Ballin lyrics

Artist  : Spice 1 
Song : Ballin



 Send "Ballin" Ringtone to your Cell 

 Chorus:
I’ll be a baller ’til I die
I’ll be ballin’ to my grave nigga, I die a
paid nigga
I’ll be a baller ’til I die
I’ll be ballin’ to my grave nigga, I die a
paid nigga
I’ll be a baller ’til I die
I’ll be ballin’ to my grave nigga, I die a
paid nigga
I’ll be a baller ’til I die
I’ll 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 motherf**ker that will leave you
split
Tore back as* out bringing you your hat
Flat broke, talking about f**k that nigga s-p-i
But you can’t go one on one spice 1 because
I’m born
To die
I gets even up on they as* like punk bit*hes in
ditches
The gangsterism resulting in murderism
Bailing up in your hooptie at the gas station
You facing the killer for real-a punk as* 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 as* out
Left you shot up in your seven-trey glasshouse
Because you don’t know me like you think you
do, i’m
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 sh*t that I kick
Hustling, busting down zips making chips
If we ain’t 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 motherf**king 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 I’m gonna make sure that my safe ain’t
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 as* shot
Yeah, another one bites the dust, the shyster
busts
Caps at your house
Matter fact, niggas don’t like the yukmouth
About to l-u, didn’t they tell you
I’m a youngster trying to have something like
my
Nigga l-q
Ballin’

Chorus

Spice 1:
It’s the motherf**king 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
Motherf**kers don’t be knowing we vicious and
vicious
To get the cheese
More tickets to g’s, cruises overseas
Can’t be no punk about the sh*t that we’re
in
Got to be a soldier to the game or nigga you’ll
never
Get your dividends
Balling til I die, until I die I’ll be a
baller
Let my riders do the dirt and I’ll be the
shotcaller
Whatever I got to do for the lifestyle that’ll
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
f**king around with my money is just going to
get
Your as* killed

Interlude