Ballin' Outta Control

Pushed in the game at a young age Feel me touch me as I turn the page A little past ten, roughly about eleven years old TRAPPED IN A GHETTO CAGE My scratch is smellin sour and it's stinkin got a nigga seriously thinkin "How can I kill this odor, and purchase me a Lincoln?" Minimum wage flippin patties - nope I'd rather fuck around with Coca-Cola, yola Ice cream, candy, granola, huh Slave for men - that's what they told me and I'll break you off somethin suitable Brought you a key of crack quicker than ? ? recoupable ? future black and beautiful My partners used to be plucked and ugly Hangin around them old squeegee boys Man them the motherfuckers that have love for me They straight cut for me Deal me, touch me, L-O-V-E E-to-the-F-to-the-R-T-Y I spits the shit from the T-O-P It's me, the E, droppin it nuclear all the time Motherfucker comin from the motherfuckin MIND Fuck you niggaz, you think I sell my soul But I'm way too cold, motherfucker! Chorus: LeVitti Sittin in my livin room Thinkin of, a master plan Tryin to find a way out HOW TO STACH the scratch So I painted me a picture of a life, to make a dream Can you feel me now Ballin outta control, ballin outta control Fresh off the