(Verse 1)
Steppin’ in the hall, I’m the player with the chalk,
Eyes on the triangle, it’s hustle when I talk.
Fifteen beauties on the table, every color, every call, (whistle blows)
Every ball’s a memory, every lover—I’ve cued ‘em all.
One was innocent, yellow as the dawn
Two was real smooth, but never stuck around long.
Three was so wild—red-lip danger on the run,
Four was loyal, royal, purple in the summer sun.
(Pre-Chorus)
My stick grips tight with a swagger so slick,
Runnin’ down the felt, got ‘em feenin’ for a hit.
Each shot’s a flirtation, every bounce, every kiss,
Finesse in my fingers—love’s sealed with a wrist.
(Chorus — “Eight Ball”)
“Eight Ball! King of the scene,
Rack ‘em up, watch ‘em fall, keep it clean.
My life, my ladies, they spin and they roll,
But the black ball’s king, and he’s takin’ control.
Eight Ball! Hands on the cue,
Sexy with the stick, always breaking through.
Every number, every color—yeah, I’ve dated ‘em all,
But I save my soul for the black eight ball.”
(Verse 2)
Five was a tease, orange fire in her gaze,
Six played games, green eyes full of haze.
Seven came and went, a fleeting drop of blue—
Eight’s been waitin’, always stickin’ like glue.
Nine through fifteen, they all had their chance,
Each a lesson in rhythm, each a lover’s dance.
Stripes or solids, doesn’t matter the type,
Stackin’ all my stories, cue ball cuts like a knife.
(Bridge)
Stick in my hand—yeah, she’s lookin’ fine,
Slim walnut body, those curves divine.
Snap to the break, felt shivering with heat—
She’s the triple threat—beauty, brains, elite.
The room’s gettin’ quiet—anticipation thick,
Eyes on the king as he lines up the stick.
All those numbers, but there’s one true call—
It’s the black eight ball standing tall.
(Chorus — “Eight Ball”)
“Eight Ball! King of the scene,
Rack ‘em up, watch ‘em fall, keep it clean.
My life, my ladies, they spin and they roll,
But the black ball’s king, and he’s takin’ control.
Eight Ball! Hands on the cue,
Sexy with the stick, always breaking through.
Every number, every color—yeah, I’ve dated ‘em all,
But I save my soul for the black eight ball.”
(Outro)
So I chalk it up, take the shot, wink and smile,
Life’s a table of chances, playin’ in style.
From the glitter of the stripes to the shadow of the king,
Every ball’s a story—let the eight ball sing ( sound of a break shot)
ProducerSmith
