Big Ballin' - Paul Wall

I’m ballin baby

Gridiron on the beat

Big house, big car

Hoes everywhere, ice everywhere, money everywhere

I’m ballin man, I ain’t braggin

I’m just tellin you what it is like, I’m ballin

Knahmtalkinbout?

Whattup

I see you on the beat mo' betta

I’m comin down, candy paint, sprayed by that Eddie

12 coats of that clear lookin like some grape jelly

My paint’s drippin wet, my slab is superb

Park the truck and catchin boppers down here in this dirty third

I hold it down for the block bleeders workin overtime

Not concerned at all with petty shit, I’m occupied on the grind

I keep my mind on breakin bread, makin chess moevs, thinkin ahead

I soaked up game at a early age, I’m built for this, I’mma seasoned vet

Swangers symbolize respect, cain’t just anybody tip on Vogues

They’ll catch you slippin in the turnin lane, and leave ya ass naked walkin home

Candy on chrome is how I drive, with screens fallin in the back of the ride

My music screwed and my drank is purple, go and take a sip I’d be obliged

I’m comin straight from the land of the fry, the city of syrup and the home of

Screw

I’m on the block with my potnah Gooch, stashin cash in my Reebok shoe

What that do I can’t complain, the candy gloss drippin off the frame

Ball in the mix I’m off the chain, it’s goin down H-Town

I’m big ballin baby, yeahhh, and I’m spendin cheese

I’m on my grind all day makin money with ease

I’m grippin on that woodgrain, I’m sippin on that good drank

I’m showin love to every side and every neighborhood mayne

I got them neon lights glowin, representin my block

I’m on that 59 South, ridin with my trunk popped

From that Homestead to that Spice Lane, I’m on Scott, in the turning lane

I’m headed straight to that Timmy Chan’s, order up and let’s get some wangs

New Hawk on that chan-nel, I’m on that dolly right

On the way to my gran-ty house, I’m navigated by bubble lights

I’m tatted by that Junior, I’m cut up by White Mike

Busted up by that Mr. Davis, sluggin me is a beautiful night

That chrome is quite atrocious, complimented by candy gloss

I’m tiptoein on fo' swangers, eighty-fo's like Randy Moss

Open mouth and show platinum grill, it’s like a disco ball

I got expensive tastes, courtesy of expensive jaws

They see me comin grill and woman, truck bumpin

Knockin pictures off the wall is nuttin cause I’m a baller

When the speakers start bumpin and that fifth relax

I make the trunk dance around like it’s doin jumpin jacks

I’m ridin on them Spyders, them eighty-fo's tiptoein

And that trunk is exalted with them neon lights glowin

The candy paint’s immaculate, drippin wet up off the fender

Beat the block up like a boxer, chop the street up like a blender

I got the flat screens fallin down from the ceiling

And the platinum mouthpiece with diamonds in the filling

I’m big ballin, grippin grain, breakin bread, I’m stackin change

Gettin money I’m havin thangs with two commas, I can’t complain

Drippin candy paint, off the frame, switchin lanes

In the turning lane leavin stains, cause I’m a baller