Red Cafe - Keep Ballin lyrics
[Red Cafe - Keep Ballin lyrics]
It's ya birthday, yeah
Happy birthday, what else? It's ya birthday
Believe that, Shakedown
More champagne, please, more sour by the oz
More bad bitches, you better let 'em through
This the party of the year
I've been tellin' you, Shakedown
Money spenders, vintage 'lo sweaters
Brooklyn niggas, well known go-getters
Good wine, and Louie luggage
Corporate dimes love it
How the mafia thug it i mean
I'm reportin' from the hood, miss
No Oprah money
But guess what I'm hood rich, believe that
Chi-town, fuck with ya guy a lot now
I'm the skipper, so I'm fuckin' on the yacht
Aaowww killin' 'em since '02
Sendin' work down south, call it soul food
Come to my city
And hell yeah, I be the go to
Boss up on those hoes like I'm supposed to
Yeah me and Diddy, worldwide tourin'
So now y'all know why my designer's foreign
If the haters wan' hate, let the haters hate
But, if they wan' get some money
Sell them hater's weight
Ball hard like D rose
And you bustas stop payin' for them free hoes
Fuckin the game up
Too much bakin' soda, fuckin' the 'caine up
Make a nigga wanna go dump my chamber
Brrraaah, take that bitch in the streets
I make the money do back flips
Wallah, I'm just livin' that Miami life
4, 5, 6, my kind of dice fuck on them broads
They come back like good coke
That's my West coast bitch
She got good throat
Huh, I feel like I got wings on
All the hottest models say they
Got me on their ringtone
And I just keep it thorough, yeah
So the hood fuck with me
Keep ballin', ballin', ballin'
And I just keep it thorough, yeah
So the hood fuck with me
Keep ballin', ballin', ballin'
Happy birthday, what else? It's ya birthday
Believe that, Shakedown
More champagne, please, more sour by the oz
More bad bitches, you better let 'em through
This the party of the year
I've been tellin' you, Shakedown
Money spenders, vintage 'lo sweaters
Brooklyn niggas, well known go-getters
Good wine, and Louie luggage
Corporate dimes love it
How the mafia thug it i mean
I'm reportin' from the hood, miss
No Oprah money
But guess what I'm hood rich, believe that
Chi-town, fuck with ya guy a lot now
I'm the skipper, so I'm fuckin' on the yacht
Aaowww killin' 'em since '02
Sendin' work down south, call it soul food
Come to my city
And hell yeah, I be the go to
Boss up on those hoes like I'm supposed to
Yeah me and Diddy, worldwide tourin'
So now y'all know why my designer's foreign
If the haters wan' hate, let the haters hate
But, if they wan' get some money
Sell them hater's weight
Ball hard like D rose
And you bustas stop payin' for them free hoes
Fuckin the game up
Too much bakin' soda, fuckin' the 'caine up
Make a nigga wanna go dump my chamber
Brrraaah, take that bitch in the streets
I make the money do back flips
Wallah, I'm just livin' that Miami life
4, 5, 6, my kind of dice fuck on them broads
They come back like good coke
That's my West coast bitch
She got good throat
Huh, I feel like I got wings on
All the hottest models say they
Got me on their ringtone
And I just keep it thorough, yeah
So the hood fuck with me
Keep ballin', ballin', ballin'
And I just keep it thorough, yeah
So the hood fuck with me
Keep ballin', ballin', ballin'