Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Wanna Be Balla (feat. Lil Troy, H.A.W.K. & Yungstar) , by - Fat Pat. Release date: 19.02.2001
Song language: English
Wanna Be Balla (feat. Lil Troy, H.A.W.K. & Yungstar) |
| Want to be a baller shot caller |
| Twenty inch blades on the Impala |
| A caller gettin laid tonight |
| Swisher rolled tight, gotta spray my ice |
| I hit the highway making money the fly way |
| But there’s got to be a better way |
| A better way, better way, yeah, ah |
| I’ma baller I’ma twenty inch crawler |
| Blades on Impala, diamond rottweiller |
| Octane hauler, not a leader not follower |
| Break these boys off I’ma twenty inch crawler |
| Bust a left, a right, I’m outta sight I’m throwed |
| I’m bouncin off the road I’m in a modem with them foe dem |
| Tiny tune -- hop out my big body form |
| Chain with the chong, can’t forget Moet along |
| I’m hot, find me lookin good, diamonds against my wood |
| Man it’s understood -- got money in my hood |
| I’m pushing big body can’t stop me |
| For the nine-eight got to sell a million copy |
| I’ma crawl slow puffin on the Optimo hit the sto' |
| I’ma go real slow -- puffin indo out the do' |
| I’ma lit the stash green, man I’m lookin clean |
| Want remote control screens with ice bezeltynes |
| 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 shit |
| Presidential V-12 with that AMG kit |
| It don’t quit, as I get high |
| From K.C. |
| to H-Town, connectin SouthSide |
| Now we worldwide, watch me highside |
| Fat Pat blowin killa, can’t be denied |
| 187 thugs, oh yeah we got love |
| Blowin sticky green we flow through and above |
| Sittin' Fat Down South, rollin Benz on blocks |
| Mo' scrilla 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 your motherfuckin ear |
| Really really don’t give a fuck and I ain’t drinkin on no beer |
| Codeine what I sip, pistol grip when I ride |
| Trunk hit fo' life baby it’s SouthSide |
| We on a fuckin mission Expedition Navigator |
| That’s how we be ridin, alligator 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 my own thugs |
| Mo' thugs in the pound, you know it’s goin down |
| Represent that H-Town, pop trunks surround by sound |
| 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 |
| Licks in Kuwait, got links in Pakistan |
| Boys don’t understand virtual reality Caravan |
| Double doors marble floors naked hoes around me |
| Every time I’m comin out, niggas they want to sign me |
| Got the Lil' Will diamond grillers ?? |
| Blaze in the Benz and you can’t forget the den |
| The boo went down to Rueben’s, I’m watchin on a movie |
| Drop the top it’s cotton, and you know I’m in a jacuzzi |
| Bourban and I’m swervin, man it’s gettin hot |
| My last name Lemmon, drive my tight’um off the lot, David Taylor |
| 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 bout it 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 similes and metaphors |
| Mansion doors -- I constantly close |
| All you hoes -- go and take off your clothes |
| Lord knows -- ain’t no time to play |
| Commence to fuckin and-a suckin on the H.A.W.K |
| Want to be a baller shot caller |
| Twenty inch blades on the Impala |
| A caller gettin laid tonight |
| Swisher rolled tight, gotta spray my ice |
| I hit the highway making money the fly way |
| But there’s got to be a better way |
| A better way, better way, yeah, ah |