lirik lagu ball players – shittyboyz
[part i]
[verse 1: babytron]
throw back to backwoods, it’s even opps in the raw paper (f*ck)
state to state tourin’, sh*t, i’m feelin’ like a ball player
fourth quarter, i’ll get you dropped like a jawbreaker
for a hundred, i’ll get you blue like a ben frank’ (a blue hundred? come on now)
pocket full of dead presis, walk around, feelin’ like larenz tate
i need to get up out the mall, i got the urge to spend pape’
[verse 2: trdee & babytron]
i’m scr*pin’ the bottom, arm in it, look like vince carter
how the f*ck you can’t tell who winnin’? b*tch, look harder
she call mе, “daddy,” her daddy think he got a good daughter
stop thе cappin’, you not plugged in like a loose charger
in the bahamas, smokin’ opps with a brazilian model
i know you sick as f*ck, your money short like h*rnswoggle
baby hit me with that head that made my legs wobble
he made it to the spital but was dead on arrival (sh*t)
[verse 3: babytron & trdee]
pots and pans ain’t for me
i was on the ‘gram, blockin’ hams, makin’ cheese (brrt)
you was in the field, but now you not, drew brees
this my first time in this b*tch, man, i gotta speed
[part ii]
[verse 1: babytron & trdee]
why he playin’? we’ll tie him up and blindfold him
(man, we’ll pop the trunk on his ass, why he playin’?)
when i seen my first band, that sh*t was mind*blowin’
(would’ve thought i seen beyoncé, n*gga, what?)
trey or better crew, we ain’t deuce, we ain’t line pourin’
hit him in his top, i heard them n*ggas left his mind showin’
so*so, so what you got? a bl!cky, you gon’ totin’
crack*crack, crack this b*tch just like a joke, but i ain’t seth rogen
[verse 2: babytron]
i’m in here, poppin’ v cuts like they ibuprofen (ps)
double*cup and the blunt, both highly potent
lil’ tron was off the acky, now it’s quagen
lil’ tron ain’t understand, but now i’m patient
leveled up, ain’t sittin’ at the same spot
how i work my wrist the vs, this could make ‘caine lot
catch him at the plaza, catch a brain shot at gamestop
[verse 3: trdee]
slid on his block with that drac’, made his bed rock (fah, fah, fah)
chain dancin’ like odell in the endzone (dancin’)
man, you might not leave with her, take yo’ b*tch home (ha)
i thought he was tough, but he folded like a flip phone
‘vette ain’t got no roof, i’m downtown, outside of fishbone
he don’t even see me, tlc, i’m tryna creep behind
shooter put his sh*t all on the glass, was tryna see his mind
[verse 4: babytron & trdee]
road trippin’, i’ma be in traffic from like three to five
high as h*ll, tryna spend the bag, but i don’t see my size
plymouth and auburn, strapped up, this the wild west
i was rappin’ ’bout that one sh*t, i should’ve filed less (swear)
i just got the arp, i’m comin’ rifle next (brr)
i’m so motherf*ckin’ high, can’t tell my right from left (sheesh)
i’m so high, in the hills, it look like gta
finna take off, hurry up, what’s your eta?
gang members only, most you n*ggas really do be fake (sh*ttyboyz)
froze up like he was starstruck when he seen the drac’
b*tch, grrt, sh*ttyboyz
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