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~! [Chorus]