Ballin Lyrics - Singles - Spice 1

[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 

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 can't go one on one Spice 1 because I'm 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 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] 

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 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 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 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 ass 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] 

It's the motherfucking East Bay G with the hundred 

Clipper, savage thug nigga 

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 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 shit 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 shot-caller 

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 

Fucking around with my money is just going to get your ass killed