Gucci Mane - Ballers Lyrics
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    Ballers

    [Intro: Shawnna]
    Yo
    Yo, yup, yo, yup
    Shawnna, yup, ay

    [Shawnna]
    Shawnna got a 'llac, sittin' on tre
    Shawnna don't need no nigga I'm paid
    Shawnna got stacks, Shawnna got grip
    Shawnna got dap so you better not slip
    I'm posted on the block, my girls take control
    This cafe Patron got me sippin real slow
    I'm lookin like a star, ice on my neck
    Ice on my wrist, ice on my chest
    You might want to flirt, but I ain't on that
    I'm way fucked up, I'm way to' back
    And I don't give a fuck, I got it like that
    They took a nigga deuce, I got it right back
    And now they like "Damn!" Now they like "Amazin!"
    Tondra rolled four, five blunts and we blazin
    Look at shawty gazin, he lookin like he want me
    I'm sorry lil' daddy, I'm tryin to get your homie

    [Chorus: Gucci Mane]
    (Lames can't call her) Lames cain't call her
    (All she date is ballers) She only date ballers
    (Shawty got a fetish) For boys who go get it
    (Squares can't call her) So the squares cain't call her
    (Lames can't call her) Lames cain't call her
    (All she date is ballers) She only date ballers
    (Shawty got a fetish) For boys who go get it
    (She only date ballers) It's Miss Shawnna

    [Gucci Mane]
    I'm Gucci Mane La Flare, I'm MVP
    I know your baby momma real proud of me
    The Benz line say they get tired of me
    I'm young kush man I sell nuttin but QP's
    Shawnna so fine, Gucci Mane I'm good
    She's so pretty but still so hood
    Hey little darlin, how you shawty?
    I'm so mall-less I can't call it
    I'm so Southern, you so Northern
    We so crack rock, they so corny
    It's 2:30, early in mornin
    The way I cook a brick it's like I'm doing a performance
    All eyes on we, homegirl want me
    Zay he on the track, so the track real funky
    Pants Red Monkey, Gucci go donkey
    Niggas play crazy, get left stanky

    [Chorus]

    [Shawnna]
    Yo, yo, ay, Shawnna
    I wrote the verse three, for bitches in the hood
    My Air One bitches, smokin on the good
    Sittin on the po'ch, sippin on the 'gnac
    Or posted in the parkin lot sittin on the 'llac
    Them bitches got weight, them bitches got work
    Them bitches wanna trip, them bitches gettin murked
    And stick 'em in the dirt, and go on 'bout our bid'ness
    And it ain't nuttin personal it's all about the figures
    It's M.O.E., 'til a bitch a dead
    And I don't give a fuck about what a bitch said
    I'm still gettin money, I'm still gettin rich
    I'm still that woman that'll take yo' dick
    And yeah the truth hurts, you still gotta face it
    I spent your whole deal on my ring and my bracelet
    It's top notch twat, cream of the crop
    I'm beatin down your block and let them choppers chop
    Chop, chop, chop, chop... {*fades*}

    [Chorus]

    [Outro]
    Geah~! {*3X*}

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