Artist: DBangz Album: Ball Cap (S) Song: Ball Cap Typed by: AZ Lyrics Yo, stop it I'm taking watches out the pockets For my niggas who ain't got it And I still don't make a profit Wait, I'll flip it, and buy a honda civic Fuck a critic She listen to my music I don't ask her for the digits Goddamn, another she in my life The last one left She lowkey still be in my life Give me the key to my house 'Cause Imma need it tonight We don't meet, but she in my eyelids when I'm sleeping at night Got the style sharper than a knife slice Ride motorbikes with dykes It's fine, go ahead and pull that plug on my lifeline Don't leave me lifeless Afraid to go to that high place, but not being righteous I be in that seventh circle if it does exist I'm dropping sixes like the 6ers vs the fucking Knicks Clinching spliffs the size of telescopes and ice the wrist Down to 40 ounces biggest rock to swallow finds a sip Then I go to sleep, after checking lyrics Making sure I didn't skip a beat 'Cause god forbid my lyrics ain't really sounded sweet Most people listen that others know I need counseling These niggas call me whack You got me twisted like a bottle cap I stashed my inspiration from Dime bags and lava lamps Like, oh my god 'cause jehovah he ain't calling back I drop relationships like roses I don't call a fag And get the niggas who want features off my ballsack Like, I don't really care about offers and all that Ashes on my clothes But I ain't twisting my ball cap backwards This the master, all you artists can fall back When I drop a mic Yo, I leave it scalding hot Will these women like me before clout? I mean like, probably not The same niggas who hate The ones I'm shitting on All you hear is stolen Like the beat that I'm spitting on Take your girls pads And use them to put these written's on Don't worry 'bout my lyrics 'Cause I'm a fucking musician, mom And, Yeah I'm sorry for my decisions, mom But that was back in the past In the present and we get along Like, you "You wanna go to prison, son" I don't want no fucking degree But I can go get me one And um num Sneaky politicians, the suspicious ones Kissing bitches who's kissing lips Taste like, the glistening sun