The Cool Kids - Penny Hardaway lyrics

[Hook:] Them bally loafers's and them Cardiers I do my thing Penny Hardaway And if you're knowing where we're going Then you'll probably be coming with us! [x2] Friday night nice, Saturday sharp Edge upon the hairline, side tapered and ball Sunday winning in the linen shorts sent from the mall Pieces out the dry cleaning stitched seems and all And haters ain't ball but this is Cars hopin in them Mars bite the bishop and the palace like the Pistons Peep the way I flipped it The color on this one is like them other ones But these colors compliment it You might wanna catch that later alligator Maury I had another coming way before they made it Cordless phones on them like it's free activation For them homes you wouldend up in the lab for it Champion [?], wrap bills in jeans fabrics Since we spend [?] these ropes like tennis rackets Tennis braclets Andre Aga**i tennis shoes and jackets Cardier frames and bally's [Hook x2] I take my [?] out, slide them up the bridge of my nose Them Guccis cool, but they are not originals Those are like digital clocks Mind shots riddle the block 'till it moves up, [?] What a loop scooper troopers and khaki suit blazers And my braclets do a loop and my wrist like a race, Wait! We ain't say grace We at Shaw's Crab House Everybody got a lobster on their plate I get a nice [?], nice waves, wait a minute Slice gang, chop it up, slap chop, I'm saying! You can't know the roster without playin' I'm not Kevin Cosner I'm not dancing with no wolves Acting like they should, Peep the [?] Don hoping out that Jeep Man the ta**els on them Bally's, checkers on the Rally's Saying "I don't think they got it like in Cali" [Hook x2] In my years I sported igloos, Alaskan Ice The light bulbs in my j**els show off in the night So stay back, star's flow is toxic You can catch me in my rolls heavy [?] Photoshoots in the Sahara Desert Camels and Cardiers In the sky facing the half-moon crescent Wow, it looks beautiful The stars is praising me And The Cool Kids, say something wrong they'll shoot at you They shootin' stars these ruthless bars got white girls holding their mouths Like, "oh my God! No he didn't", give him a bib, cause he keeps spitting Lines that's so cold where every word's frost-bitten And his man's pulling up in the Maybach White linen, three quarter rope, bally's from way back With Cardier frames, white gold all around the rim Holding their dicks in the club, [?] [Hook x2]