Ballin' lyrics - G-Unit

[Hook - 50 Cent:]

Until God calls for me I'mma keep ballin', keep on ballin'

To my niggas and my bitches looking down on me

I know y'all see me when I'm ballin'

You know I got to keep ballin'

Till the FEDs come we ballin' out

Y'all niggas y'all know what this about when I'm ballin'

That stash house, we in and out

We ballin', ballin', ballin', we shot callin'

[Tony Yayo:]

Versace down from my head to my neck

Pootie Tang with the belt game, show some respect

All these bitches on my dick, same, old shit

R.I.P. to Pimp C, I'm the same, old pimp

Fly over seven different time zones

I got a big booty bitch up in shroom zone

Got emergency blunts when I come home

Cause if rap or weed I'll have your lungs gone

Yeah, Malibu beaches, unlaced bikini bottoms

Mo' money, mo' problems, fo' fo' will solve 'em

Just every day I'm with a stank sip, 30 in the clip

Riding through that Gaza Strip, kill a nigga quick

Hit a nigga with my race car, Tony Yayo turn to Tony Stewart

Rap niggas die over music

[Young Buck:]

Just got this brand, new chopper and I'm dying to use it

Dry snitching niggas testifying in their music

I seen niggas last five minutes then they lose it

Wrap the sheet around his neck, he said, "this time I couldn't do it"

A platinum nigga in the penitentiary going, "do it"

Put Prada on the prison yard, started getting to it

Two zero's, six, six, nine, 'o seven five

That's the number that they gave me when I arrived

It's just another form of slavery that's in disguise

To all my niggas locked up just trying to survive, I know why

[Hook]

[Kidd Kidd:]

I'm yelling money over bitches, money over everything

Money got me everything, every watch, every chain

Every brick, every whip, kicks with designer names

I used to hustle Texas whose child I can claim

Paid all my mama's bills so how can she complain?

Call my bitches dimes, I treat 'em like loose change

Call me Brian in the clutch, ballin' with my English brain

No love, got it out the mud, my shirt ain't got a stain

Iced out Rollie, three fingers reppin' Rida Gang

Entire streets in the streets so them hoes know I came

[Lloyd Banks:]

Ballin' on these hoes all the time

You got your kids, don't need mine

Word to my favorite design, my mama raised me to shine

These C-notes play in my mind, they on rewind

I am top five alive, I've been picked out by God

I'm never not on my job, too hard to argue that

Shining my records like, "where's my target at?"

Came through your stereo, feel me charging back

I owe you 15 bums for that

Stains in the garden, hate when they all go black

Cracks in the armor, this reach further than rap

Before we start react, mob attack

Stacks or don't call me, rain down 'til nobody standing

Won't show no snipe for your army

[Hook]