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