BEACH BALL Lyrics – Busta Rhymes
Singer: Busta Rhymes
Title: BEACH BALL
Cartier frames with the Gucci flip flops (Sho’)
Blowin’ money fast, man, I’ma be Rick Ross
Uh, tell these hoes to kick rocks
b#tch ride a boat like it’s a seesaw
Check-in bags and your p#ss#-girl ‘fore you depart (Ho)
Yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah
Dolce & Gabanna, spoil him and 〈.?.〉
b#tch put a cop down, why you keep coughing?
Put her in the ocean but she suck at beach ball
Hoes moving up and down, seasaw
Give me backshots, now it’s back to D.R
Fly you out to P.R., can’t put you in no Dior
Look into my eyes, you could tell I’m 〈.?.〉, boy
Poppin’ wheelies on that dick, he thinkin’ I’m from 〈.?.〉
We should’ve been friends but I know you wanna be more
Touch my first M, n#gg#s know I gotta see more
〈.?.〉 my ends and you know I had to detour
Flew in first class just to sit up by the seashore (Sheesh)
You can’t f#ck me in no G4
Cartier frames with the Gucci flip flops (Buss)
Blowin’ money fast, man, I’ma be Rick Ross (BIA, BIA)
Look, see, I inflated the plot
Ever since the day of crack sales I upgraded the block, n#gg#
Yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah
Louis and that Gucci make her bug and 〈.?.〉 off
And drag me to a dressing room and give me top until she coughin’
Waterfallin’, suckin’ on these beach balls
And all these b#tches walkin’ round me talkin’ ’bout, “I miss you”
Never kiss ’em but I always hit ’em back to D.R
Shawty, yes, I see ya, who the f#ck you thinkin’ we are?
Think you ’bout to come up? See, them thoughts, you better ignore
f#ck you think you’re foolin’ tryna come off like a sweetheart?
Think we more than homies? Motherf#ck
f#ck these records up in ways you’ve never seen it before
Bustin’ everybody #ss on records when I record ’em
Light shinin’, n#gg#, lookin’ at me like it’s 〈.?.〉
A-ha, 〈.?.〉
Cartier frames with the Gucci flip flops (Sho’)
Blowin’ money fast, man, I’ma be Rick Ross (Ross)
Uh, tell these hoes to kick rocks
b#tch ride a boat like it’s a seesaw
Check-in bags and your p#ss#-girl ‘fore you depart (Ho)
Yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah
Louis and that Gucci make her bug and 〈.?.〉 off
And drag me to a dressing room and give me top until she coughin’
Waterfallin’, suckin’ on these beach balls
And all these b#tches walkin’ round me talkin’ ’bout, “I miss you”
Give me backshots, now it’s back to D.R
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Lyrics Busta Rhymes – BEACH BALL
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