2pac – str8 ballin

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“str8 ballin”

i would share the definition of balling
with you white folks but now…
the game is to be sold not told
so f-ck you.


i’m up before the sunrise, first to hit the block.
little bad motherf-cker with a pocket full of rocks.
and i’m totin’ these thangs, get my skinny little -ss kicked.
and n-gg-s laugh, ’til the first motherf-cker got blasted.
i put the n-gg- in his casket,
now they coverin’ the b-st-rd 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, f-ck them hos.
got a 45 screamin’ about survival.
hey n-gg- 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 n-gg-‘s back, missin’ me by inches.
and they say how do you survive weighin’ 165
in a city where the skinny n-gg-s die?
tell mama don’t cry.
even when they kill me,
they can never take the game from a young g.
i’m st8 ballin’!

st8 ballin’!

still on parole and i’m the first n-gg- servin’
pour some liquor on the curb for my n-gg-s 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 a villian’, 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 with ’em ridin’ it like it’s a benz.
i hit the strip let my music b-mp,
drinkin’ liquor, and i’m lookin’ for some hoes to f-ck.
rather die makin’ money than live poor and legal
as i slang another ounce, i wish it was a kilo.
a need money in a major way.
time to f-ck my beach! hey! and gettin’ paid
you other motherf-ckers callin’,
but me and my motherf-cking thug n-gg-s,
we st8 ballin’!!

st8 ballin’!

d-mned if i don’t, and d-mned if a n-gg- do.
so watch a young motherf-cker pull a trigger just to raise up!
but don’t let them see you cry, dry your eyes
young n-gg- time to do or die.
i keep a pistol in my pocket,
ready on my block.
ain’t no time for a n-gg- to even c-ck sh-t.
and now they see that motherf-cker beat pain,
at point blank range ’cause he slept on the game.
ain’t a d-mned 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. n-gg-.
better live your life to the fullest,
you’re ’bout to kill a fool, got a pistol motherf-cker better pull it.
’cause even when they kill me,
they can never take the game from a young g.
we st8 ballin’!

we st8 ballin’!

to my n-gg-s in the penitentiary,
locked up like a motherf-cker when they mention me.
’cause you’re f-ckin’ with the realest motherf-cker ever born,
and once again it’s on,
i’m bustin’ on these b-tches till they’re gone.
who the h-ll can you get to stop me?
i’m in the projects, parlaying with my posse.
i keep my glock c-cked
i need it ’cause they’re all shady.
i finally made it
now these jealous b-tches tryin’ to fade me!
i ain’t goin’ out i’d rather blast back.
i’m on the corner with my n-gg-s watchin’ cash stack.
and i came up a long way from food stamps.
and takin’ sh-t from the low-life ghetto tramps.
could you blame me if they sweat me i’m gonna open fire?
what could i do? pull my trigger or watch my n-gg- die.
i’m representin’ to the fullest givin’ devil slugs.
i’m on the block slangin’ drugs with the young thugs.
and motherf-cker, we be ballin’!
all motherf-cking day long, stay strong!
we st8 ballin’.

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