Big Ballin’ (Playin’ to Win) lyrics

by

DJ Quik


[Intro: King T]
Ha, on the lay back

[Verse 1: King T]
Straight hustlin' going on, now, let's begin
The master of the ceremony just walked in
With his little homies and the fifth of Hen
No hatin' in my game cause I'm playin' to win
Now, n*ggas need to know I've been a G since six
Breakin' fools off when they step up in my mix
Catch a young n*gga with some brand new kicks
Man, he comin' up out of them, holdin' his lips
Just a real young n*gga but I threw 'em like Spinks
Blue and black Gulf hats and Turkish links
Moved up to leather coats, got my b*tch wearin' minks
Sittin' in the Coupe, smokin' pounds a day
Just because I got chips I remained the same
n*ggas recognize the real when I'm shootin' my game
A bullet in your chest won't be no strange
But if I put it in your brain it won't be no pain
Ballin' out of control and I can never get choked
I got a loaded Chrome .45 that I tote
Asked any hustler: T be goin' for broke?
Undercover with the locs and them luxury spoke
But, when it's time to floss, I hit the safe for some ends
Choose between the Caddi' or the Lexus or the Benz
I told you at the top, now, I tell you again
Straight hustlin' going on, let the games begin
Let's get down
[Hook: RC]
It's that's sound you can't deny
Everything we do is fly
I'm big ballin', playin' to win
Just the players stayin' true
Blowin' chronic smoke at you
Everything is ballin'

[Verse 2: King T]
Soon as I pull the Lex-o out the garage
Player haters run to get the f*ck outta dodge
I try to shoot em game but they tried to act hard
They chose to live small while I gots to live large
Don't tell these hoes that I'm broke, n*gga please
I never leave my crib without at least three Gs
Lookin' like a n*gga just shipped twenty ki's
Keep myself distant from ticks and flees
Keep type of tire bald head like Shenay
f*ck tellin', Condo Rolex is parvay
King T's the n*gga that them punks can't fade
They're tryin' change these hoodrats I'm tryin' to stay paid
(*female laughter*)
I treat the Benz like the old girlfriend
Hook that hoe up and let my n*ggas take a spin
You said you got the chronic, I break out the skin
Hustlin' going on and I'm playin' to win
Get down
[Hook: RC]
Got my whole crew comin' down
Sippin' Mo' and dodgin' clowns
I'm big ballin'
Awww yeah, just a hustler playin' true
Blowin' chronic smoke at you
Everything is ballin'

[Verse 3: King T]
Straight fact, I push up on the mic with more heat
Warning mothaf*ckers that we can't be beat
From Compton, on up to east Long Beach
That n*gga King T makes the drive-by complete *gunshot*
I know you've been told, we got the west coast sold
I know you've been taught, we can't be caught
So if you're lookin' for them G's on the west side trippin'
Probably in the rag '64 just dippin'
The ave's so hot, the CD keep skippin'
While the little homies on the block checkin' the grip
So come on by, and throw your set real high
n*ggas get smoked tryna f*ck with my supply
And I supply, what you can't go by
That west coast gangsta funk, it won't die
n*ggas might lie but I tell you the truth
The Hub City's in the house, settin' fire to the roof
Let's get down
[Hook: RC]
Yes, that's true, you can't deny
Everything we do is fly
I'm big ballin', yeah, oooh
Just the players stayin' true
Real with chronic smoke and you
Everything is ballin'

[Outro: RC]
Nah, nah, nah nah nah, we're big ballin'
Nah, nah, nah nah nah, we're big ballin'
Nah, nah, nah nah nah, we're big ballin'
Nah, nah, nah nah nah, we're big ballin'
Nah, nah, nah nah nah, we're big ballin'
Nah, nah, nah nah nah, we're big ballin'
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