Lyrics Ballaholic - E-40

Ballaholic

You know my.
my whole def-a-nation is to spit straight game
You dig that?
(Straight game) I I come from the game baby y’know
I come from this motherfucker, you undersmell that?
Aya, and you know, it’s like this nigga
Pimped-out all day you know Hillside Vallejo nigga
You undersmell me?
Been speakin the real for many moons
My niggas in the 7−0-7 on down to Compton
I’m in my FUBU drawers, she in her gown
Cause if some cats tryin to have at me
I sick the canine in the background
I’m plannin on splittin my crown but it ain’t gon' be too simple
See I’m a baller, I got bars around the window
Rottweilers, pits, aikietas, doberman pischers tanked up in the yard
With a sign on the fence that reads «warning: beware of dog!»
You play the frog if you feel froggish nigga leap
I neglect my dogs, starvin, sometimes they don’t eat
Elroy speak to me about my triple-beam;
officer, I got proof
Po'-po', that’s for weighin nuts and fruits
Run with a whole bunch of rugged rowdy-ass knuckleheads, knahwhatImean?
Big nigga, the size of a football team
I wear these glasses so that I can look like a square
But if you ever see me in a fight with a bear
Don’t help me nigga, help the bear!
Me and my wales, we be coonin
But see you the type of the nigga that’ll go in the backroom
And beep yo’self and act like yo' pager boomin
Yeah man, cause a real tycoon
Gon' take this shit from the flo' to the moon
Still Northstar ridin, six-oh strikin
Switch up V-S cherry chokin the wrist and the pinkie
But keep it loose around the neck and make sure hoes in check
So if you gon' fill a nigga cup, fill it up with paper
Cause we ballaholics bitch, ain’t that quiet about this shit
If you’re on it spend it like you mean it
Uhh, I’ll have you
Ever since I was ankle low to a centipede’s claw
I always wanted to play pro-baseball
Weepolization family, that’s my favorite sport
But instead I’m back and forth to jail and in and out of court
BEOTCH!
Serious about my rock shrine
I don’t give a fuck how much courage juice you had
Nigga yo' mug don’t mean like mine!
I bring the noise like a cymbal
I fuck with 40 dem, make you stick your pistol out the window
BEOTCH!
Y’all oughta see me at the state fair
Showin off in front of my broad;
tryin to win my lil' nieces
One of the biggest stuffed animal prizes there
Nicknamed Charlie but my street name is Earl
Ballaholic like Felix Mitchell nephew Lil' Darrell
I know these streets like the Task Force know dope
I am the streeets, my ghetto pass can’t be revoked
Ten percent, I paid my tithes, forgive me for my sins
Smoke an ounce of weed a day, maybe that’s why I ain’t go no ends
You see, you niggas real truant mayne
Runnin around here puttin a black eye in the game
When we tryin to feed y’all somethin nutritional for the brain
And nourish yo' game
You see there’s two type of niggas in this world:
Those that eat and those that don’t
What type of nigga is you, you know?
You see we got the tycoon status
Big hogs, tryin to pile the money up out your trash
You dig?
You can call me Lawry’s cause I’m seasoned
I eat crevice, but not when it’s bleeding
Don’t get me wrong, I love sex but I don’t play that part
I love Virginia, but not when the Virginia’s tart
Toss me good, and I might Dolce and Gabbana it
Gave yo' ass some bread, and let you go buy up some shit
Callin yourself takin advantage of my riches
I’m tryin to be nice to yo' ass
I normally talk bad about you bitches
Invested to «Tha Hall of Game» buggin and bein notorious
For slappin chickenheads upside they weave-a with my Nokia
Mayday mayday, callin all patrol cars and units
Be on the lookout for the Hillside managler, 40-Water the Ballaholic
I’D RATHER FLY THAN RIDE AMTRAK
When I’m in Dallas I fuck with (?), and go hard black
Make an opera singer wanna write some raps
Papered up — like who?
Like a fax BEOTCH
I know you didn’t say papered up like a fats
(Yeah I did, yeah I did) Yeah, cause we do this shit
Up off the ground on a pitcher’s mound
Slidin, to the bad catcher, able to snatch ya
Bat yo' G out the pocket
Run it again with a nigga that’s in the socket
And it ain’t my problem, if the ho hollerin
We all about dollars, and collar-poppin
Nigga, BEOTCH!!!
Baller, let me explain to you, a ballaholic nigga
Undersmell this nigga
If you got your ve-hi-cle in your baby’s momma’s name
Nigga youse a ballaholic, nigga you undersmell me?
Please believe in a nigga
Ballaholic nigga, you undersmell me?
If you sittin on gold tennis shoe slippers nigga
You undersmell me?
Youse a ballaholic
Don’t ever get it twisted nigga, yeah
If you put ten thousand down on some je-wels nigga
Over at your house nigga in Frisco nigga
And go back and get it the next day, youse a ballaholic
You smell that nigga?
Ballaholics nigga
Ballaholics fuck with Sic-Wid-It records nigga
Ballaholics listen to that mob shit nigga
We stick to the rules and regulations of this motherfuckin game
You undersmell that?
Please believe it, bitch-ass niggas
IF YOUSE A BALLAHOLIC, nigga (scream it like you mean it)
Youse a baller, please believe that
That’s what a ballaholic is nigga
We ball til we have it all you undersmell that?
Rick Rock, youse a ballaholic?
My nigga, my nigga D-Wiz a ballaholic
Don’t ever get it twitted nigga
My nigga Kaveo in the motherfucker with me you undersmell that?
We some fools with it
My nigga Steve Garvey, (??), you undersmell that?
And that nigga Muggsy you know he’s a fuckin ballaholic
Gold-tooth motherfuckin pretty boy Floyd ass nigga
I love you to death motherfucker, fuck ya though
Fuck ya fuck ya fuck ya I’m in this MOTHERFUCKER FOR LIFE!
V. A. L-L-H-O, L-I-C, it’s me E-Feeze-E
L-I-C, it’s me E-Feeze-E
BALLAHOLIC BEOTCH!!!