Luyện nghe bài hát Ballin' On A Budget

I'm just a big baller on a budget
Dank weed, smokin' like it'
slicker, country nigga, reppin' straight from Kentucky
Horseshoes and rabbit paws flossin', chicken for the lucky
40 flowers, Range Rovers, so they know the rusted

Country cookin', dog fightin', big body
Chillin' like a mug in Kentuck', showin' love
Summertime a funner time, smoke and time
Sprite and somethin' dark every fuckin' time

Uhh, okay watch how the po' ball
through to mall in my overalls, the black Girbaud
No pager, no cellphone, no at all
a pack of Dutch Masters and a pint of alcohol

My hooptie, a down crew like Boots said
"You don't perm, a fade
Let my hair swing back and forth a germ
I'll nigga with sick shit, pull out this and it in this thick chick
Baby Mama drama, child court and ain't worth the biscuit"

What'cha know about backwood country folk?
What'cha know about the bone hundred spoke?
Crack Corn, no fade, no comb
What'cha about ballin' on a budget bro?
I'm just on a budget, yeaga
I'm ballin' on a budget, yeaga
I'm just on a budget, yeaga
the N the A the P P Y

Pull up, dead horns on the hood of my
Kentucky Mud on my shoes and my
Hungry Jack, prefer tryin' to stuff food in my gut
Country cat in the hat
I'm front to back put the house on

Candied yams, chitlins, greens, and smoked ham
Chicken wings, cornbread, in the kitchen throwin' down
Eat good, tryin' a smoke somethin', run up on a
Roll somethin', gut a Vega tryin' a stuff it with a

Hummin', Mama cookin' that mean it's Sunday
Half a pint of gin, it keep my goin'
Fat knot, [Incomprehensible], bad
Cigars and bags, man we stay right

Aww man, we go back, like pickle book clubs
Nigga that was good love, summertime in a foot tub
Damn that shit hurt and my jams in that
Atari 26, one never worked

What'cha know them backwood country folk?
What'cha know about the 'Lac bone spoke?
Jimmy Corn, no fade, no comb
know about ballin' on a budget bro?
I'm ballin' on a budget, yeaga
I'm just ballin' on a budget,
I'm just ballin' on a budget,
the N the A the P P Y

Comin' up in the all I did was run barefoot
Ne'er could comb my good
My hairline grew ten pound vines
my rib and my underwear
It's a thin brown line, shit

Chores did and Ma out on the clothin' line
Cool as shit, boys out on the grind
River views, picnic, big ticks the place
Folks visit and make it apparent to back again

Look here, see I smoke a fire and I drink like a fish
That's it, just ain't on my list
No comb, no brush, no fade, no
No shit, no hair and you get no

Now we love them gals that love themselves, southern belles
Them Kentucky gals with muddy tails
We cut them gals, no veils, no wedding
Trick on hotels, KY gels and nothin' else

What'cha know them backwood country folk?
What'cha know about the bone hundred spoke?
Crack Corn, no fade, no comb
What'cha know about ballin' on a bro?
I'm ballin' on a budget, yeaga
I'm ballin' on a budget, yeaga
I'm ballin' on a budget, yeaga
the N the A the P P Y