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(feat. D-Gotti, E.S.G., Noke D, Ronnie Spencer) [talking] Ahhh, it's ball caps (yeah) Tennis shoes (tennis shoes) Y'all feel that (yeah-a-a-yeah) Know what I'm talking bout [D-Gotti] Now as I floss through the club, in my FUBU gear Zero-5 on my chest, it's going down in here Mink coats off the hook, make the boppers stop and look Dusty hoes get shook, thoed ones get took Feeling like a crook, with my hat to the back Same color Air Macks, bout to snatch me a pack Sipping on conyac, spectators get blinded Words out they mouth, that D-Gotti been grinding He shining, underline him as a ghetto prince Dining on lobster and shrimp, and show baguettes when he grin Set trends through tight shirts, and slacks don't match It's bout jersey, caps and tennis shoes and my CM hat And see I always, do what I wanna do (do what I wanna do) I'm playa made, so I'm ball caps and tennis shoes [Noke D] Sho nuff, see it was 1:45, when I pulled in the lot Letras de canciones19's on chrome, with the sun-proof box Boppers watch as I step down, like a thug you know Almost gave a nigga hell, when I got to the do' Talking bout no tennis shoes, or no ball caps allowed But I paid about three hundred, for my thug attire Now I paid 150, for the damn Air Macks And uh 125, for the jersey to match And 75 bucks, for FUBU shorts with cuffs And if that ain't enough, then you hoes can suck a nigga nuts See I'm a real true G, and you crazy If you won't let me in your club, then you'll pay me To do your show, and you gon know That it's about five deep for Noke D, Gotti and E So whoever at the do', show your partna some love Instead of letting these hoe ass scrubs, off up in your club True thugs get back rubs, in the VIP Sipping bar with sexy broads, lap dancing for free [Chorus: Ronnie Spencer] Ball caps, and tennis shoes y'all That's a hustler's attire When he on the move, yeah-hey Ball caps, and tennis shoes y'all I got the new Air Macks, jersey to match Fall up in the club, with my hat to the back [E.S.G.] I valeted the V-12, can't you tell I'm on fire VIP through the club, with my thugged out attire Live wire later show, and now I'm button to Meca Khaki's creased platinum piece, touch the tip of my baretta Southside trend setter, nobody does it better And I did it cap fitted, to the back on leather No matter the weather, this how real hustle work Boy you gets no play, with that gay muscle shirt On my bumper the skirt, I'm finger fucking with my diamonds Love them old school J's, but Air Macks be the finest Man I'm shining and grinding, and I know you hoes see Ball caps and tennis shoes, copped the blues ?Thenins? Even though a nigga thoed, got stopped at the do' Turned around and called the damn, security guard a hoe You gonna call 5-0, slammed the do' on the Gator On my way to make a maker, putting it down with major playas [Chorus x2: Ronnie Spencer] [Ronnie Spencer] Yeah, we ball till we fall Noke D, E.S.G. and D-Gotti Wreckshop Family From Letras Mania