Shawnna - Ballers lyrics

[Intro: Shawnna] Yo Yo, yup, yo, yup Shawnna, yup, ay [Shawnna] Shawnna got a 'llac, sittin' on tre Shawnna don't need no n***a I'm paid Shawnna got stacks, Shawnna got grip Shawnna got dap so you better not slip I'm posted on the block, my girls take control This cafe Patron got me sippin real slow I'm lookin like a star, ice on my neck Ice on my wrist, ice on my chest You might want to flirt, but I ain't on that I'm way f**ed up, I'm way to' back And I don't give a f**, I got it like that They took a n***a deuce, I got it right back And now they like "Damn!" Now they like "Amazin!" Tondra rolled four, five blunts and we blazin Look at shawty gazin, he lookin like he want me I'm sorry lil' daddy, I'm tryin to get your homie [Chorus: Gucci Mane] (Lames can't call her) Lames cain't call her (All she date is ballers) She only date ballers (Shawty got a fetish) For boys who go get it (Squares can't call her) So the squares cain't call her (Lames can't call her) Lames cain't call her (All she date is ballers) She only date ballers (Shawty got a fetish) For boys who go get it (She only date ballers) It's Miss Shawnna [Gucci Mane] I'm Gucci Mane La Flare, I'm MVP I know your baby momma real proud of me The Benz line say they get tired of me I'm young kush man I sell nuttin but QP's Shawnna so fine, Gucci Mane I'm good She's so pretty but still so hood Hey little darlin, how you shawty? I'm so mall-less I can't call it I'm so Southern, you so Northern We so crack rock, they so corny It's 2:30, early in mornin The way I cook a brick it's like I'm doing a performance All eyes on we, homegirl want me Zay he on the track, so the track real funky Pants Red Monkey, Gucci go donkey n***as play crazy, get left stanky [Chorus] [Shawnna] Yo, yo, ay, Shawnna I wrote the verse three, for b**hes in the hood My Air One b**hes, smokin on the good Sittin on the po'ch, sippin on the 'gnac Or posted in the parkin lot sittin on the 'llac Them b**hes got weight, them b**hes got work Them b**hes wanna trip, them b**hes gettin murked And stick 'em in the dirt, and go on 'bout our bid'ness And it ain't nuttin personal it's all about the figures It's M.O.E., 'til a b**h a dead And I don't give a f** about what a b**h said I'm still gettin money, I'm still gettin rich I'm still that woman that'll take yo' dick And yeah the truth hurts, you still gotta face it I spent your whole deal on my ring and my bracelet It's top notch twat, cream of the crop I'm beatin down your block and let them choppers chop Chop, chop, chop, chop... {*fades*} [Chorus] [Outro] Geah~! {*3X*}