Spice 1 - Ballin текст песни

Chorus:

Ill be a baller til I die

Ill be ballin to my grave nigga, I die a paid nigga

Ill be a baller til I die

Ill be ballin to my grave nigga, I die a paid nigga

Ill be a baller til I die

Ill be ballin to my grave nigga, I die a paid nigga

Ill be a baller til I die

Ill be ballin to my grave nigga, I die a paid nigga

Spice 1:

Some niggas be all up in my shit, you need to quit

Sprinkle a motherfucker that will leave you split

Tore back ass out bringing you your hat

Flat broke, talking about fuck that nigga s-p-i

But you cant go one on one spice 1 because Im born

To die

I gets even up on they ass like punk bitches in ditches

The gangsterism resulting in murderism

Bailing up in your hooptie at the gas station

You facing the killer for real-a punk ass nigga

Where the scrilla

Jacking you for your shit, taking your ends pull off

My mask

Hitting the corner, hopping up in my benz with your

Cash

Mobbing I mash out, you ass out

Left you shot up in your seven-trey glasshouse

Because you dont know me like you think you do, im

Down for thefetty

Ready to die for them presidents, high powered and

Deadly

I ask to ball or not to ball, partner answer the

Question

I meet a nigga running up on my hooptie with smith

And wesson

Chorus

Yukmouth:

One time for your mind

Here to represent the pimps, playas, hustlas, ballers

All my niggas on the grind, packing nine millimeters

Nine lives like cheetahs, but your still in ? ? ?

Drug dealers peep the shit that I kick

Hustling, busting down zips making chips

If we aint making it we taking shit

To the extreme hit the scenery with machine

Gun, get the creamery and ice cream, nobody scream

Nobody run, I come like point blank

Mobbing the motherfucking bank, looking like benjamin

Frank and itake

So many penitentiary chances, to make

Scrilla scratch niggas must have more stack in the safe

I mean ? ? ? , nigga your safe is my safe

And Im gonna make sure that my safe aint your safe

By putting a .38 up in your face

For running up in my place and shake the spot

And not expect to get your ass shot

Yeah, another one bites the dust, the shyster busts

Caps at your house

Matter fact, niggas dont like the yukmouth

About to l-u, didnt they tell you

Im a youngster trying to have something like my

Nigga l-q

Ballin

Chorus

Spice 1:

Its the motherfucking east bay g with the hundred

Clipper, savage thugnigga

See I was born with the lust for money, chrome plated

Triggers

Mob style haulering 187 up in your face

Put a gauge between your throat and tell you that

Your out of place

Motherfuckers dont be knowing we vicious and vicious

To get the cheese

More tickets to gs, cruises overseas

Cant be no punk about the shit that were in

Got to be a soldier to the game or nigga youll never

Get your dividends

Balling til I die, until I die Ill be a baller

Let my riders do the dirt and Ill be the shotcaller

Whatever I got to do for the lifestyle thatll pay

Them forever

Never slip stay on my toes nigga walk with the yellow

Stripe

But pull me back, because they cowards and shit

I be the nigga that take your drama and put a twist

In your the shit

Caps get slapped with steel, hot slugs will be your

Meal

Fucking around with my money is just going to get

Your ass killed

Interlude