Young Thug, Gunna - Player's Ball lyrics

Yeah yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, ayy

I came a long way from projects
To jumpin' off private jets
And on my neck baguettes (yeah)
She lookin' at me like, "You next"
She tryna eat me up
Just like a damn T-Rex (Huh)
Okay, this baddie tried to fuck me
The same night I met her
I told the bitch, "Do better"
Yeah, I tote them diamonds in my bezels
They come in all type colors
Just like a Gucci sweatеr (yeah, yeah)

Peppеrmint it, red and white diamonds, yeah
Inside the coupe came red just like Elmo, uh
Scarecrow, leave you fly as hell, yeah, cro'
Uh velcro sandals, yeah, might as well cro'
Shell toes, yeah, ho
Fed hoes got me talkin' with my SLATT code
Fuck what I did, don't give away my cat
Hold out summer time we bring them hoes out
Billy Kimber, OG smokin' motherfucker
Fuck around and let me find out you
Said somethin' else to my brother
Can't keep sayin' I go YoungBoy
With this motherfuckin' cutter, yeah
And we slimy and grimy like no other, yeah
Gang not off tracks, bring me that cat
Triple coated, she done tattooed over her tat
Cubic zirconia the reason she cannot be brat
Yeah she ain't strong, ain't got no
Back, she ain't black, yeah
This one got too many hips
Had to send her back, yeah
Candy coated Rolls Royce symbol in the back
Ha nigga actin' itchy with you
He get scratched, ha
I came from nothin', I got big racks, ha

I came a long way from projects
To jumpin' off private jets
And on my neck baguettes (yeah)
She lookin' at me like, "You next"
She tryna eat me up
Just like a damn T-Rex (Huh)
Okay, this baddie tried to fuck me
The same night I met her
I told the bitch, "Do better"
Yeah, I tote them diamonds in my bezels
They come in all type colors
Just like a Gucci sweater (yeah, yeah)

Slidin' down Rodeo just passin' Hermes
Saw a baddie with a Birkin with
Her hair down her ass
Parked the car stoppin' traffic
I can't let this one pass
Snipe her eyes and quickly tell this bitch
"Use the class" the foreign roof I blast
I can screen touch the dash
Low key I ain't puttin' that shit on blast
Let my bitch poppin' brat
All your life you fuck with peasants
Put that shit in the past
Till you met me now you got a
Preference they can’t even be mad
I got two hundred on my neck
Seventy on my right
Just one-fifty on my left, yeah
Baguettes on my latest bitch
Troup cleaned up and polished, we rock solid
Can't finagle it
Remember serve at the palace with
A BP was my favorite
Feel like perfect timin', fly to an island
We just kickin' shit
Even when I wasn't rich
Young Gunna wasn't the type to penny pinch
Said I was illiterate now you
Can't reap the benefit's
Rollin' in my Cullinan
My double R mean really rich

I came a long way from projects
To jumpin' off private jets
And on my neck baguettes (yeah)
She lookin' at me like, "You next"
She tryna eat me up
Just like a damn T-Rex (Huh)
Okay, this baddie tried to fuck me
The same night I met her
I told the bitch, "Do better"
Yeah, I tote them diamonds in my bezels
They come in all type colors
Just like a Gucci sweater (yeah, yeah)

(Run that back, Turbo)