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Pushed in the game at a young age |
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Feel me touch me as I turn the page |
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A little past ten, roughly about |
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eleven years old TRAPPED IN A GHETTO CAGE |
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My scratch is smellin sour and it's stinkin |
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got a nigga seriously thinkin |
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"How can I kill this odor, and purchase me a Lincoln?" |
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Minimum wage flippin patties - nope |
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I'd rather fuck around with Coca-Cola, yola |
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Ice cream, candy, granola, huh |
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Slave for men - that's what they told me |
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and I'll break you off somethin suitable |
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Brought you a key of crack quicker than ? |
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? recoupable |
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? future black and beautiful |
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My partners used to be plucked and ugly |
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Hangin around them old squeegee boys |
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Man them the motherfuckers that have love for me |
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They straight cut for me |
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Deal me, touch me, L-O-V-E |
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E-to-the-F-to-the-R-T-Y |
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I spits the shit from the T-O-P |
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It's me, the E, droppin it nuclear all the time |
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Motherfucker comin from the motherfuckin MIND |
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Fuck you niggaz, you think I sell my soul |
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But I'm way too cold, motherfucker! |
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Chorus: LeVitti |
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Sittin in my livin room |
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Thinkin of, a master plan |
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Tryin to find a way out |
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HOW TO STACH the scratch |
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So I painted me a picture |
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of a life, to make a dream |
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Can you feel me now |
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Ballin outta control, ballin outta control |
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Fresh off the showroom flo', bought me a ninety-fo' |
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Now I'm havin long money, like Ross Perot, so take |
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notes from a big ol' ? pimp, pretty much established |
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Livin out of hand lavish |
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Throwin parties ? |
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with big time folks makin big time cabbage |
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Become a savage, get swoll by ones |
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Twenty a drum's established |
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Six figure digits, just like I tell you like |
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I got the whole city sewed up in stitches |
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Your product'll win if you gots top grade |
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Keep, your law-yers and your bail bondsmen paid |
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The word on the street's is that I done came up too fast |
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Motherfuckers want a piece of my soul |
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Playa haters wanna cut my grass |
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You don't wanna bring your bitch |
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to what type of ? out of control sittin on tickets |
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Million dollar spots, technology chops |
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and a motherfucker proud fool-assed ridiculous |
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Straight fuckin em up like that, throw me my strap man |
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? feel me |
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Reverend would you put some blessin oil on my head |
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and hear me |
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I never sell my soul cause I'm way too cold |
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Motherfucker! Ballin outta control |
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Interlud: LeVitti |
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This ol' game, kids they run |
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Never get a second chance |
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so take me to this world |
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Now there's always time, to getcha |
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I guess by now you get the picture |
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of what I'm tryin to say |
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I'm ballin outta control |
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"Niggaz trippin off me cause I was a young motherfucker ballin" |
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"Every other fuckin day I'm tellin my SOHABS OUGHTTA quit" |
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"Niggaz trippin off me cause I was a young motherfucker ballin" |
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"We can get it on, we can get it on" |
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"Niggaz trippin off me cause I was a young motherfucker ballin" |
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"Forty-Water, straight lettin em know" |
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"Even though my pocket's fat and my belly's bigger.. |
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gots to come Sic-Sic-Sic-Wid-It" |
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Throw, the WHOLE |
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UNIT in a big ass gumbo pot |
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Full stir |
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Let it settle to make it lock |
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Horse races, trips to Vegas, frequent flier |
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"Whassup you timah, when your ass gonna retire?" |
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I ain't knowin |
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Keep tellin myself that I'ma call it quits |
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But I got myself |
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Too much motherfuckin cabbage out there runnin in the streets |
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Lookin up out the way for the one-time |
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Po-Po Penelope seriously concentratin |
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Noided as I watch the back for all of my chemistry |
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cause fools be playa hatin |
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Lucrative spots and blows, investments bonds and stocks |
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Esquired land and crops, techno chops and glocks |
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Cause niggaz be tryin to make movies |
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when they get all in front of these bootch ass hoochies |
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I be like poppin the cap like a hungry mother |
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I ain't even gon' lie I'm to' |
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Twoasted, looped, to' back, souped |
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Plastered, puked, on the get back fully recouped |
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Fuck these niggaz they think I'll sell my soul |
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But I'm way too cold, motherfucker! |
