| I wanna be, a baller please
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| But the bitches and the liquor, keep on calling me
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| I wonder if I’m blessed, cause I’m still here
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| And I wonder if heaven’s any different, cause in hell the blood spill hits
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| Got a nigga, fiending for his last breath
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| Too many of my partnas beneath me, because a bitch made nigga blasted
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| Too many features in songs, tell me why I ain’t got no home
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| Penitentiary grown, cause I roam with a pocket full of stones
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| I wanna live my life, but my life ain’t worth the living
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| Cause while I’m dreaming about a Benz, even a houpe ain’t driven
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| Headed for prison, but mama I’m alright with that
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| Strapped down with a shank in my tank, hit niggas all night with that
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| And it ain’t no love left, fuck all of my foes and friends
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| Motherfuckers don’t fuck with Ro, unless that nigga be rolling in ends
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| I need to wake up, instead of day dreaming about holding a slab
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| Like being in love with a woman, that you could never have
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| Witness the feeling punished by pain, looking for shelter from the rain
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| People like W double O-D, I’m going against the grain
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| Hey to my niggas in Ridgemont 4, y’all can kiss my ass
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| Anybody who ever said they was down with me, can kiss my ass
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| I done dumped on motherfuckers, what they gon do for me
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| Out of town on stage, nobody from the hood in the crowd to root for me
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| Suppose to be my people, but I think my people is the devil
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| Fuck my peers, cause I’m on another level
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| On my knees, screaming Jesus can you save me
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| My shit’s so fucked up, I wonder if you thought about me lately
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| And it hurt so deep a nigga can’t sleep, making me late night creep
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| Suicidal thoughts I think I’m ready, plus it’s fucking with me
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| Would I be missed by these bitch niggas, these fakes and frauds
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| Fiending for baby, cause she know she got my heart
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| Even though it’s torn apart, it’s pumping out nothing but love for you
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| And to my niggas keep your disses, I got slugs for you
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| I shed blood for you, but I’m not appreciated
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| The only nigga, that never hesitated
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| And it ain’t more, hollering out my roll dog’s name on tape
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| Unless it’s fuck you, and in front of it followed up by a K
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| No more, hollering out my roll dog’s name on tape
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| Unless it’s fuck you, and in front of it followed up by a K bitch
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| Balling out of control, sitting swoll on 4's
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| Paint so wet, that my clothes stick to the do'
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| Oh no, it’s Big T
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| Million dollar hook nigga, come see me
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| On a muddy cup, man hol' up
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| And if your bitch choose, then you shit out of luck
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| I’ma send her ass home, broke and well fucked
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| And she kinda walk funny, cause the bitch was well stuck
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| When I ain’t have shit, y’all boys talk down
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| Like you didn’t know T, everytime I came around
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| Now when you hear me, I’ma put you on stall
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| And don’t say nothing, when you see me in the mall
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| I gotta get my cash, in these H-Town streets
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| Presidential Records, and your boy Big T
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| I know I gotta get it, cause I wanna be a baller please
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| But the bitches and the liquor, keep on calling me yeah |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Baller Please , by - Z-Ro. Song from the album 1-Deep, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп