Baller
by: Lil Troy
(Chorus)
Wanna be a - baller, shot caller
Twenty inch blades - on the Impala
Call'er, gettin laid tonight
Swisher rolled tight, gotta spray my ice
I hit the highway, makin' money the fly way
But there's gotta be a better way
A better way, better way, Yeah
I'm a - baller, I'm a twenty inch crawler
Blades on Impala, diamond rotweiller
R-10 hauler, never leader, not a follower
Break these boys off I'm a twenty inch crawler
Bust a left, a right, I'm outta site, I'm throwed
I'm bouncin' off the road I'm in a modem with a fold 'em
Tiny toon - hop out my big body foreign
Chain with the charm, can't forget my what, alarm
I hopped out, I'm lookin good, diamonds against my wood
Man it's understood - got money in my hood
I'm pushin big body can't stop me
For the nine-eight got to sell a million copy
I'm a crawl slow puffin on the Optimo hit the sto'
I'm a go real slow - puffin in do out the do'
I'm a lit the stash green, man I'm lookin clean
Want remote control screens with ice bezeltynes
(Chorus)
Big ballin, smashin, makin my ends
Smokin big killa gettin high in the Benz
Big ballin, smashin, makin my ends
Smokin big killa gettin high in the Benz
In the wind smoke goes as I crawl down on Vogues
Twenty Lorenzo, smoke all up in my nose
Yo' eyes, get froze, as you see my low
Candy-red, two-do', let my top down slow
Hittin, my remote, sittin, in my sh*t
Presidentual V-12 with that AMG kit
It don't quit, as I get high
from K.C. to H-Town, connectin South Side
Now we worldwide, watch me highside
Fat Pat blowin killa, can't be denied
187 thugs, oh yeah we got love
Blowin sticky grean we flow through and above
(Chorus)
Sittin' Fat Down South, rollin Benz on blocks
Mo' scrillla I got, signin with Shortstop
And that's for real, so tell me how you feel
to make a million dollars out my first record deal
Shortstop - puttin up with you motherf*ckin ear
Really Reall don't give a f*ck and I ain't drinkin no beer
Codeine what I sip, pistol grip when I ride
Trunk hit fo' life baby it's SouthSide
We on a f*ckin mission Expedition Navagator
That's how we be ridin, aligator suitcasin
Puttin it in your face, and that's for real
Shinin harder than the grill it's the player Lil Will
Down with the 2-Low, Yungstar be a thug
So nigga nigga what? I'm down with Mo' Thugs
Mo' Thugs and Da Bone, you know it's goin down
Represent that H-Town, pop trunks surround by sound
(Chorus)
I gots to get better man, it gots to move on
Switched from Motorola to a PrimeCo Phone
Broke in two chrome, now you know no dope pigeon
Used to count my spoke, now these hoes count my inches
Had to get older - man it got colder
I done got grown and got a chip on my shoulder
Links in Kuwait, got links in Pakastan
Boys don't understand virtual reality caravan
Double doors marble floors naked hoes around me
Everytime I'm coming out, niggaz they wanna sign me
Got the Lil' Will, diamond grill is in the wind
Blaze in the Benz and you can't forget the den
The boo went donw to Rueben's, I'm watchin on a movie
Drop the top on scott, and you know I'm in a jacuzzi
Bourbon and I'm swervin, man it's gettin hot
My last name Lemmon, drive my tight'um off the lot, David Taylor
(Chorus)
I hit the highway
Everything's my way, I par-le
Everyday all day, ain't no way
Boys can't stop as I slide through your neighborhood
Chop, chop, chop, headed straight to the top
I only play to win - bout to close up shop
Showstoppin dead end, pimp the pen once again
Peep the message I send
Take these levels that you devils can't comprehend
Big body Benz - as I floss through the south
Big blue lens - now whatcha talkin about?
Close yo' mouth - as I settle all scores
Scream and shout - my similies and metephors
Mansion doors - I constantly close
All you hoes - go and take your clothes
Lord knows - ain't no time to play
Commence to f*ckin and-a suckin on the H.A.W.K
(Chorus)
~*Jessie*~
