Hard Ball Lyrics
| Song | Hard Ball |
| Artist | Killa Tay |
| Album | Snake Eyes |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : C BO, Killa Tay | |
| This game | |
| Is to be sold not told | |
| Pay styles, pay pay styles | |
| Pay styles, pay styles | |
| Feds tappin in on shit | |
| You know, playin hard ball | |
| (Killa Tay) | |
| I never liked to sign autographs, I mash for all the cash | |
| My third eye shine like brass, my life flash | |
| I blast, when I ride past, pervin and swervin | |
| Off the cream soda and bourban, puttin in work like service | |
| It ain't no get back punk, my mini spit back chunks | |
| Won't be caught up in no scandal, we gon' handle the funk | |
| I'm representin for the Yay cause, ain't no love | |
| For none of these pretty-boy ballers, they just some fake thugs, wit a Yay plug | |
| We them niggaz runnin up yo house regulatin | |
| Do or die, down for the scrilla, we cheddar chasin | |
| Momma gave birth to a killa, premeditatin | |
| ????, ready to resurrect my thug nation | |
| Creepin while they sleepin like gorillas in the mist | |
| In Y2K hits, my niggaz spray shit | |
| Every solution, it's revolution, so we all shootin | |
| **** the system, I refuse to be the victim of an execution | |
| It's ??? from prison, that I'm tryin to stay livin | |
| And givin no gloved out, we thugged out | |
| Until the death of me, I'm thinkin bout some treachery | |
| On the click I get sick, like a nigga wit leprosy | |
| When they step to me | |
| It's smash murder | |
| Hook (C-Bo) | |
| It's Hard Ball, yard call, up against the wall | |
| People my enemies envy me, write on the walls | |
| Wit ya life in draws, blue bandanas and stand tall | |
| When the dope pop unlock, it's war til we fall | |
| (Repeat) | |
| (Killa Tay) | |
| Twistin tongues, get em sprung, like the crack rock | |
| I gets love from the gardens to the Mac block | |
| I ride hot wit my strap cocked, coast trippin | |
| Started servin stones, now we rappin for chickens | |
| Bloody victims, camouflaged in ditches | |
| I'm ridin wit the little homie, dodgin you bitches | |
| Mobbin these switches, bouncin through the light in the rain | |
| My niggaz mafia connected, spendin life in the game | |
| No turnin back, we burnin sacks, to try to deal wit the pain | |
| Before the feds shoot me dead, I put the steel in my brain | |
| I bet they bury me a down ass G, so until I see | |
| Prison or hell, I'm thug livin for mail | |
| Wit clientele from the ATL back to the Bay | |
| I bubble up, to servin double ups, back in the day | |
| Mr. Packin still got the spot, crackin today | |
| Unpluggin niggaz, mean muggin niggaz, passin the J | |
| My block, I keep my squad tight, we make them nights | |
| Ridin dirty through the MIA, shakin vice | |
| Murder all hoes that go in my way, protect my life | |
| Wit these warfare machinery, high blowin greenery | |
| Touch em like a comedy | |
| Tickle the spine, twist they mind like Geometry | |
| On my momma I'm a G | |
| Any shit that benefit, I represent | |
| Like a Nazi, til somebody pop me | |
| Throw up the dub | |
| Hook 2x | |
| (Killa Tay) | |
| It's been a long time, the West Coast got it crackin now | |
| I'm smokin MC's like Black & Mild | |
| Tryin to copycat my rappin style | |
| Bomb status, savage tactics, gettin my money stacked in piles | |
| I flow like the Nile River, living sermon like a preacher | |
| In the pull pit, still pack a full clip | |
| Told you I'm a fool bitch, I stay high | |
| Killa T-A-Y, and hear the pound down for the drive-by | |
| These G's ride, and it ain't no fear in my heart | |
| You talkin loud, wolfin threats, but I know you a mark | |
| Playa hatin so I'm waitin, for the ride to start | |
| I come creepin like a ninja when it's quiet and dark | |
| We playin hard ball, so if you soft step off | |
| Cause ain't no hoppin up outta this game, once these shots let off | |
| We rippin they heads off for tryin to cross | |
| Attackin like a wolfpack, I push back brains, you know my name | |
| It's the K-I-double L-A-T-A-Y, call me the Locsta | |
| Can't be runnin up in these stank routes, and my bank fat like Oprah | |
| Gank sacks to smoke off, we all high | |
| If the funk jump, we Loc up cause, we all ride | |
| You know my niggaz down for the homicides and rapes | |
| Po-po catch me bailin, while I'm sellin these tapes | |
| I make my money legit.......Sike! | |
| I'm makin G's pushin ki's, and bustin raps on the mike | |
| We chippin weed at the studio, what's crackin tonight | |
| I hear the Lord callin my name, tryin to get back in my life | |
| I see the devil's face deep in my dreams, lookin friendly | |
| But I recognize the public as my enemy | |
| Cause I'm coast trippin | |
| Hook 2x | |
| Yeah, West Coast Mafia | |
| For my real folks | |
| Everybody else suck a dick | |
| Nigga this Fresno | |
| Penzoni for life nigga | |
| All the rest is phonies | |
| Big ballin respect that |
| zuo ci : C BO, Killa Tay | |
| This game | |
| Is to be sold not told | |
| Pay styles, pay pay styles | |
| Pay styles, pay styles | |
| Feds tappin in on shit | |
| You know, playin hard ball | |
| Killa Tay | |
| I never liked to sign autographs, I mash for all the cash | |
| My third eye shine like brass, my life flash | |
| I blast, when I ride past, pervin and swervin | |
| Off the cream soda and bourban, puttin in work like service | |
| It ain' t no get back punk, my mini spit back chunks | |
| Won' t be caught up in no scandal, we gon' handle the funk | |
| I' m representin for the Yay cause, ain' t no love | |
| For none of these prettyboy ballers, they just some fake thugs, wit a Yay plug | |
| We them niggaz runnin up yo house regulatin | |
| Do or die, down for the scrilla, we cheddar chasin | |
| Momma gave birth to a killa, premeditatin | |
| ????, ready to resurrect my thug nation | |
| Creepin while they sleepin like gorillas in the mist | |
| In Y2K hits, my niggaz spray shit | |
| Every solution, it' s revolution, so we all shootin | |
| the system, I refuse to be the victim of an execution | |
| It' s nbsp??? from prison, that I' m tryin to stay livin | |
| And givin no gloved out, we thugged out | |
| Until the death of me, I' m thinkin bout some treachery | |
| On the click I get sick, like a nigga wit leprosy | |
| When they step to me | |
| It' s smash murder | |
| Hook CBo | |
| It' s Hard Ball, yard call, up against the wall | |
| People my enemies envy me, write on the walls | |
| Wit ya life in draws, blue bandanas and stand tall | |
| When the dope pop unlock, it' s war til we fall | |
| Repeat | |
| Killa Tay | |
| Twistin tongues, get em sprung, like the crack rock | |
| I gets love from the gardens to the Mac block | |
| I ride hot wit my strap cocked, coast trippin | |
| Started servin stones, now we rappin for chickens | |
| Bloody victims, camouflaged in ditches | |
| I' m ridin wit the little homie, dodgin you bitches | |
| Mobbin these switches, bouncin through the light in the rain | |
| My niggaz mafia connected, spendin life in the game | |
| No turnin back, we burnin sacks, to try to deal wit the pain | |
| Before the feds shoot me dead, I put the steel in my brain | |
| I bet they bury me a down ass G, so until I see | |
| Prison or hell, I' m thug livin for mail | |
| Wit clientele from the ATL back to the Bay | |
| I bubble up, to servin double ups, back in the day | |
| Mr. Packin still got the spot, crackin today | |
| Unpluggin niggaz, mean muggin niggaz, passin the J | |
| My block, I keep my squad tight, we make them nights | |
| Ridin dirty through the MIA, shakin vice | |
| Murder all hoes that go in my way, protect my life | |
| Wit these warfare machinery, high blowin greenery | |
| Touch em like a comedy | |
| Tickle the spine, twist they mind like Geometry | |
| On my momma I' m a G | |
| Any shit that benefit, I represent | |
| Like a Nazi, til somebody pop me | |
| Throw up the dub | |
| Hook 2x | |
| Killa Tay | |
| It' s been a long time, the West Coast got it crackin now | |
| I' m smokin MC' s like Black Mild | |
| Tryin to copycat my rappin style | |
| Bomb status, savage tactics, gettin my money stacked in piles | |
| I flow like the Nile River, living sermon like a preacher | |
| In the pull pit, still pack a full clip | |
| Told you I' m a fool bitch, I stay high | |
| Killa TAY, and hear the pound down for the driveby | |
| These G' s ride, and it ain' t no fear in my heart | |
| You talkin loud, wolfin threats, but I know you a mark | |
| Playa hatin so I' m waitin, for the ride to start | |
| I come creepin like a ninja when it' s quiet and dark | |
| We playin hard ball, so if you soft step off | |
| Cause ain' t no hoppin up outta this game, once these shots let off | |
| We rippin they heads off for tryin to cross | |
| Attackin like a wolfpack, I push back brains, you know my name | |
| It' s the KIdouble LATAY, call me the Locsta | |
| Can' t be runnin up in these stank routes, and my bank fat like Oprah | |
| Gank sacks to smoke off, we all high | |
| If the funk jump, we Loc up cause, we all ride | |
| You know my niggaz down for the homicides and rapes | |
| Popo catch me bailin, while I' m sellin these tapes | |
| I make my money legit....... Sike! | |
| I' m makin G' s pushin ki' s, and bustin raps on the mike | |
| We chippin weed at the studio, what' s crackin tonight | |
| I hear the Lord callin my name, tryin to get back in my life | |
| I see the devil' s face deep in my dreams, lookin friendly | |
| But I recognize the public as my enemy | |
| Cause I' m coast trippin | |
| Hook 2x | |
| Yeah, West Coast Mafia | |
| For my real folks | |
| Everybody else suck a dick | |
| Nigga this Fresno | |
| Penzoni for life nigga | |
| All the rest is phonies | |
| Big ballin respect that |
| zuò cí : C BO, Killa Tay | |
| This game | |
| Is to be sold not told | |
| Pay styles, pay pay styles | |
| Pay styles, pay styles | |
| Feds tappin in on shit | |
| You know, playin hard ball | |
| Killa Tay | |
| I never liked to sign autographs, I mash for all the cash | |
| My third eye shine like brass, my life flash | |
| I blast, when I ride past, pervin and swervin | |
| Off the cream soda and bourban, puttin in work like service | |
| It ain' t no get back punk, my mini spit back chunks | |
| Won' t be caught up in no scandal, we gon' handle the funk | |
| I' m representin for the Yay cause, ain' t no love | |
| For none of these prettyboy ballers, they just some fake thugs, wit a Yay plug | |
| We them niggaz runnin up yo house regulatin | |
| Do or die, down for the scrilla, we cheddar chasin | |
| Momma gave birth to a killa, premeditatin | |
| ????, ready to resurrect my thug nation | |
| Creepin while they sleepin like gorillas in the mist | |
| In Y2K hits, my niggaz spray shit | |
| Every solution, it' s revolution, so we all shootin | |
| the system, I refuse to be the victim of an execution | |
| It' s nbsp??? from prison, that I' m tryin to stay livin | |
| And givin no gloved out, we thugged out | |
| Until the death of me, I' m thinkin bout some treachery | |
| On the click I get sick, like a nigga wit leprosy | |
| When they step to me | |
| It' s smash murder | |
| Hook CBo | |
| It' s Hard Ball, yard call, up against the wall | |
| People my enemies envy me, write on the walls | |
| Wit ya life in draws, blue bandanas and stand tall | |
| When the dope pop unlock, it' s war til we fall | |
| Repeat | |
| Killa Tay | |
| Twistin tongues, get em sprung, like the crack rock | |
| I gets love from the gardens to the Mac block | |
| I ride hot wit my strap cocked, coast trippin | |
| Started servin stones, now we rappin for chickens | |
| Bloody victims, camouflaged in ditches | |
| I' m ridin wit the little homie, dodgin you bitches | |
| Mobbin these switches, bouncin through the light in the rain | |
| My niggaz mafia connected, spendin life in the game | |
| No turnin back, we burnin sacks, to try to deal wit the pain | |
| Before the feds shoot me dead, I put the steel in my brain | |
| I bet they bury me a down ass G, so until I see | |
| Prison or hell, I' m thug livin for mail | |
| Wit clientele from the ATL back to the Bay | |
| I bubble up, to servin double ups, back in the day | |
| Mr. Packin still got the spot, crackin today | |
| Unpluggin niggaz, mean muggin niggaz, passin the J | |
| My block, I keep my squad tight, we make them nights | |
| Ridin dirty through the MIA, shakin vice | |
| Murder all hoes that go in my way, protect my life | |
| Wit these warfare machinery, high blowin greenery | |
| Touch em like a comedy | |
| Tickle the spine, twist they mind like Geometry | |
| On my momma I' m a G | |
| Any shit that benefit, I represent | |
| Like a Nazi, til somebody pop me | |
| Throw up the dub | |
| Hook 2x | |
| Killa Tay | |
| It' s been a long time, the West Coast got it crackin now | |
| I' m smokin MC' s like Black Mild | |
| Tryin to copycat my rappin style | |
| Bomb status, savage tactics, gettin my money stacked in piles | |
| I flow like the Nile River, living sermon like a preacher | |
| In the pull pit, still pack a full clip | |
| Told you I' m a fool bitch, I stay high | |
| Killa TAY, and hear the pound down for the driveby | |
| These G' s ride, and it ain' t no fear in my heart | |
| You talkin loud, wolfin threats, but I know you a mark | |
| Playa hatin so I' m waitin, for the ride to start | |
| I come creepin like a ninja when it' s quiet and dark | |
| We playin hard ball, so if you soft step off | |
| Cause ain' t no hoppin up outta this game, once these shots let off | |
| We rippin they heads off for tryin to cross | |
| Attackin like a wolfpack, I push back brains, you know my name | |
| It' s the KIdouble LATAY, call me the Locsta | |
| Can' t be runnin up in these stank routes, and my bank fat like Oprah | |
| Gank sacks to smoke off, we all high | |
| If the funk jump, we Loc up cause, we all ride | |
| You know my niggaz down for the homicides and rapes | |
| Popo catch me bailin, while I' m sellin these tapes | |
| I make my money legit....... Sike! | |
| I' m makin G' s pushin ki' s, and bustin raps on the mike | |
| We chippin weed at the studio, what' s crackin tonight | |
| I hear the Lord callin my name, tryin to get back in my life | |
| I see the devil' s face deep in my dreams, lookin friendly | |
| But I recognize the public as my enemy | |
| Cause I' m coast trippin | |
| Hook 2x | |
| Yeah, West Coast Mafia | |
| For my real folks | |
| Everybody else suck a dick | |
| Nigga this Fresno | |
| Penzoni for life nigga | |
| All the rest is phonies | |
| Big ballin respect that |
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