Hen-Gee - Ballin' lyrics

Artist: Spice 1 feat. Yukmouth & MC Breed (background) Album: Tha Black Bossalini Song: Ballin' * Chorus: I'll be a baller 'til I die I'll be ballin' to my grave n***a, I die a paid n***a I'll be a baller 'til I die I'll be ballin' to my grave n***a, I die a paid n***a I'll be a baller 'til I die I'll be ballin' to my grave n***a, I die a paid n***a I'll be a baller 'til I die I'll be ballin' to my grave n***a, I die a paid n***a Spice 1: Some n***as be all up in my sh**, you need to quit Sprinkle a motherf**er that will leave you split Tore back a** out bringing you your hat Flat broke, talking about f** that n***a 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 a** like punk b**hes in ditches The gangsterism resulting in murderism Bailing up in your hooptie at the gas station You facing the k**er for real-a punk a** n***a Where the scrilla Jacking you for your sh**, taking your ends pull off My mask Hitting the corner, hopping up in my Benz with your Cash Mobbing I mash out, you a** out Left you shot up in your seven-trey gla**house 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 n***a 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 n***as on the grind, packing nine millimeters Nine lives like cheetahs, but your still in ??? Drug dealers peep the sh** that I kick Hustling, busting down zips making chips If we ain't making it we taking sh** 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**ing bank, looking like Benjamin Frank and Itake So many penitentiary chances, to make Scrilla scratch n***as must have more stack in the safe I mean ???, n***a 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 a** shot Yeah, another one bites the dust, the shyster busts Caps at your house Matter fact, n***as don't like the Yukmouth About to L-U, didn't they tell you I'm a youngster trying to have something like my n***a L-Q Ballin' Chorus Spice 1: It's the motherf**ing East Bay G with the hundred Clipper, savage thugn***a 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**ers 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** that we're in Got to be a soldier to the game or n***a 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 n***a walk with the yellow Stripe But pull me back, because they cowards and sh** I be the n***a that take your drama and put a twist In your the sh** Caps get slapped with steel, hot slugs will be your Meal f**ing around with my money is just going to get Your a** k**ed Interlude