Paul Wall: Big ball

I'm ballin baby ["big ballin" - repeat and stutter]Gridiron on the beatBig house, big carHoes everywhere, ice everywhere, money everywhereI'm ballin man, I ain't bragginI'm just tellin you what it is like, I'm ballinKnahmtalkinbout? Whattup {?}I see you on the beat mo' betta[Paul Wall]I'm comin down, candy paint, sprayed by that Eddie12 coats of that clear lookin like some grape jellyMy paint's drippin wet, my slab is superbPark the truck and catchin boppers down here in this dirty thirdI hold it down for the block bleeders workin overtimeNot concerned at all with petty shit, I'm occupied on the grindI keep my mind on breakin bread, makin chess moevs, thinkin aheadI soaked up game at a early age, I'm built for this, I'ma seasoned vetSwangers symbolize respect, cain't just anybody tip on VoguesThey'll catch you slippin in the turnin lane, and leave ya ass naked walkin homeCandy on chrome is how I drive, with screens fallin in the back of the rideMy music screwed and my drank is purple, go and take a sip I'd be obligedI'm comin straight from the land of the fry, the city of syrup and the home of ScrewI'm on the block with my potnah Gooch, stashin cash in my Reebok shoeWhat that do I can't complain, the candy gloss drippin off the frameBall in the mix I'm off the chain, it's goin down H-Town[Chorus 4X: Paul Wall]I'm big ballin baby, yeahhh, and I'm spendin cheeseI'm on my grind all day makin money with ease[Paul Wall]I'm grippin on that woodgrain, I'm sippin on that good drankI'm showin love to every side and every neighborhood mayneI got them neon lights glowin, representin my blockI'm on that 59 South, ridin with my trunk poppedFrom that Homestead to that Spice Lane, I'm on Scott, in the turning laneI'm headed straight to that Timmy Chan's, order up and let's get some wangsNew Hawk on that chan-nel, I'm on that dolly rightOn the way to my gran-ty house, I'm navigated by bubble lightsI'm teded{?} by that junior, I'm cut up by White MikeBusted up by that Mr. Davis, sluggin me is a beautiful nightThat chrome is quite atrocious, complimented by candy glossI'm tiptoein on fo' swangers, eighty-fo's like Randy MossOpen mouth and show platinum grill, it's like a disco ballI got expensive tastes, courtesy of expensive jawsThey see me comin grill and woman, truck bumpinKnockin pictures off the wall is nuttin cause I'm a baller[Chorus][Paul Wall]When the speakers start bumpin and that fifth relaxI make the trunk dance around like it's doin jumpin jacksI'm ridin on them Spyders, them eighty-fo's tiptoeinAnd that trunk is exaulted with them neon lights glowinThe candy paint's immaculate, drippin wet up off the fenderBeat the block up like a boxer, chop the street up like a blenderI got the flat screens fallin down from the ceilingAnd the platinum mouthpiece with diamonds in the fillingI'm big ballin, grippin grain, breakin bread, I'm stackin changeGettin money I'm havin thangs with two commas, I can't complainDrippin candy paint, off the frame, switchin lanesIn the turning lane leavin stains, cause I'm a baller[Chorus]