Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ball And Bun, artist - 8Ball. Date of issue: 18.05.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Ball And Bun |
| Check 1, 2 |
| Check 1, 2 baby, yeah, uh |
| 1, 2, 1, 2, microphone check, 2 |
| Somebody better tells these mothafuckers how we wreck fools |
| Disrespect fools |
| Check and snap necks too |
| Chrushin' duos |
| Sittin', waitin' on the next 2 |
| Nigga, me and Bun got the extra clips and bullet proofs |
| Gone off illegal shit, bustin' out the sunroofs |
| Scatterin', niggas chatterin' |
| About where they been |
| Where they from, why they hate me, and relate me with |
| Stereotipical, down South country shit |
| On the real, we on the hustlin' makin' money shit |
| It’s EightBizall makin' nigga feel Memphis, Tenn |
| Makin' hip-hop, funky as a chit-a-lin |
| Bitter men, mad, thinkin' that they better men |
| Knockin' at the Suave House door, but we won’t let 'em in |
| Hoes and niggas, got a lot of shit to talk about |
| Runnin' your mouth, can get you dead, deep down South |
| I don’t know where ya been |
| And I don’t know what ya seen |
| But I know deep down South |
| It’s all about the green |
| Now, I don’t know what ya seen |
| And I don’t know where ya been |
| But I know deep down South, ya keep your G-U-N |
| I don’t know what you’ve done |
| And I don’t know what you do |
| But I know deep down South |
| Nigga, it’s all on you |
| Now, I don’t know what you do |
| An I know what you’ve done |
| But we can’t tell ya 'bout nobody else |
| But Ball and Bun |
| I see no evil |
| Say no evil |
| Hear no evil |
| Try not to get in no evils |
| Raised up on Briz and Biz Bo-wevils |
| Ain’t no sequels for your people when we touch down |
| South gon' put that crush down |
| Nigga lay your philly, and you’ll touch down |
| Takin' that shit so much clown |
| Don’t even sound real no mo' |
| Your cap’ll get peeled, slo-mo |
| Fuck you and that steel .44 |
| I’m triz, oh ho |
| Pay your dumbasses no nevermind |
| Flip flows, so clever shine |
| Like diamond grapes on leather vines |
| Forever I regard it |
| As the first fool that started |
| Movin' gassed up niggas till they farted |
| Hands, black hearted, cold |
| Get retarded |
| Like slingblade, it bring made niggas |
| I played niggas |
| Still wanna see a thing fade niggas |
| I stay niggas |
| That is the fight, what you believe |
| Give you life room to breathe |
| But tonights the night for you to leave |
| As soon as sleep |
| Ain’t got, no tricks up |
| Your still get mixed up |
| From Southern black macks |
| That stay gettin' they dicked sucked |
| Crooked as the first letter in the word South |
| Niggas who be 'bout gettin' paid, even when it’s a drought |
| Fuckin' some stout, smokin' out |
| At my nigga house |
| 98 live, side bet and gettin' screwed out |
| Screwed up, drinkin' my cup |
| Grippin' my nuts |
| Hoes be jockin', but eager niggas get setup |
| Wet up, fucked up, what’s up? |
| Test us, guess what? |
| True but, you just, messed up |
| Deeper, than encyclopedia Britanica |
| If Ball don’t do it, then Bun-B gonna handle ya |
| To all you Betty Crocker |
| Cock knockers that wanna cook a cake |
| But don’t know what it took to make that bitch |
| Take a look you fake |
| And switch your recipe |
| Niggas always takin' tests of me |
| Pressin' me, just to see the stress and hate |
| Bring the best of me |
| Leave your mouth open, sesame seed |
| I seperate from stem and weed |
| Me, I go, murder |
| Murder them in deep blood clot |
| They get all red hot from lead shots |
| And what not |
| Mine, I go dead after red dot |
| And buckshot |
| So bitch niggas get the fuck out |
| Leave suckas stuck, fuck props |
| This where the buck stops |
| Yeah, Euphoric images |
| Psycadelic gangsta shit |
| This is fuckin' groovy man |
| I’ll be back |