Paul Wall Big Ballin' Lyrics

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I'm ballin' baby ("big ballin'")
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
Know'm talkin' bout? What up ?
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 ****, 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'ma seasoned vet
Swangers symbolize respect, cain't just anybody tip on Vogues
They'll catch you slippin' in the turnin' lane, and leave ya *** 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

[Chorus: x4]
I'm big ballin' baby, yeah, and I'm spendin' cheese
I'm on my grind all day makin' money with ease

I'm grippin' on that wood grain, I'm sippin' on that good drank
I'm showin' love to every side and every neighborhood man
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 wings
New Hawk on that channel, I'm on that dolly right
On the way to my gran-ty house, I'm navigated by bubble lights
I'm teded 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 nothin' 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' things 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


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