Ball Game Songtext
von Smoke DZA

Ah, right, child of the ghetto, nobody explained to me
I learned from the streets no picture was painted for me
This niggas is frosty not what they claiming to be
Got my 9 11 niggas with me, they craving for beef
Let the chopper sing to them like Frankie Sinatra
High-school nigga probably got shelved in a locker
This for my niggas up top getting ready for lock up
This rap niggas weak, x em out like a pop up
Known for making movies, give them an Oscar
Fucking low junkie, part reason why they stock up
Whole hood through the show, spending cake to watch us
Come home to you kush God on the knockers
Ah, you fucking right, just another day another hard laying night
These fucking weirdoes, these niggas ain′t bright
Playing around with DZA ball game, right
I'm on my way, real on cake
Won′t stop grinding till my crew all straight
I do my dude don't make me loose my cool
Knock them out the park
What you wanna do niggas, it's ball game That′s a ball game chump, ah
Ball game, nigga, the ball game′s done, right
In every inning sure your career's ending
You niggas ain′t winning, really you're short winded
The bases is loaded you ever notice
Your spot in your game was took, as I look at your team choking
Sore losers never can play us, a chin bruiser
Send shooters on your block scurting off on a scooter
I′m raising my stock with every hit record
Look at my record
, Your status will drop soon as they message we in the session
Minor league coaches we feed them bitches to vultures, you posing as a poser
We post your death on a poster
Your highlight is getting closer, to stardom we never start em
We starve em and tire mark em, in the dust so you can watch em
In God trust, I'm probably tied up with a cheerleader
Just your luck you fucked around and let a quire lead ya
Time′s up, you play softer than Damien
We aim it at your cranium and leave fragments over the stadium