Nappy Roots

Nappy Roots - Ballin' On A Budget lyrics

I'm just a, big bang baller on a budget

Dank weed, smokin like "fuck it"

City slicker, country nigga, reppin straight from Kentucky

Horseshoes and rabbit paws flossin, chicken closs for the lucky

40 flowers, Range Rovers, so they know the tailpipe's rusted

[Big V]

Country cookin, dog fightin, big-body ridin

Chillin like a mug in Western Kentuck', showin love

Summertime a funner time, smoke and gunner time

Sippin Sprite and somethin dark, every fuckin time

[Scales]

Uhh, okay watch how the po' folk ball

Stomp through to mall in my overalls, the black Girbaud

No pager, no cellphone, no access at all

Just a pack of Dutch Masters and a pint of alcohol

[Skinny DeVille]

My hooptie, with a down crew like Boots said

You don't Perm , Fuck a fade

let my hair swang back and forth like a germ

Ill nigga with sick shit, pull out this and stick it in this thick chick

Baby mama drama, child support court and ain't worth the biscuit

[Chorus: Skinny]

Whattcha know about them backwood country folk?

Whattcha know about the 'Lac bone hundred spoke?

Jimmy Crack Corn; no fade, no comb

Whattcha know about ballin on a budget bro?

I'm just ballin on a budget yeaga (yeaga)

I'm just ballin on a budget yeaga (yeaga)

I'm just ballin on a budget yeaga (yeaga)

It's the N the A the P-P-Y

[B. Stille]

Pull up, dead horns on the hood of my truck

Kentucky Mud on my shoes and my socks

Hungry Jack, pheffer tryna stuff some food in my gut

Country cat in the cowboy hat

I'm front to back put the house on that

[Ron Clutch]

Candied yams, chitlins, greens, and smoked country ham

Chicken wings, cornbread, gran in the kitchen throwin down

Eat good, tryna smoke somethin, run up on a pound

Roll somethin, gut a vega tryna stuff it with a ounce

[Big V]

Hummin, mama cookin that mean it's Sunday mo'nin

Half a pint of bootleg gin, it keep my goin

Fat knot, (?) , bad daylight

Cigars and happy bags, man we stay right

[Scales]

Aww man, we go back, like sweet pickle book clubs

Nigga that was good love, summertime bathin in a foot tub

Damn that shit hurt, and my jams in that shirt

Atari 26, one stick, never worked

[Chorus: Skinny]

[B. Stille]

Comin up in the woods, all I did was run barefoot

Ne'er could comb my hair good

My hairline grew like ten pound vines

'Tween my rib and my underware

It's still a thin brown line, shit

[Big V]

Chores did, and ma work out on the clothin line

Cool as shit, country boys out on the grind

River views, picknic, big ticks covered the place

Folks visit, and make it apparent to come back again

[Scales]

Look here, see I smoke like a fire and a drink like a fish

That's it, ecstasy just ain't on my list

No comb, no brush, no fade, no pick

No shit, no hair and you get no dick

[B. Stille]

Now we love them gals that love themselves, them southern belles

Them Clydesdale Kentucky gals, with muddy tails

We cut them gals, no veils, no wedding bells

Trick on cheap hotels, KY gels and nothin else

[Chorus: Skinny

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