BALBOA Lyrics

Back against the rope, swing like Boboa, Boa, Boa, Boa, Boa,

Can't take me out, can't takeme out, can't take me out, can't take me out,

God knew I was sinful, still gave me potential

Cuz knew we was kinfolk, still gave up some info, nothing accidental, even when you miss em,

Miss em, miss em, miss em,

Look at her now, she a bird now, decorated angel wings

Doing her damn thing, shit's amazing, I live in yellow springs, my niggas claim gangs

I coach and body train, go by a lot of names

I survived some things, decade in the chains

Something had to change, had to have the pain, made me who I am

Every scar every blemish there so I remember

Remember when they fucked me up in public, broke my jaws, remember when I cocked her back like Pat

And break the law, remember when I missed her first steps, I never saw, remember CBCF

Paying three dollars a call, remember tripping thinking that your homie fucked your broad

Couldn't get no rest, demons playing in my skull, two years for a vest, five du-du out the car

Add up all the rest, they paid less, I paid more

I was under stress, I was stuck behind bars

Bitch lied to me, left my dick with a scar, I'm still hard headed every time my dick get hard

Ain't gon' say no names, bitches know who they are,

Back against the rope, swing like Balboa

Can't take me out, can't take me out, can't take me out

Can't take me out,

Back against the rope, swing like Balboa

Can't take me out, can't take me out, can't take me out

Can't take me out cant take me out

God knew I wasn't perfect

Still gave me discernment, in the lowest places

I was seeking higher learning, rose to the surface

Now I'm writing sermons, the world's my pulpit

I'm living in my purpose, goals are so lofty

Sometimes it makes me nervous, so much on my plate

Look like I hardly ate, standing up so straight

Look like my back don't ache, grind from 5 to 8

On the weekends I don't sleep, this is what it take

Only thing left is great

Stop telling me to chill like that's a motherfucking option

Stop telling me to eat unless you cooking me some pasta

Stop telling me to pray for a demon hoe who godless

Stop telling me you love me when you breaking every promise

Stop telling me everything you think I wanna hear

Stop telling me where you at when I'm over here

The world ain't flat bitch, I run circles round you squares

I'm getting too big for these underwears I wear

Too big for you bitches, too big for my britches

Too big for you busters and you punk motherfuckers