2pac - Str8 Ballin lyrics

I would share the definition of ballin' with you white folks But, now, the game if for the soldier, not, so, f** you. I'm up before the sunrise, first to hit the block, Little bad mothaf**a with a pocket full of rocks. Learn to throw them thangs, get my skinny little a** kicked, And n***as laugh til' tha first mothaf**a got blasted. I put the n***a in his casket, Now they coverin' the ba*tard in plastic. I smoke blunts on a regular, buck when it counts. I'm tryin' to make a million dollars outta quarter ounce. And gettin' lost on the five-o, f** them hos, Got a forty-five screamin' 'bout survival. Hey, n***a, can I lay low, cook some yay-yo? Hollar "one-time," when I say so. Don't want to go to the pen, I'm hittin' fences. Narcs on a n***a back, missin' me by inches. And they say how do you survive weighin' one-sixty-five In a city where the skinny n***as die? Tell Mama, don't cry. Even when they k** me, They can never take the game from a young G. I'm straight ballin'! Straight ballin'! Straight ballin'! Still on parole, and I'm the first n***a servin'. Pour some liquor on the curb for my n***as that deserve it. But if I want to make a million, gotta stay dealin'. It's kinda boomin', and today I'll make a k**in'. Dressin' down like I'm dirty, but only on the block, It's a clever disguise to keep me runnin' from the cops. Ha, I'm gettin' high. I think I'll die if I don't get no ends. I'm in a bucket, but I'm ridin' it like it's a Benz. I hate to stip, but let my music bump, Drinkin' liquor, and I'm lookin' for some hos to f**. Rather die makin' money than live poor and legal, As I slang another ounce, I wish it was a kilo! I need money in a major way, Time to f** my Beyatch! Hey, and gettin' paid. You other mothaf**as fallin', But me, and my mothaf**in' thug n***as, We straight ballin'! Straight ballin'! Straight ballin' Damned if I don't, and damned if a n***a do, So watch a young mothaf**a pull a trigga just to raise up! But don't let them see you cry - dry your eyes Young n***a, time to do or die. I keep a pistol in my pocket, Ready, on my block Ain't no time for a n***a to even co*k it - sh**. And I done seen that mothaf**a beat pain, At point blank range, 'cause he slept on the game. Ain't a damned thing changed. Shakin' the dice, now roll 'em, If you can't stand pain better hold 'em, 'Cause ain't no tellin' what you might roll. You might go catch AIDS from a slight cold, n***a. Best to live your life to the fullest, Be quick to k** a fool, got a pistol, mothaf**a, better pull it. 'Cause even when they k** me, They can never take the game from a young G. We straight ballin'! Straight ballin'! Straight ballin'. To my n***as in the penitentiary, Locked up, like a mothaf**a, when they mention me, 'Cause you f**in' with the realest mothaf**a ever born, And once again it's on, I'm bustin' on these b**hes till they gone. Who the hell can you get to stop me? I'm in the projects, parlaying with my posse. I keep my glock co*ked, I need it, 'cause they're all shady. I finally made it, Now these jealous b**hes tryin' to fade me! I ain't goin' out, I'd rather blast back. I'm on the corner, with my n***as, watchin' cash stack. And I came up a long way from food stamps, And takin' sh** from the low-life ghetto tramps. Could you blame me? If they sweat me I'm a open fire. What could I do? Pull my trigga, or watch my n***a die. I'm representin' to the fullest, givin' devil slugs. I'm on the block, slangin' d** with the young thugs. And, mothaf**a, we be ballin'! All mothaf**in' day long, stay strong! We straight ballin'.