Lyrics

[Chorus] You are not a baller if you hang from the sidelines How you say you're real hatin on another man's shine Yall believe the cap & not [?] on her mind Stackin in the winter in the summer imma shine Might just get a chain & just spell out my time Pull up on my skripper bitch & sip some red wine I been chasin paper man it been a mean grind But imma count these blue hunnids in the mean time [Verse 1] Nah, Ain't nothin like partna imma tip buddy Pocket full of blues on me like my crip buddy I remember back in school lunch time i dip buddy If a n**** act a fool you know we gone flip buddy I was higher than a kite trappin on my bike Dead fresh downtown Walter's get some white Nikes High beams diamonds on me shinin like some bright light Vanna White with the work man you know the Price is Right [Chorus] [Verse 2] Why you tryna count my pocket? Why they all in my wallet? I be juugin back to back it be hard to count the profit I be kickin shit lately give em somethin to talk about Like my lemon pepper crispy with my lemon pepper salt Real plugs see eye to eye he don't really like to talk He just pull up for 2 reasons: pickin up & droppin off All these n****s fake as fuck they be mad they ain't glad Lemme see you comin up get that bag