Artist: Gucci Mane f/ Shawnna
Album:  Back to the Traphouse
Song:   Ballers
Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash

[Intro: Shawnna]
Yo
Yo, yup, yo, yup
Shawnna, yup, ay

[Shawnna]
Shawnna got a 'llac, sittin' on trey
Shawnna don't need no nigga 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 fucked up, I'm way to' back
And I don't give a fuck, I got it like that
They took a nigga 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, Laflare, 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 QB'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 cain'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 doin a performance
All eyes on we, homegirl want me
Zay he on the track, so the track real funky
Pants real monkey, Gucci go donkey
Niggaz play crazy, get left stanky

[Chorus]

[Shawnna]
Yo, yo, ay, Shawnna
I wrote the verse three, for bitches in the hood
My Air One bitches, smokin on the good
Sittin on the po'ch, sippin on the 'gnac
or posted in the parkin lot sittin on the 'llac
Them bitches got weight, them bitches got work
Them bitches wanna trip, them bitches 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 bitch a dead
And I don't give a fuck about what a bitch 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*}