Ballin' On A Budget Lyrics - Watermelon, Chicken And Gritz - Nappy Roots

I'm just a big bang baller on a budget 

Dank weed, smokin' like 'fuck it' 

City slicker, country nigga, reppin' straight from Kentucky 

Horseshoes and rabbit paws flossin', chicken closs for the lucky 

40 flowers, Range Rovers, so they know the tailpipe's rusted 

Country cookin', dog fightin', big body ridin' 

Chillin' like a mug in Western Kentuck', showin' love 

Summertime a funner time, smoke and gunner time 

Sippin' Sprite and somethin' dark every fuckin' time 

Uhh, okay watch how the po' folk ball 

Stomp through to mall in my overalls, the black Girbaud 

No pager, no cellphone, no access at all 

Just a pack of Dutch Masters and a pint of alcohol 

My hooptie, with a down crew like Boots said 

"You don't perm, fuck a fade 

Let my hair swing back and forth like a germ 

I'll nigga with sick shit, pull out this and stick it in this thick chick 

Baby Mama drama, child support court and ain't worth the biscuit" 

What'cha know about them backwood country folk? 

What'cha know about the 'Lac bone hundred spoke? 

Jimmy Crack Corn, no fade, no comb 

What'cha know about ballin' on a budget bro? 

I'm just ballin' on a budget, yeaga 

I'm just ballin' on a budget, yeaga 

I'm just ballin' on a budget, yeaga 

It's the N the A the P P Y 

Pull up, dead horns on the hood of my truck 

Kentucky Mud on my shoes and my socks 

Hungry Jack, prefer tryin' to stuff some food in my gut 

Country cat in the cowboy hat 

I'm front to back put the house on that 

Candied yams, chitlins, greens, and smoked country ham 

Chicken wings, cornbread, gran in the kitchen throwin' down 

Eat good, tryin' a smoke somethin', run up on a pound 

Roll somethin', gut a Vega tryin' a stuff it with a ounce 

Hummin', Mama cookin' that mean it's Sunday mo'nin 

Half a pint of bootleg gin, it keep my goin' 

Fat knot, [Incomprehensible], bad daylight 

Cigars and happy bags, man we stay right 

Aww man, we go back, like sweet pickle book clubs 

Nigga that was good love, summertime bathin' in a foot tub 

Damn that shit hurt and my jams in that shirt 

Atari 26, one stick never worked 

What'cha know about them backwood country folk? 

What'cha know about the 'Lac bone hundred spoke? 

Jimmy Crack Corn, no fade, no comb 

What'cha know about ballin' on a budget bro? 

I'm just ballin' on a budget, yeaga 

I'm just ballin' on a budget, yeaga 

I'm just ballin' on a budget, yeaga 

It's the N the A the P P Y 

Comin' up in the woods all I did was run barefoot 

Ne'er could comb my hair good 

My hairline grew like ten pound vines 

'Tween my rib and my underwear 

It's still a thin brown line, shit 

Chores did and Ma work out on the clothin' line 

Cool as shit, country boys out on the grind 

River views, picnic, big ticks covered the place 

Folks visit and make it apparent to come back again 

Look here, see I smoke like a fire and I drink like a fish 

That's it, Ecstasy just ain't on my list 

No comb, no brush, no fade, no pick 

No shit, no hair and you get no dick 

Now we love them gals that love themselves, them southern belles 

Them Clydesdale Kentucky gals with muddy tails 

We cut them gals, no veils, no wedding bells 

Trick on cheap hotels, KY gels and nothin' else 

What'cha know about them backwood country folk? 

What'cha know about the 'Lac bone hundred spoke? 

Jimmy Crack Corn, no fade, no comb 

What'cha know about ballin' on a budget bro? 

I'm just ballin' on a budget, yeaga 

I'm just ballin' on a budget, yeaga 

I'm just ballin' on a budget, yeaga 

It's the N the A the P P Y