>Fake point, can't annoint; you disappoint, you no CP3 tho
>Assists low, gunning persists, can't coexist yo
>You ballhog guards played out, freezing your running mates
>out
>Superstar turned flop, it bring the hate out
>Forty-nine L's get weighed, it's the only way
>To judge stars in the N-B-A, Curry winning in the Bay!
>Managing games passe, chuck from deep range, losses out the
>ass, mate!
>No free passes Ky, miss playoffs get fried
>Too many shots, waved off screens, thirty-two games won
>Eleven less than Washington
>A long ways away from a ring
>Yo, let me let y'all ballhogs know one thing
>There's one ball, one team, so the point can't be scoring
>king
>The lowlights of losing, selfish-style, no pass all shooting
>Cavs .500 when 'Rie sitting em, empty statlines, u gettin' em
>Reluctant passes you sending em, 'cause 18 shots the minimum
>Play out the string with no adrenaline, loafing around
>chillin'
>A case of no playoffs to chase, but shots plenty
>Upset any clique, with the overdribbling who want it?
>Tight handle, you flaunt it, dumb fans flock - you lace 'em
>Crossover to nowhere, still in place, between the legs
>Team out of formation standing, watching is how you have em
>Former fans jumping off the bandwagon
>Elimated, play with no passion, just dragging
>Grab the rock it's on though
>Shit is grimy, real gunners chuck and don't play right
>With the broke J, that don't spray right
>Don't give a fuck if you win as long as the board's lit
>Yo, capable teammates bug cause they ain't getting shit
>Chucking-ass Australian, stay on that gunner-shit
>
>
>You never pass, unless it's the only option left
>You ain't the type of brother made to start passing!
>


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Lately I've had the strangest feeling.... that you were GOOOONNNNEEEE