Meek Mill, AR-AB - Playing Ball lyrics
Meek Mill [Robert Rihmeek Williams] Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Meek Mill, AR-AB - Playing Ball lyrics]
Aye look, go and get ya motha fuckin'
Scale and bag after this
I'm on that backblock
I'm trynna get it all
It's money out chea, I'm trynna get it all
My nigga got that neck
I tell 'em send it off
Twenty a the joint? Ok we playing ball
Heater in my tire, crack up in my draws
Watching out for Shamrock?
He trynna get us all
They want cases up, they trynna send us off
Head me upstate, working all up out the yard
Taskforce Tuesday
Watch out where the cars at
Tell my youngin watch out
For the molly, booze, and
Taskforce swinging through the jungle
Like they Tarzan slowing down
Staring at me like they see the market
I pulled out the stack pack
Trynna bring a stack back
Break it down, headed up
Run through it like a
Flip it once, flip it twice
Then put it where my stash at
Tipee say he got a lick and
I say where the cash at
And I'mma bring my ladder out of storage
Where my men at
He say he got twenty keys and
We gonna go and grab that
Interception, that's a touchdown
We was fucked up, but we up now
They say money make the world spin
I'm at the Louis store
Spending like a whirlwind
Put ya AR crying about a girlfriend
I'd rather get the Pyrex and drop girl in
I get straight to the pussy, no foreplay
I was sitting in jail for a short stay
Let a nigga show up on court day
I'mma show 'em the moon in broad day
AK, street sweep, no dustpan
Cut grams, play the corner like the cut man
I left school and used to
Hang in the hooky house
I dropped powder in water and
Pulled a cookie out
Big money, gotta account for three days
White girl, I make her drop like D wade
Purp wind, Sour D or the P Haze
I had a girl telling me I got three legs
The way we got them pies in
Nothing with this grinding
Take it to the kitchen
Find a flame and get to frying
Grab the sixty-two
Got a point they grip the nine
Scratch my head
Look at my man like yo we grinding
Used to play the crib
Now we block it like a line
Raised from the street where them
Coppers wait in line
My boys ain't doing great
But they doing kinda fine
They or they ain't
Never stuck up in the line man
Heard about them niggas
How they sing like Frankie Lineman
Crying like my bitches
Used to nickel now I dime shit
Niggas want me fail like
The prison system jail
When we vision all whipping all
Till I'm in a cell i got niggas pushing Ls
Cause a nigga took an L
On the pill, hope he win
Come home bringing hell
Get the orders from the kitchen then
I sit it on the scale
Break it down, take the orders
Then we send it like it's mail
Scale and bag after this
I'm on that backblock
I'm trynna get it all
It's money out chea, I'm trynna get it all
My nigga got that neck
I tell 'em send it off
Twenty a the joint? Ok we playing ball
Heater in my tire, crack up in my draws
Watching out for Shamrock?
He trynna get us all
They want cases up, they trynna send us off
Head me upstate, working all up out the yard
Taskforce Tuesday
Watch out where the cars at
Tell my youngin watch out
For the molly, booze, and
Taskforce swinging through the jungle
Like they Tarzan slowing down
Staring at me like they see the market
I pulled out the stack pack
Trynna bring a stack back
Break it down, headed up
Run through it like a
Flip it once, flip it twice
Then put it where my stash at
Tipee say he got a lick and
I say where the cash at
And I'mma bring my ladder out of storage
Where my men at
He say he got twenty keys and
We gonna go and grab that
Interception, that's a touchdown
We was fucked up, but we up now
They say money make the world spin
I'm at the Louis store
Spending like a whirlwind
Put ya AR crying about a girlfriend
I'd rather get the Pyrex and drop girl in
I get straight to the pussy, no foreplay
I was sitting in jail for a short stay
Let a nigga show up on court day
I'mma show 'em the moon in broad day
AK, street sweep, no dustpan
Cut grams, play the corner like the cut man
I left school and used to
Hang in the hooky house
I dropped powder in water and
Pulled a cookie out
Big money, gotta account for three days
White girl, I make her drop like D wade
Purp wind, Sour D or the P Haze
I had a girl telling me I got three legs
The way we got them pies in
Nothing with this grinding
Take it to the kitchen
Find a flame and get to frying
Grab the sixty-two
Got a point they grip the nine
Scratch my head
Look at my man like yo we grinding
Used to play the crib
Now we block it like a line
Raised from the street where them
Coppers wait in line
My boys ain't doing great
But they doing kinda fine
They or they ain't
Never stuck up in the line man
Heard about them niggas
How they sing like Frankie Lineman
Crying like my bitches
Used to nickel now I dime shit
Niggas want me fail like
The prison system jail
When we vision all whipping all
Till I'm in a cell i got niggas pushing Ls
Cause a nigga took an L
On the pill, hope he win
Come home bringing hell
Get the orders from the kitchen then
I sit it on the scale
Break it down, take the orders
Then we send it like it's mail