| 90 racks for the watch, 30 stacks for the chain
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| A 50 bar for the medallion, diamonds drippy like the rain
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| Lower development housing is where I was taught to talk my talk
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| In the thick of the smudge, the slime, on the tar like crosswalk
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| A young factor having scrilly, spending blue notes in a drought
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| Living for the moment, fuck further out
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| Tomahawk by my kidney, MCM belt
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| Fucker want beef, I’m make him a patty melt
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| I’ma see you about something, send my crash dummy
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| He ain’t from Japan, but he like to play kamikaze
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| Your bitch got sloppy toppy, off of the ginger ale with Jack
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| She got that hot throat with a built-in thermostat
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| I’m smoking agricultural and vegetation in the backseat zone and blazin'
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| In the clean 19 with the dealership plates, insurance and registration
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| Garnished and decorated with all the toppings and all the fixings
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| We don’t fuck with turf dirt, we only fuck with vixens
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| I don’t jog, fuck the brown police dog
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| From the Yay, apartment complexes and smog
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| Get it, count money in the fog
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| What? |
| Ballhog
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| I don’t jog, fuck the brown police dog
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| From the Yay, apartment complexes and smog
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| Get it, count money in the fog
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| What? |
| Ballhog, ballhog
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| Hallelujuah! |
| The Lord blessed me with gouda
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| You can find me on vacation in Barbados or Aruba
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| Puerto Villarta, Mexico, Bora Bora or Bermuda
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| Me don’t do no snorkel, me don’t do no scuba
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| Under difficult circumstances, I’m having my finances
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| Used to be the lowest man on the totem pole, used to be the brokest kid on
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| campus
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| Way ahead of my time, the laughing stock in pre-school
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| Holes in my pants when ripped jeans wasn’t cool
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| Beat the odds, count my blessings, it’s a blessing
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| Praise God for replying to my message
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| Suckers don’t understand me 'cause they ain’t got no understanding
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| I’m out here feasting, I ain’t famine, eating jasmine rice and salmon
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| Your little gutter chick ain’t handling, got you sprung
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| Need to tell that hoe to douche and brush her tongue
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| Wandering eyes, wondering why I ain’t calling
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| Come and get your bitch, she out here thottin', reckless eyeballin'…BIATCH!
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| I don’t jog, fuck the brown police dog
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| From the Yay, apartment complexes and smog
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| Get it, count money in the fog
|
| What? |
| Ballhog
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| I don’t jog, fuck the brown police dog
|
| From the Yay, apartment complexes and smog
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| Get it, count money in the fog
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| What? |
| Ballhog, ballhog
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| Ballhog, ballhog |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ballhog, artist - E-40. Album song The Gift of Gab, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп