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Artist: ScHoolboy Q f/ Jesse Rankins
Album:  Blank Face LP
Song:   Str8 Ballin
Typed by: Cedmaster3K

[ScHoolboy Q]
Mm, believe that, yo
Fo'real doe (uhh, uhh)

Figured that I gotta sell dope (sell dope)
or the money won't grow (come on, come on)
Figured I was too short (too short)
and I could never turn pro, uhh (come on, come on)
You could tell I never had shit
But bet I get that eighty grand wrist (come on, come on)
Told me we could never get rich
Now watch me ride the Chevy, hit the switch
Straight ballin' like a beitch~!
Aye, ridin' through the city on chrome (come on)
Ghetto nigga out the sunroof, hey
Four keys, bitch please
Straight ballin' like a beitch~! Flossin' in the mind
Stuntin' like the first, shufflin' the work
Uhh, I done came from the dirt
Now the engine make the tire go skrrt!
Used to sleep with roaches cracky uncle and all
Now a hundred thousand just a hour involved, mm
So easy how I make a mil' flip
Snoop ain't the only rich Crip nigga
Uhh, from sleepin' on Tops couch to multiple bank accounts
To havin' me a mall for house
Like, they tried to slim my chances as kid though
They always said I'd never make it big though
Straight ballin' like a beitch~!

[Chorus: Jesse Rankins] + (ScHoolboy Q)
Picture me rollin', ohh
Straight out of the ghetto to a deluxe apartment in the sky
(Straight ballin' like a beitch~!)
Picture me rollin', ohh, mm-mm-yea
I used to smoke bush now all this kush got me so high
Ayy-hey - ain't it so high? So high
Ain't it so high? So high
I used to smoke bush now all this kush got me so high
(Straight ballin' like a beitch~!) So high
(Straight ballin' like a beitch~!) So hiiigh
(Straight ballin' like a beitch~!)
Yea-hey, yea, yea-hey-yeah
(Straight ballin' like a beitch~!)
(Straight ballin' like a beitch~!)

[ScHoolboy Q]
... Ayy
Wait, waitin' on my turn to get paid (come on)
Nigga tryin to make a mil' a day (come on)
Put that rental on in the interstate
Since a youngin' I was gifted, momma bought me some things for the bitches
Bruh I go through some things you gotta witness
Stomach get to mumblin' at night
Watchin' every car that drive by and, lookin' every driver in the eye
52nd enterprise, marchin' in these Chucks just like they boots
Money make a pussy get the juice
Money make the copper give a pass
Money make me cop a bigger roof, money got me skippin' every class
Tryna kill 'em for the summer
The teachers ain't teachin', the judge taught us numbers
Uhh, we was raised by single mothers
Pop once took us undercover, through the streets, we learned colors
Hidin' from the Reaper tryna dodge the cage
This shit I've done to rhyme on this stage
I went from king of the the corner
to breakin' down weed on my diploma
Straight ballin' like a beitch~!