I would share the definition of ballin' with you white folks...
But, now, the game if for the soldier, not ... so, fuck you.

[Tupac]
I'm up before the sunrise, first to hit the block;
Little bad mothafucka with a pocket full of rocks.
Learn to throw them thangs; get my skinny little ass kicked,
And niggas laugh til' tha first mothafucka got blasted.
I put the nigga in his casket;
Now they coverin' the bastard in plastic.
I smoke blunts on a regular, buck when it counts.
I'm tryin' to make a million dollars outta quarter ounce.
And gettin' lost on the five-o, fuck them hos;
Got a forty-five screamin' 'bout survival.
Hey, nigga, can I lay low; cook some yay-yo?
Hollar "one-time," when I say so.
Don't want to go to the pen; I'm hittin' fences.
Narcs on a nigga back, missin' me by inches.
And they say how do you survive weighin' one-sixty-five
In a city where the skinny niggas die?
Tell Mama: don't cry.
Even when they kill me,
They can never take the game from a young G.
I'm straight ballin'!

Straight ballin'!
Straight ballin'!

[Tupac]
Still on parole, and I'm the first nigga servin'.
Pour some liquor on the curb for my niggas that deserve it.
But if I want to make a million, gotta stay dealin'.
It's kinda boomin', and today I'll make a killin'.
Dressin' down like I'm dirty, but only on the block;
It's a clever disguise to keep me runnin' from the cops.
Ha, I'm gettin' high. I think I'll die if I don't get no ends.
I'm in a bucket, but I'm ridin' it like it's a Benz.
I hate to stip, but let my music bump;
Drinkin' liquor, and I'm lookin' for some hos to fuck.
Rather die makin' money than live poor and legal,
As I slang another ounce; I wish it was a kilo!
I need money in a major way;
Time to fuck my Beyatch! Hey, and gettin' paid.
You other mothafuckas fallin',
But me, and my mothafuckin' thug niggas:
We straight ballin'!

Straight ballin'!
Straight ballin'.

[Tupac]
Damned if I don't, and damned if a nigga do,
So watch a young mothafucka pull a trigga just to raise up!
But don't let them see you cry - dry your eyes
Young nigga, time to do or die.
I keep a pistol in my pocket;
Ready, on my block
Ain't no time for a nigga to even cock it - shit.
And I done seen that mothafucka beat pain,
At point blank range, 'cause he slept on the game.
Ain't a damned thing changed.
Shakin' the dice, now roll 'em;
If you can't stand pain better hold 'em,
'Cause ain't no tellin' what you might roll.
You might go catch AIDS from a slight cold, nigga.
Best to live your life to the fullest,
Be quick to kill a fool; got a pistol, mothafucka, better pull it.
'Cause even when they kill me,
They can never take the game from a young G.
We straight ballin'!

Straight ballin'!
Straight ballin'.

To my niggas in the penitentiary,
Locked up, like a mothafucka, when they mention me;
'Cause you fuckin' with the realest mothafucka ever born,
And once again it's on;
I'm bustin' on these bitches till they gone.
Who the hell can you get to stop me?
I'm in the projects, parlaying with my posse.
I keep my glock cocked;
I need it, 'cause they're all shady.
I finally made it,
Now these jealous bitches tryin' to fade me!
I ain't goin' out, I'd rather blast back.
I'm on the corner, with my niggas, watchin' cash stack.
And I came up a long way from food stamps,
And takin' shit from the low-life ghetto tramps.
Could you blame me? If they sweat me I'm a open fire.
What could I do? Pull my trigga, or watch my nigga die.
I'm representin' to the fullest, givin' devil slugs.
I'm on the block, slangin' drugs with the young thugs.
And, mothafucka, we be ballin'!
All mothafuckin' day long; stay strong!
We straight ballin'.

Writer : HARVEY, OSTEN S/SHAKUR, TUPAC AMARU/CLINTON, GEORGE S
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group