| Feel the heat from our gunfire, when you see us coming
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| Their your niggas running, wild and heartless and we steady gunning
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| Don’t fuck with a legit baller, don’t cut your ass
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| Come up out the trunk so fast
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| Y’all will get murdered when the pump go blast
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| Set this bitch on fire, when we roll on chrome
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| Smokin' blow in the zone
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| Kicking up more shit than a broken bone
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| Don’t fuck with a legit baller, steady stackin' money
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| Getting down and dirty, try to come at the mob and get your body bloody
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| Havn’t you heard off these muderous cats, ballin' for scratch
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| Niggas shootin' nervous with gats, so hot we circle this drought
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| I drops them hollows, shots to swallow, my motto be «fuck tommorow»
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| Sorrows improbable
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| In Chicago motherfucker, bones get fractured, crumble like crackers
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| Rush the stage, allow the crowd to witness your massacre
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| You ain’t bone, you’re marrow, the lead travels from barrels
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| Bloody apperal, unravvle, chances is narrow
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| Thugs get judged when I drop slugs like gavels
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| Embarrassed and baffled
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| Got people and cattle getting slaughtered in battles
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| In gang land, we bang and ride, vibed gettin' high
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| Ain’t no explaining, represcussions if you don’t comply
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| Get ready motherfucker, my city’s full of brothers who struggle
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| Breed’s, T’s, I’s, U’s, C’s, Four Corner Hustlers
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| Black souls, magic kings and if gats could sing
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| My lyrics squeeze desert ease will rock you to sleep
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| Feel the heat from our gunfire, can you see us coming
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| Making niggas running, wild and heartless and we steady gunning
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| Don’t fuck with a legit baller, don’t cut your ass
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| Come up out the trunk so fast
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| Y’all will get murdered when the pump go blast
|
| Set this bitch on fire, when we roll on chrome
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| Smokin' blow in the zone
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| Kicking up more shit than a broken bone
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| Don’t fuck with a legit baller, steady stackin' water
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| When y’all come up shorter
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| Try to come at the mob and get your body slaughtered
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| I got love for all niggas yelling out «fuck the police»
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| I’m a Jeffery Manor Gangsta wit' the mobsta elites
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| Legit Ballers the family 'til the day that I die
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| They let the south and the westside hook up in the city of Chi'
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| Lettin' off rounds, fifty rounds, 'bout to shut you bitches down
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| From the Manor in that K-Town, I say it’s too late now
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| For you niggas that hate now, better stay out my way now
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| Before you end up facedown
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| You motherfuckers don’t know a thang about me
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| I roll wit' G’s from Cabrini down to the Ida B’s
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| Lakeside, 9-Tre, the Long City
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| Wild Hundreds got love for that nigga Nitty
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| Give me room when my adrenaline rushing
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| Cause if I go in that trunk, you know I’m 'bout to start dumping
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| You hear the cries as the bullets fly by
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| And in the end that motherfucker died
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| Feel the heat from our gunfire, can you see us coming
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| Making niggas running, wild and heartless and we steady gunning
|
| Don’t fuck with a legit baller, don’t cut your ass
|
| Come up out the trunk so fast
|
| Y’all will get murdered when the pump go blast
|
| Set this bitch on fire, when we roll on chrome
|
| Smokin' blow in the zone
|
| Kicking up more shit than a broken bone
|
| Don’t fuck with a legit baller, steady stackin' money
|
| Gettin' down and dirty, try to come at the mob and get your body bloody
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| Hungry, I was lookin' for the fetti', ready
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| With the mental that was heavy, now her niggas ain’t ready
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| Fuck the Navigator, we was filling holes in that 87' Chevy
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| Sitting on thirty-thirties
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| Selling leaf and syrup on the corner trying to stir this
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| Had a strap with the handle that was pearly
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| Up early, (?)
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| Know the game don’t scare me, competition better flury or get buried
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| Either scuffle or scurry, brother hunt the word down
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| If you want a piece better hurry
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| Got off our knees and putting arrows on our tip
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| But there’s really no need for you to say we ain’t shit
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| Got up the cheese by telling motherfuckers freeze, and run in their cribs
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| Now we like to ball legit
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| Got to get up off the gold and the dick
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| Roll with a clique of hustlers thats strugglin'
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| Pistol bustin' and mean muggin'
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| Get up out the way my armored heavy family huntin'
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| Cause ain’t nothin' gonna stop us from rollin'
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| Rap flow and the strap holdin', tired of feeling like I’m closed in
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| In the back, roll in on my ass when we got going
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| Out the back door like smoking
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| And tripping on the brink of success or failure
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| Momma, I can’t call when I’m caught in the thin line
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| And it’s kinda hard to tell ya'
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| But on the blood of my city, I’m a' keep crawling up the barbed wire
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| Hold your guns higher, cause ain’t none higher
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| Feel the heat from our gunfire, can you see us coming
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| Making niggas running, wild and heartless and we steady gunning
|
| Don’t fuck with a legit baller, don’t cut your ass
|
| Come up out the trunk so fast
|
| Y’all will get murdered when the pump go blast
|
| Set this bitch on fire, when we roll on chrome
|
| Smokin' blow in the zone
|
| Kicking up more shit than a broken bone
|
| Don’t fuck with a legit baller, steady stacking bread
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| And be ready for the armageddon
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| Try to come at the mob and get your body deadened |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Legit Ballaz, artist - Twista. Album song Twista Presents New Testament 2K: Street Scriptures, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп