Ballin - Starlito, Juicy J, Kevin Gates

I’m ballin' ballin' ballin' bitch

Don’t know what else to call this shit

All this gualas I brought with me

I fuck around and spend all this shit

I fuck around spend all this shit, I’m ballin' ballin' ballin' bitch

I fuck around spend all this shit

I’m ballin' ballin' ballin' bitch

Don’t know what else to call this shit

All this gualas I brought with me

I fuck around and spend all this shit

I fuck around spend all this shit, I’m ballin' ballin' ballin' bitch

I fuck around spend all this shit

I started off fucked up, finally got my weight up

Still trying to figure out what the fuck you hating for

When I come around it feel just like an appraisal

Independent nigga getting it in just like the majors

Thumbing through the checks feel like a nigga turning pages

If you was cool and ain’t no more, you’ve done us both a favor

Eighties baby, grew up on a pistol and a pager

Got a free quarter ounce, I bet a hundred on the Lakers

I should say against them, you know I’m riding with the Heat

At the corner store with my box Chevy

Box of rubbers, box of swisher sweets

Still got a bitch that got a bitch that’ll get your bitch to leave

Switch up freaks like I swap my whips, that shit ain’t real as shit to me

I get to the money partner, you too broke to talk to me

I been counting up all this week, on top of my shit like a toilet seat

I’m rich just like I oughta be, and being real don’t cost a fee

Tell your girl come ride with me

Dick buffet, all she can eat

Loud pack in a mason jar, drive slow in a race car

This yellow bitch I’m in traffic with

She fine as shit and she paid for

Nah this ho can’t be my wife, just make sure you roll my weed up right

Made my eyes so low, it looks like I’m gonna cook me fried rice

I’m ballin, ballin, ballin, bitch

In a car that costs like 40 bricks

Bought a case of sprite and Imma pour codeine in all this shit

These niggas ain’t trill, these niggas policing on the low

Take a nigga’s bitch, and leave the club

But he can put an APP on that ho

Screeching, no reason

Saved by the bell, this bitch to the right

Pretty face, tall, white, with a smile like Lisa

Big booty diva

Broke a brick down, need a band of zap

And three hundred for the O’s of reefer

Twenty five bags of the OG kush and the grandaddy purp come weekly

Xans and tabs in the air, no slab, but thank god for my people

On the road doing show after show after show and I still eat good off features

Clunking, gold, and tweaking if the streets ain’t got no lean

Say they bought like nine 50 for the seal I say I need it

Took time, this crook’s fine, had bad karma, I shook mine

Jab good, slip excellent, uppercuts, my hook’s fine

Refrigeration, illustration, ice on, got niggas hating

Foreign whip, foreign bitch, what that is, immigration

Overcooked dope bags cocaine

If it cook too long then they may complain

Dope game both lanes, won’t say no names

Don’t make propane, won’t make no change

From the ghetto work that’s why I’m ballin, I’m ballin

If you’ve got a problem with it I ain’t sorry, I ain’t sorry

I’m ballin' ballin' ballin' bitch

Don’t know what else to call this shit

All this gualas I brought with me

I fuck around and spend all this shit

I fuck around spend all this shit, I’m ballin' ballin' ballin' bitch

I fuck around spend all this shit

I’m ballin' ballin' ballin' bitch

Don’t know what else to call this shit

All this gualas I brought with me

I fuck around and spend all this shit

I fuck around spend all this shit, I’m ballin' ballin' ballin' bitch

I fuck around spend all this shit