Rapper`s Ball lyrics

Artist  : E 40 
Song : Rapper`s Ball



 Send "Rapper`s Ball" Ringtone to your Cell 

 

featuring Too $hort K Ci

Where them naked
hoes at?

E Feezey!
Too Scheezy!
We
off the heezy fo'scheezy baby!
Off the heezy I
thought you theezy!!
Niggaz ain't havin no
cheesy like us main!
They ain't havin no
raveez!
Shit.
Haha you know us.
Where K
Ceeezi at man? Tell him sing that shit.
Lace
dem fools or something.
Beotch!

Chorus:
K Ci

Say that you got it all
Love the
way you players ball
Everyday you're at the
mall
Tell me is it true or false
Say that
you got it all
Love the way you players
ball
Claimin that your mail is tall
Tell me
is it true or false

Verse One: E-40, Too
$hort

I put my mack hand down ain't never
been asound
I was havin b-r-e-a-d way before
this rap game nigga been town
Thought you
theezy, for sheezy, niggaz 'member
Earl, Brat,
and Denell dem boys from Vallel
At every light
it's automatic, BURN RUBBER
See my folkers in
the traffic, WHASSUP ERB
Follow that cab it
got dope in it, uhh
My potnah $hort got hoes
in it

I'm always hearin rappers big ballin
on they songs
I do that shit for real and
you'll never say I'm wrong
S-500 straight
sittin on twenties
TV in the dash pimpin hoes
gettin money
I'm Too $hort baby been down
since the eighties
For the last eight years
rode around in a Mercedes
Lexus, trucks,
drop-Vette, Caddy
Bitches don't call me by my
name they call me
daddy

Chorus

Verse Two: E-40, Too
$hort

K-Ci $hort E-40 Fonzarelli
I'll
probably never have long money like Ross
Perilli
But shit we just want a hip
Don't
want the whole plate
Don't put the two on the
ten, don't ever perpetrate
Like a lot of these
fools I see on TV
With the Armani Chanel Versus
Versacci
Why motherfuckers can't be broke
sometimes?
Sometimes it's cool to floss
But
don't buy an eighty-five thousand dollar
car
Before you buy a house

They always
said I couldn't rap, I just say bitch
I guess
the bitch, made me rich
And now you wanna call
me hardcore
While I be steppin out the shower
on a marble floor
I paid the IRS taxes send
FedEx and faxes
This industry'll is like
fuckin, fat bitches
All work and no play, I do
it everyday
anyway cuz I gotta stay paid
40

Chorus

Verse Three: E-40, Too
$hort

We throw parties on big-ass boats,
niggaz wrap they paper
Ultrafied all-inclusive
trips, Montego Jamaica
Front row seats at the
Ultimate Fights, shamrock and severin
Long
expensive fuh-flights, up dere in the
heavens
Fat ass royalty checks, fat ass
cribs
Smokin blunts and drinkin brew on the
blacony, barbecuin ribs
The more scrilla, the
merrier
I represent the Ya area

I walk
from Foothill and Paperscourt to Sixty-Seven
MacArthur
To Freddie B house to make tapes
with my potnah
Hit Arroyo Park, we had tapes
for sale
Got a paper bag full of that, can't
you tell
it's funky, everybody nod they head
like this
I said bitch, and everybody read my
lips
I got rich, suckin up the game from the
O
and even though a lot of rappers got the
same kind of flow
I survived cuz I got mo',
game than them
It came straight from the
prostitutes, players, and pimps
It was my
destiny, I came the same every time
So don't
question me, I transfer the game in the
rhymes

I'm not a freestyler, don't rap for
free main
It's Paystyle on mine, cuz I love
money main
Landrovers and Toyota,
Lexuses
Six-hundred feet twelve with them big
ass motor Mercedeses
We don't be savin hoes,
bitches be savin us
Bitch disrespect me in my
car, bitch best to catch the bus
I keep a
briefcase full of game, while y'all be
ear-hustlin
Ain't no paperback pimpin nigga,
we ain't strugglin

Chorus

Verse
Four: Too $hort

I'm Shorty the Pimp, I
come funky
Again and again, they say when will
it end?
Maybe never, cause I can still spit
it
But I ain't rappin for cheese, I want meal
tickets
Gotta start somewhere, and I'm past
that
For the right scratch, I be the last
mack
So stick yaself Pretty Tony
You tryin
ta make a hit, but your shit sounds phony
Not
like AT&T but like ET
You can't be me, so
would you please see
If you can keep my name
out your mouth
Cause you don't really know
what the game's all about
It's bout feedin the
family, not freakin in the Benz
Instead of
rentin, pay for that roof on your head
And
stop pimpin in your mind knowin you a
trick
Put your hustle down playa go an hit you
a lick
Bitch!

(That's writ, Too Scheezi,
Ant Banks, Forty Fonzarelli, K-Ci)
Damn is that
right?
(That's right)