Correction Lyrics I Just Want to Ball by Larry June

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Lyrics

Yeah
Check it out
Turn me up
Good job, Killa
Killa
Numbers
Yeah
Yeah

I just want to ball on you n***as and get hella stacks
Bad b*t*h on my line, I’ma f**k her, never call her back
I can’t even lie, if the pu**y’s good, I’ll have her run it back
The way I’m thumbin’ through the racks
Show you how I’m runnin’ through the packs
I just want to ball on you n***as and get hella stacks
Bad b*t*h on my line, I’ma f**k her, never call her back
I can’t even lie, if the pu**y’s good, I’ll have her run it back
The way I’m thumbin’ through the racks
Show you how I’m runnin’ through the packs

I’m swervin’ in and out of lanes
With my d**k stuffed down this model’s throat
My chain’s a kilo, you got a 10-karat hollow rope
It’s twenty on my left wrist, thirty more up on this big chain
Watch me baptize the flooded-out Rollie in expensive champagne
I’m thankful for the cold nights, I ain’t have it like I do now
Seattle lights reflectin’ off my porch when I slide through town
It’s seven on my Forgi’s, 9020 for the feet
I’m with a pretty b*t*h that’s foreign
And she gon’ suck me ‘til I’m sleep
I knock a b*t*h and f**k her once, I’ll probably never call her back
Unless she’s ‘bout her money bags
Then, I’ll take that b*t*h across the map
Picked the phone up and hit my cousin Larry like
“n***a, where you at?”
He said, “I’m out in San Francisco with a chick and checkin’ trap”
My new foreign came with all the options
Got all these n***as’ b*t*hes watchin’
My old b*t*h said she love me, but I did the hoe like Tristan Thompson
I hopped up out the whip in Givenchy with the Fendi mix
Free my n***a C
You better cuff her if you love that b*t*h
It’s Killa

I just want to ball on you n***as and get hella stacks
Bad b*t*h on my line, I’ma f**k her, never call her back
I can’t even lie, if the pu**y’s good, I’ll have her run it back
The way I’m thumbin’ through the racks
Show you how I’m runnin’ through the packs
I just want to ball on you n***as and get hella stacks
Bad b*t*h on my line, I’ma f**k her, never call her back
I can’t even lie, if the pu**y’s good, I’ll have her run it back
The way I’m thumbin’ through the racks
Show you how I’m runnin’ through the packs

Still havin’ plenty of it, so much, I’m like f**k a trap
So much clarity in my watch, I could’ve bought a Jag-
Handmade cashmere sweater, the trap goin’ ham
Chillin’ on the beach with my b*t*h, I just love the sand
Eighty-dollar candles in my house, that’s playa sh*t
Turned down five-hunid-thousand, on some label sh*t
A driver just to take me up the street, on some lazy sh*t
House out the way – where the safe sit
I don’t rap much, I just paint sh*t
Picture so vivid, lost my voice in Miami jet-skiin’ with these b*t*hes
All about elevation, get them snakes out your circle
‘Cause the ones most close be the ones that’ll hurt you

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