Interpret:

Paul Wall

Album:

"The Peoples Champ"

I'm ballin baby ["big ballin" - repeat and stutter]
 Gridiron on the beat
 Big house, big car
 Hoes everywhere, ice everywhere, money everywhere
 I'm ballin man, I ain't braggin
 I'm just tellin you what it is like, I'm ballin
 Knahmtalkinbout? Whattup {?}
 I see you on the beat mo' betta


[Paul Wall]
 I'm comin down, candy paint, sprayed by that Eddie
 12 coats of that clear lookin like some grape jelly
 My paint's drippin wet, my slab is superb
 Park the truck and catchin boppers down here in this dirty third
 I hold it down for the block bleeders workin overtime
 Not concerned at all with petty shit, I'm occupied on the grind
 I keep my mind on breakin bread, makin chess moevs, thinkin ahead
 I soaked up game at a early age, I'm built for this, I'ma seasoned vet
 Swangers symbolize respect, cain't just anybody tip on Vogues
 They'll catch you slippin in the turnin lane, and leave ya ass naked walkin home
 Candy on chrome is how I drive, with screens fallin in the back of the ride
 My music screwed and my drank is purple, go and take a sip I'd be obliged
 I'm comin straight from the land of the fry, the city of syrup and the home of Screw
 I'm on the block with my potnah Gooch, stashin cash in my Reebok shoe
 What that do I can't complain, the candy gloss drippin off the frame
 Ball 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 cheese
 I'm on my grind all day makin money with ease


[Paul Wall]
 I'm grippin on that woodgrain, I'm sippin on that good drank
 I'm showin love to every side and every neighborhood mayne
 I got them neon lights glowin, representin my block
 I'm on that 59 South, ridin with my trunk popped
 From that Homestead to that Spice Lane, I'm on Scott, in the turning lane
 I'm headed straight to that Timmy Chan's, order up and let's get some wangs
 New Hawk on that chan-nel, I'm on that dolly right
 On the way to my gran-ty house, I'm navigated by bubble lights
 I'm teded{?} by that junior, I'm cut up by White Mike
 Busted up by that Mr. Davis, sluggin me is a beautiful night
 That chrome is quite atrocious, complimented by candy gloss
 I'm tiptoein on fo' swangers, eighty-fo's like Randy Moss
 Open mouth and show platinum grill, it's like a disco ball
 I got expensive tastes, courtesy of expensive jaws
 They see me comin grill and woman, truck bumpin
 Knockin pictures off the wall is nuttin cause I'm a baller


[Chorus]


[Paul Wall]
 When the speakers start bumpin and that fifth relax
 I make the trunk dance around like it's doin jumpin jacks
 I'm ridin on them Spyders, them eighty-fo's tiptoein
 And that trunk is exaulted with them neon lights glowin
 The candy paint's immaculate, drippin wet up off the fender
 Beat the block up like a boxer, chop the street up like a blender
 I got the flat screens fallin down from the ceiling
 And the platinum mouthpiece with diamonds in the filling
 I'm big ballin, grippin grain, breakin bread, I'm stackin change
 Gettin money I'm havin thangs with two commas, I can't complain
 Drippin candy paint, off the frame, switchin lanes
 In the turning lane leavin stains, cause I'm a baller


[Chorus]