Artist: G-Unit Album: The Beast Is G-Unit Song: Ballin' Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com [Chorus: 50 Cent singing] Until God calls for me I'ma keep ballin, keep on ballin To my niggaz and my bitches lookin down on me I know y'all see me, when I'm ballin [Interlude: 50 Cent] You know I got to keep ballin - 'til the Fed's come we ballin out Y'all niggaz 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 that rapper weed, 'll have your lungs gone Yeah, Malibu beaches, unlaced bikini bottoms Mo' money, mo' problems, fo'-fo' will solve 'em Guiseppe down with a stank zip, 30 in the clip Ridin through that Gaza Strip, kill a nigga quick Hit a nigga with my race car, Tony Yayo turn to Tony Stewart Rap niggaz die over music [Young Buck] Just got this brand new chopper and I'm dyin to use it Dry snitchin niggaz testifyin in they music I seen niggaz 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 goin THROUGH IT! Put Prada on the prison yard and started gettin to it! Two-zero-six-six-nine-oh-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 niggaz locked up just tryin to survive, I know why [Chorus] [Interlude] [Kidd Kidd] Uh, I'm yellin money over bitches, money over everythang Money got me everythang, every watch, every chain Every brick, every whip, kicks with designer names I used to hustle taxes, whose child I could claim? Paid all my momma bills, so how could she complain? All my bitches 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 Roley, three fingers reppin Rida Gang Tire streaks in the streets so them hoes know I came [Lloyd Banks] Uh, ballin on these hoes all the time, you got yo' kids, don't need mine Word to my favorite design, my momma 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 Shinin my records like, "Where's my target at?" Came through your stereo feel me chargin back, I'm gon' need 15 bombs for that Stage in the Garden, hear when they all go black Cracks in the armor, hug these beats, squads in rap Before we start, react, mob attack Stacks it don't calm me Rain down 'til nobody's standin, won't show no snipe to yo' army [Chorus] [Interlude] - 2X