems that shine havin you thinkin it’s daytime |
| I be the final sign, at any rate, opposin debate |
| For all rappers with militant mindstates |