Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song I'm a Baller, artist - Lil' Flip. Date of issue: 18.12.2006
Song language: English
I'm a Baller |
| The wheels on my truck, go round and round |
| I’m sitting 24 inches, off of the ground |
| How that sound, mama said do what you’d like |
| Hold it rocking flights, red, white and blue stripes |
| But hold up, down South still on nonstop |
| Cause we been representing down here, for a while |
| With no solo album, I was still amazing |
| Stayed full of them trees, I was purple hazing |
| Look at me now, Redd ain’t playing around |
| Two skinny, but my stacks keep weighing me down |
| They say balling is a habit no, I can’t help it |
| Now I got more green, than a Boston Celtic |
| So I’m going all out, on a money route |
| Now I think these niggas, really know what I’m about |
| I don’t know where you been, I don’t know where you from |
| But around these parts, we get it how it come |
| See I’m a flosser, balling like you see it |
| Recognize me as a balla, legend in the streets |
| Best believe I did it all but, that will never stop me |
| From feeling like a flosser, cause I’m a balla |
| I’m still in the game, y’all catch my drift |
| I got that work cheap dog, peep my flip |
| When I hop out the truck, y’all catch my drift |
| The rolly’s so icy, bitch get off my dick |
| We ride the finest cars, you know we stay stunting |
| Rims so big on the six, they sit funny |
| If it ain’t broke don’t fix it, blunt it and blist it |
| In a all blue something, with the plates unlisted |
| Like Nike, keeping you bitch niggas in check |
| Yeah whodi you know me, they boy is back |
| With two bricks, two chicks and two platinum Macks |
| I stay grinding, so you know I stay shining |
| See I’m like a value meal, my doe supersized |
| Copping a brand new Bentley, Coupe to ride |
| With mo' cake than a bakery, we got cream |
| Candy truck radio up, like Raheim |
| 7−1-3 nigga, that’s the name of my team |
| We still get full of that syrup, and gangsta lean |
| I still be ghetto fab, if I drove a yellow cab |
| Yung Redd enough said, my niggas got cash |
| Don’t get it twisted up, my wrist lit up |
| You gotta show me something, for me to get up |
| Just call me a rough neck, but I cash enough checks |
| To put me in a Vet, and roll off with a set |
| The streets give me respect, for everything that I did |
| As a kid I always kept a strap, close to my ribs |
| But I don’t know where you been, and I don’t know where you from |
| But around these parts, we get it how it come |