Correction Paroles I Just Want to Ball par Larry June

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Paroles

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

clip

Ton pseudo sera publié. Laisses les champs vide pour rester anonyme.