50 Cent - Ballin' lyrics

[Hook: 50 Cent] Until God calls for me I'mma keep ballin', keep on ballin' To my n***as and my b**hes 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 n***as y'all know what this about when I'm ballin' That stash house, we in and out We ballin', ballin', ballin', we shot callin' [Verse 1: Tony Yayo] Versace down from my head to my neck Pootie Tang with the belt game, show some respect All these b**hes on my dick, same, old sh** R.I.P. to Pimp C, I'm the same, old pimp Fly over seven different time zones I got a big booty b**h up in shroom zone Got emergency blunts when I come home Cause that rapper weed'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, k** a n***a quick Hit a n***a with my race car, Tony Yayo turn to Tony Stewart Rap n***as die over music [Verse 2: Young Buck] Just got this brand new chopper and I'm dying to use it Dry snitching n***as testifying in their music I seen n***as last five minutes then they lose it Wrap the sheet around his neck, he said, "this time I couldn't do it" A platinum n***a 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 n***as locked up just trying to survive, I know why [Hook] [Verse 3: Kidd Kidd] I'm yelling money over b**hes, money over everything Money got me everything, every watch, every chain Every brick, every whip, kicks with designer names I used to hustle taxes, whose child I can claim Paid all my mama's bills so how can she complain? Call my b**hes dimes, I treat 'em like loose change Kobe Bryant in the clutch, ballin' with my ankle sprained 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 [Verse 4: 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'm owing you 15 bombs for that Stains in the garden, hear 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]