Rapper's Ball

E-40, Too $hort, K-Ci & JoJo Buy

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Jodeci (sometimes stylized as JoDeCi) is an American band, whose repertoire includes R&B, soul music, and new jack swing. The group consists of two pairs of brothers from Hampton, Virginia and Charlotte, North Carolina: Cedric & Joel Hailey and Donald & Dalvin DeGrate, all respectively known by their stage names: K-Ci & JoJo, DeVante Swing and Mr. Dalvin. The group's name is a combination of the names from all four members: Jo-Jo, DeGrate, and K-Ci. more »


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Where them naked hoes at? 

Too Scheezy! 
We off the heezy fo'scheezy baby! 
Off the heezy I thought you theezy!! 
Niggaz ain't havin no cheesy like us main! 
They ain't havin no raveez! 
Haha you know us. 
Where K-Ceeezi at man? Tell him sing that shit. 
Lace dem fools or something. 

Chorus: K-Ci 

Say that you got it all 
Love the way you players ball 
Everyday you're at the mall 
Tell me is it true or false 
Say that you got it all 
Love the way you players ball 
Claimin that your mail is tall 
Tell me is it true or false 

Verse One: E-40, Too $hort 

I put my mack hand down ain't never been asound 
I was havin be	-are-e-a-d way before this rap game nigga been town 
Thought you theezy, for sheezy, niggaz 'member 
Earl, Brat, and Denell dem boys from Vallel 
At every light it's automatic, BURN RUBBER 
See my folkers in the traffic, WHASSUP ERB 
Follow that cab it got dope in it, uhh 
My potnah $hort got hoes in it 

I'm always hearin rappers big ballin on they songs 
I do that shit for real and you'll never say I'm wrong 
S-500 straight sittin on twenties 
TV in the dash pimpin hoes gettin money 
I'm Too $hort baby been down since the eighties 
For the last eight years rode around in a Mercedes 
Lexus, trucks, drop-Vette, Caddy 
Bitches don't call me by my name they call me daddy 


Verse Two: E-40, Too $hort 

K-Ci $hort E-40 Fonzarelli 
I'll probably never have long money like Ross Perilli 
But shit we just want a hip 
Don't want the whole plate 
Don't put the two on the ten, don't ever perpetrate 
Like a lot of these fools I see on TV 
With the Armani Chanel Versus Versacci 
Why motherfuckers can't be broke sometimes? 
Sometimes it's cool to floss 
But don't buy an eighty-five thousand dollar car 
Before you buy a house 

They always said I couldn't rap, I just say bitch 
I guess the bitch, made me rich 
And now you wanna call me hardcore 
While I be steppin out the shower on a marble floor 
I paid the IRS taxes send FedEx and faxes 
This industry'll is like fuckin, fat bitches 
All work and no play, I do it everyday 
Anyway 'cause I gotta stay paid 40 


Verse Three: E-40, Too $hort 

We throw parties on big-ass boats, niggaz wrap they paper 
Ultrafied all-inclusive trips, Montego Jamaica 
Front row seats at the Ultimate Fights, shamrock and severin 
Long expensive fuh-flights, up dere in the heavens 
Fat ass royalty checks, fat ass cribs 
Smokin blunts and drinkin brew on the blacony, barbecuin ribs 
The more scrilla, the merrier 
I represent the Ya area 

I walk from Foothill and Paperscourt to Sixty-Seven MacArthur 
To Freddie be	 house to make tapes with my potnah 
Hit Arroyo Park, we had tapes for sale 
Got a paper bag full of that, can't you tell 
It's funky, everybody nod they head like this 
I said bitch, and everybody read my lips 
I got rich, suckin up the game from the O 
And even though a lot of rappers got the same kind of flow 
I survived 'cause I got mo', game than them 
It came straight from the prostitutes, players, and pimps 
It was my destiny, I came the same every time 
So don't question me, I transfer the game in the rhymes 

I'm not a freestyler, don't rap for free main 
It's Paystyle on mine, 'cause I love money main 
Landrovers and Toyota, Lexuses 
Six-hundred feet twelve with them big ass motor Mercedeses 
We don't be savin hoes, bitches be savin us 
Bitch disrespect me in my car, bitch best to catch the bus 
I keep a briefcase full of game, while y'all be ear-hustlin 
Ain't no paperback pimpin nigga, we ain't strugglin 


Verse Four: Too $hort 

I'm Shorty the Pimp, I come funky 
Again and again, they say when will it end? 
Maybe never, cause I can still spit it 
But I ain't rappin for cheese, I want meal tickets 
Gotta start somewhere, and I'm past that 
For the right scratch, I be the last mack 
So stick yaself Pretty Tony 
You tryin ta make a hit, but your shit sounds phony 
Not like AT&T but like ET 
You can't be me, so would you please see 
If you can keep my name out your mouth 
Cause you don't really know what the game's all about 
It's bout feedin the family, not freakin in the Benz 
Instead of rentin, pay for that roof on your head 
And stop pimpin in your mind knowin you a trick 
Put your hustle down playa go an hit you a lick 

(That's writ, Too Scheezi, Ant Banks, Forty Fonzarelli, K-Ci) 
Damn is that right? 
(That's right)

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Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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    "Rapper's Ball Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 25 Feb. 2021. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric/16131374/Jodeci>.

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    Rapper's Ball

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