Steady Ballin
(专辑: Z-Ro Vs. The World - 2000)
[Talking] It's going down, straight up I'm steady balling, shot calling I'm clowning em baby [Hook] Steady balling, tonight We gon ride while we sipping and smoking Steady balling, outta control We gon swang, with the
trunk open glowing [Z-Ro] Nothing but things I'm seeing, nigga be chasing divid-ends Pimping the
pen, and I
gotta keep a
thermostat on my skin And catch a
cold, with the
motherfucking ice I'm in Big bubble lenses, at the
front of the
car We in the
club, running up a
fat run at the
bar Puffing plex, anybody get a
punch to the
jaw No soda water, got a
pint doing it raw And everyday, I
put new shoes on my feet Sugar brown ladies or red bones on my meat I'ma skip with the
rub or not, on my sheets And ride with a
big fo'-five, on my seat Pulling out the
yard, as I
drop the
top Ready for the
jackers, still gon cock the
glock Pulling up at the
club, everybody still show love But I'm still not gonna stop for bops But I'ma stop for the
drank, man po' me up Hoping to nine seven point nine, blow me up But these fellas be in it for the
competition Seem like, everybody wanna show me up But nigga fuck the
fame, cause I
want the
change Like Lil' James, leaving stains on niggaz brain I
smoke and I
lean, but still I
maintain balling mayn [Hook] [H.A.W.K.] When the
top down, I'ma drop the
rest On 8-3's, and bumper kit Candy paint, looking wet to spit Piece on my neck, read Screwed Up Click Album silver, bubble head lights Trunk gon knock, like lights of fire At the
intersection, I
run the
red lights All my jewelry, is draped in ice Crazy chain, piece and medallion Pass the
seat, or yellow stallion Pretty brown eyes, and thick thighs Half Chinese, mixed with Italian Paid for, everything cash My rear view, is in my dash Got a
pop spot, to hide my stash Hide my trunk, see the
baby gash Mild dog, is super meals Drop my top, feel the
atmosphere Tweety singing, loud and clear In my cup, is Belvedere Pockets full, of big face bills Three story pad, in Beverly Hills So much ice, you get the
chills In the
studio, I
shred the
reals [Z-Ro] Man no more struggling we bubbling, collecting with Breadwood White golf against the
click, we drop bullets and I'm ahead them We ride on top of the
ridge, like a
wide stallion Bezeltine around me neck, with the
diamond medallion [Hook] [Z-Ro] Barley moving on swangas, and knocking off the
side rolling Gotta give it up to the
Fat Pat, nigga cause we Southside holding Rolling in luxury cars, sipping on bar, talking on cellulars Receiving messages from Mars, nothing but rap stars Anybody wanna fuck with us, fuck around and get flipped up and zipped up In a
six foot ziploc, cause I
got a
glock in my right hand And I'ma flip, when I
can't even act like he wanna trip I
said it like that and I'll say it again, matter fact push record and play it again With a
bop digger then, Trae and Den in a
Benz And accepting all the
dope trafficing Got the
dope in the
trunk, and we backing in So much money, gotta back track my ends I
got the
glut opium, black cause I'm African American, Guerilla Maab gon shine for life But our motherfuckers, are dull like a
butter knife I
put it on my balls and on my life, Z-Ro never been shife Cat don't come around me, just let me ball If I
fall off my note, then let me fall Needed help from God, did he get my call Pulling out the
lot, and he let me crawl Like Mafio, by the
year two triple O
I'ma come down, in a
six double O
With green flow, mats on the
flo' Candy paint on my do', it's bout for the
hook and it go [Hook x2]