D-Gotti - Ball Caps & Tennis Shoes lyrics

(*talking*) Ahhh, it's ball caps (yeah) Tennis shoes (tennis shoes) Y'all feel that (yeah-a-a-yeah) Know what I'm talking bout [D-Gotti] Now as I floss through the club, in my FUBU gear Zero-5 on my chest, it's going down in here Mink coats off the hook, make the boppers stop and look Dusty hoes get shook, thoed ones get took Feeling like a crook, with my hat to the back Same color Air Max, bout to snatch me a pack Sipping on Cognac, spectators get blinded Words out they mouth, that D-Gotti been grinding He shining, underline him as a ghetto prince Dining on lobster and shrimp, and show baguettes when he grin Set trends through tight shirts, and slacks don't match It's bout jersey, caps and tennis shoes and my CM hat And see I always, do what I wanna do (do what I wanna do) I'm playa made, so I'm ball caps and tennis shoes [Noke D] Sho nuff, see it was 1:45, when I pulled in the lot 19's on chrome, with the sun-roof pop Boppers watch as I step down, like a thug you know Almost gave a n***a hell, when I got to the do' Talking bout no tennis shoes, or no ball caps allowed But I paid about three hundred for my thug attire Now I paid 150, for the damn Air Max And uh 125, for the jersey to match And 75 bucks, for FUBU shorts with cuffs And if that ain't enough, then you hoes can s** a n***a nuts See I'm a real true G, and you crazy If you won't let me in your club, then you'll pay me To do your show, and you gon know That it's about five deep for Noke, Gotti and E So whoever at the do', show your partna some love Instead of letting these ho a** scrubs, off up in your club True thugs get back rubs, in the VIP Sipping bar with s**y broads, lap dancing for free [Chorus: Ronnie Spencer] Ball caps, and tennis shoes y'all That's a hustler's attire When he on the move, yeah-hey Ball caps, and tennis shoes y'all I got the new Air Max, jersey to match Ball up in the club, with my hat to the back [E.S.G.] I valeted the V-12, can't you tell I'm on fire VIP through the club, with my thugged out attire Live wire, ladies show, when I unbu*ton Meca Khaki's creased platinum piece, touch the tip of my baretta Southside trend setter, nobody does it better And I did it cap fitted, to the back on leather No matter the weather, this how real hustle work Boy you gets no play, with that gay muscle shirt I'm up under her skirt, I'm finger f**ing with my diamonds Love them old school J's, but Air Max be the finest Man I'm shining and grinding, and I know you hoes see Ball caps and tennis shoes, copped the blues at Phoenix Even though a n***a thoed, got stopped at the do' Turned around and called the damn security guard a ho Before he called 5-0, slammed the do' on the Gator On my way to Mecca Mecca, putting it down with major playas [Chorus: Ronnie Spencer - 2x] (Ronnie Spencer) Yeah, we ball till we fall Noke D, E.S.G. and D-Gotti Wreckshop Family