Common, De La Soul - Days of Our Lives lyrics

Uh, yeah, uh, yeah, uh

I want the boom in the back of the truck
Ain't nuttin the matter with a
Good dude havin a buck
With that on my mind, I'm on the grind
It pays
We break it down in these three ways, yo

These days
I travel the Maze like Frank Beverly
To the East, lookin for pieces of a better me
Responsibility of my man's felony fell on me
Celebrity status
Make 'em think I got sell on me
Hell and I do sometimes
Still the sunshine ain't even all day
(yeah) The life of a baller
Ain't even all play i stack 'em
So the chips fall where they must
I ain't far from a Benz, or dude on the bus
Even when I don't have enough
Still in God I trust
Said baby you're a star
Said I'm on the cusp
Seen the jiggiest of stars become dust
And one love become lust for the papers
Had you gassed now that - gas became vapors
Tricked your cash on ice shoulda had acres
Now your, empire fell like the Lakers
So you're talkin to your maker
It's the nature of the business
They givin niggas inches
Takin miles and mules
It's the wildest rules
I'm tryin to walk in the
Black scent of proudest shoes
Makin music that the crowds can use

I want twenty-four plus on these
Put the pinto engine and the bus on these
I get that first class seat
To escape the days
We break it down in these three ways

Check the life I got
That antidote, canteloupe scent, bent back
In the sunroom froze, put your flick on pause
There's no occasion nigga it's just because
I'm celebratin for a hell of a day
Get these Barbie filets on
Hot charcoal tracks, so black
Darko Pecoltrane plays them back
We them freedom fight kids who
Gon' ball and raise fists
If y'all down for the
Struggle, c'mon y'all, resist
Everyday script, I exercise cheek
Sixteen on the bar, I exercise speak
It's been a long time
Long Isle's on the map
While y'all stand on the corner
Stoned like Chris
Kiss back, watchin time - wrist back
Every second count but just finish this lap
You gamble on your life like casino slots
And cash out and still walk with a knot






I furnished the rooms, and mortgage on these
See them quittin ass rappers caused
A shortage on these
The soul boys of big illa noyz get the praise
We break it down in these three ways

My moms died from secondhand smoke so
I wish yo' ass would die
From them secondhand rhymes you wrote
Or shall I call them second rhymes -
Written seconds 'fore you enter the booth
Words thrown together with very little truth
And a select few can do it
(true) you ain't part of them scriptures
And got the nerve to feel you
Want me out the picture
But I was never in it
I'm the frame around the flick
Or dishin in the mouth of
Your dame around my dick
Ladies and gentlemen, introducin Workmatic
One of LI's finest, and this is "MY LIFE"
Which is filled with bad
Minutes and good hours
And, good months and bad years
And with my peers
We struggle to juggle the shit
Family life and the music
Game don't easily fit
My lady wants me home
Sayin rap tour three rap whores
And scores of scandal
Even more than we can handle
Sometimes, the rhymes I say
Is the fly the currency to save the day
Can't turn it away, cause we out
To find presennce way beyond our measure
So baby don't pout

Don't pout, De La Soul now turn it out
Don't pout, Common Sense'll turn it out
Don't pout