Terjemahan Lirik Lagu Lil' Troy - Wanna Be A Balla

Chorus: Hawk

Wanna be a — baller, shot caller

Twenty inch blades — on the Impala

A caller gettin laid tonight

Swisher rolled tight, gotta spray my ice

I hit the HIIIGHWAY, making money the FLYYYY WAY

But there’s got to be a BETT-ER WAYY!

A better way, better way, YEAH-AHHHH

I’ma — baller, I’ma twenty inch crawler

Blades on Impala, diamond rottweiller

Octane hauler, not a leader not follower

Break these boys off I’ma twenty inch crawler

Bust a left, a right, I’m outta sight I’m throwed

I’m bouncin off the road I’m in a modem with them foe dem

Tiny tune — hop out my big body form

Chain with the chong, can’t forget Moet along

I’m hot, find me lookin good, diamonds against my wood

Man it’s understood — got money in my hood

I’m pushing big body can’t stop me

For the nine-eight got to sell a million copy

I’ma crawl slow puffin on the Optimo hit the sto’

I’ma go real slow — puffin indo out the do’

I’ma lit the stash green, man I’m lookin clean

Want remote control screens with ice bezeltynes

Big ballin, smashin, makin my ends

Smokin big killa gettin high in the Benz

Big ballin, smashin, makin my ends

Smokin big killa gettin high in the Benz

In the wind smoke goes as I crawl down on Vogues

Twenty Lorenzo, smoke all up in my nose

Yo’ eyes, get froze, as you see my low

Candy-red, two-do’, let my top down slow

Hittin, my remote, sittin, in my shit

Presidential V-12 with that AMG kit

It don’t quit, as I get high

from K.C. to H-Town, connectin SouthSide

Now we worldwide, watch me highside

Fat Pat blowin killa, can’t be denied

187 thugs, oh yeah we got love

Blowin sticky green we flow through and above

Sittin’ Fat Down South, rollin Benz on blocks

Mo’ scrilla I got, signin with Shortstop

And that’s for real, so tell me how you feel

to make a million dollars out my first record deal

Shortstop — puttin up your motherfuckin ear

Really really don’t give a fuck and I ain’t drinkin on no beer

Codeine what I sip, pistol grip when I ride

Trunk hit fo’ life baby it’s SouthSide

We on a fuckin mission Expedition Navigator

That’s how we be ridin, alligator suitcasin

Puttin it in your face, and that’s for real

Shinin harder than the grill it’s the player Lil’ Will

Down with the 2-Low, Yungstar be a thug

So nigga nigga what?I’m down with my own thugs

Mo’ thugs in the pound, you know it’s goin down

Represent that H-Town, pop trunks surround by sound

I gots to get better man, it gots to move on

Switched from Motorola to a PrimeCo phone

Broke in two chrome, now you know no dope pigeon

Used to count my spoke, now these hoes count my inches

Had to get older — man it got colder

I done got grown and got a chip on my shoulder

Licks in Kuwait, got links in Pakistan

Boys don’t understand virtual reality Caravan

Double doors marble floors naked hoes around me

Everytime I’m comin out, niggaz they wanna sign me

Got the Lil’ Will diamond grillers ??

Blaze in the Benz and you can’t forget the den

The boo went down to Rueben’s, I’m watchin on a movie

Drop the top it’s cotton, and you know I’m in a jacuzzi

Bourban and I’m swervin, man it’s gettin hot

My last name Lemmon, drive my tight’um off the lot, David Taylor

I hit the highway

Everything’s my way, I par-le

Everyday all day, ain’t no way

Boys can’t stop as i slide through your neighborhood

Chop chop chop, headed straight to the top

I only play to win — bout to close up shop

Showstoppin dead end, pimp the pen once again

Peep the message I send

Take these levels that you devils can’t comprehend

Big bout it Benz — as I floss through the south

Big blue lens — now whatcha talkin about?

Close yo’ mouth — as I settle all scores

Scream and shout — my similes and metaphors

Mansion doors — I contstantly close

All you hoes — go and take off your clothes

Lord knows — ain’t no time to play

Commence to fuckin and-a suckin on the H A W K

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