Ballers Feud lyrics

Chorus *(Phats Bossalini & Val Young)* 2x

That's the Ballers Feud
A thug changes, and love changes
That's the Ballers Feud
And best friends become strangers

Verse 1*(Yukmouth)*

Survey says...
You know some fake mutha f*ckas
I know some bustas too
This fake mutha f*cka been causin rukus in my crew
Since '92
At first I thought he was cool like Dru
Always hollerin the Dangerous Crew, but if you only knew
Them n*ggas don't wanna hang wit you
Cuz of the thangs you do
Learn a thang or two
Talkin bad bout yo homies, two b*tches who juss be framin you
n*ggas thinkin bout hangin you, the game is true
Everywhere we go the punk hoo bangin you
Makes it kinda hard for me to swang wit you
That's why n*ggas only hang wit Dru, my pimpydoo
Folk-el, smoke out my Range Rove-el
What? What?
f*ck these broke-els
I hate it when n*ggas be playin wit yo mail, because they only end up
Smoked out
Broke as hell
Drivin buckets
I'm drivin luxury cars and plus sh*t
Benz the Lexus the roughest to f*ck wit
So you wanna be P-I-M-P?
You need to get a b*tch to f*ck you fo free
You payin G's fo pus*y
*(Chorus)* 2x

Verse 2 *(Numskull)*

There's too many playas
Too many ballas
Too many hustlas
Too many killas
Too many pimped out mutha f*ckas
So now we got the east coast and the west coast feudin to see who's
Cleanest
The cleanest mutha f*cka is the richest and the genius
What if you stumbles, like buyin too many houses
Wit rims to put on yo sh*t, too many furry couches
Who the mouses n*gga, I think you knowin
Sheadin tears from b*tches who take yo sh*t and keep goin
An don't come back, cuz they done sucked you di*k and yo cabbage
Got 20 hoes across America livin lavish
Hatin is juss a ho thang, yo, I gotta live like that
A b*tch can roll wit me, or hit the track
You can talk about pimpin, you can talk about killin
But when that sh*t goes down, sound minds will be revealin
When you die and comeback, maybe you can try again and beat me
But don't try now, cuz you n*ggas can't see me
22, ready to hoo ride at moments notice
First to swang, hittin noses, eyes can't focus
Hocus pocus
Now 25 n*ggas on ya
Juss because you moved from California
Ballers Feud
*(Chorus)* 2x

Verse 3 *(Kastro)*

We went from loved ones, on the way up
To no love at all
Time to go though, so I don't give no f*cks at all
Cross the game
Don't be playin, stoned get right
I shed blood wit this, and that can't be gone, overnight
This hate
Man, could be a cold mutha f*cka
Close friends, close as cat scan, love 'em like my brother
Now I
See 'em dyin like a mutha f*cka
Slow death, no breath
Man I love it like my mother
And that's some cold sh*t, I'm on some mo' swole sh*t
Listen quick
Fingers thick
Lady clit
p*ss this sh*t, on yo clit
n*ggas know I'm flossin K-Cash
Cash foldin
You want what I'm holdin, my wife an my life stolen
Worse enemy, authority
Police are all enemy
Richeously, this life fo' me ain't as bad as it seems to be
But still in all I love, all I love
Take my ten fingers, my ten toes, an mash outta love
Do it fo ya'll, all ya'll
My baby girl an God
This crazy world like a knife in the heart of my cause
Now half part of me hard
The other part of me scarred
Death wit out health, but still a n*gga prayin to God
*(Chorus)* 4x