Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ballin, artist - Kevin Gates.
Date of issue: 12.02.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Ballin |
I’m ballin' ballin' ballin' bitch |
Don’t know what else to call this shit |
All this gualas I brought with me |
I fuck around and spend all this shit |
I fuck around spend all this shit, I’m ballin' ballin' ballin' bitch |
I fuck around spend all this shit |
I’m ballin' ballin' ballin' bitch |
Don’t know what else to call this shit |
All this gualas I brought with me |
I fuck around and spend all this shit |
I fuck around spend all this shit, I’m ballin' ballin' ballin' bitch |
I fuck around spend all this shit |
I started off fucked up, finally got my weight up |
Still trying to figure out what the fuck you hating for |
When I come around it feel just like an appraisal |
Independent nigga getting it in just like the majors |
Thumbing through the checks feel like a nigga turning pages |
If you was cool and ain’t no more, you’ve done us both a favor |
Eighties baby, grew up on a pistol and a pager |
Got a free quarter ounce, I bet a hundred on the Lakers |
I should say against them, you know I’m riding with the Heat |
At the corner store with my box Chevy |
Box of rubbers, box of swisher sweets |
Still got a bitch that got a bitch that’ll get your bitch to leave |
Switch up freaks like I swap my whips, that shit ain’t real as shit to me |
I get to the money partner, you too broke to talk to me |
I been counting up all this week, on top of my shit like a toilet seat |
I’m rich just like I oughta be, and being real don’t cost a fee |
Tell your girl come ride with me |
Dick buffet, all she can eat |
Loud pack in a mason jar, drive slow in a race car |
This yellow bitch I’m in traffic with |
She fine as shit and she paid for |
Nah this ho can’t be my wife, just make sure you roll my weed up right |
Made my eyes so low, it looks like I’m gonna cook me fried rice |
I’m ballin, ballin, ballin, bitch |
In a car that costs like 40 bricks |
Bought a case of sprite and Imma pour codeine in all this shit |
These niggas ain’t trill, these niggas policing on the low |
Take a nigga’s bitch, and leave the club |
But he can put an APP on that ho |
Screeching, no reason |
Saved by the bell, this bitch to the right |
Pretty face, tall, white, with a smile like Lisa |
Big booty diva |
Broke a brick down, need a band of zap |
And three hundred for the O’s of reefer |
Twenty five bags of the OG kush and the grandaddy purp come weekly |
Xans and tabs in the air, no slab, but thank god for my people |
On the road doing show after show after show and I still eat good off features |
Clunking, gold, and tweaking if the streets ain’t got no lean |
Say they bought like nine 50 for the seal I say I need it |
Took time, this crook’s fine, had bad karma, I shook mine |
Jab good, slip excellent, uppercuts, my hook’s fine |
Refrigeration, illustration, ice on, got niggas hating |
Foreign whip, foreign bitch, what that is, immigration |
Overcooked dope bags cocaine |
If it cook too long then they may complain |
Dope game both lanes, won’t say no names |
Don’t make propane, won’t make no change |
From the ghetto work that’s why I’m ballin, I’m ballin |
If you’ve got a problem with it I ain’t sorry, I ain’t sorry |
I’m ballin' ballin' ballin' bitch |
Don’t know what else to call this shit |
All this gualas I brought with me |
I fuck around and spend all this shit |
I fuck around spend all this shit, I’m ballin' ballin' ballin' bitch |
I fuck around spend all this shit |
I’m ballin' ballin' ballin' bitch |
Don’t know what else to call this shit |
All this gualas I brought with me |
I fuck around and spend all this shit |
I fuck around spend all this shit, I’m ballin' ballin' ballin' bitch |
I fuck around spend all this shit |