(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

19'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