text: Yeah, Im still ballin, a bullet gotta get me
  And Ill never be a pussy cus my hoodll never let me
  Young nigga straight ballin
  Yeah bitch Im paid, thats all I gotta say
  Cant see you little niggas cause the money in the way
  And Im - Im sitting high, a gansta ride, blades
  If you aint gonna ride fly than you might as well hate
  Shit, I gotta eat, yeah, even though I ate
  No it aint my birthday but I got my name on my cake
  Shit, believe that: if your mans wanna play
  Imma fuck around and put that boys brains on the gate
  Hey pick em up! Fuck em, let em lay
  Where Im from we see a fuckin dead body everyday
  Thats - Uptown! Throw a stack at em
  Make a song about me, Im throwing shots back at em
  Ya bitch on my pipe, and she like a crack addict
  She saw me cooking eggs and she thought I was back at it
  I grab the keys, ho I gotta go
  I got my motorcycle jacket and my motorcycle locs
  Young nigga straight ballin
  Yeah, Im still ballin, a bullet gotta get me
  And Ill never be a pussy cus my hoodll never let me
  And everybody wants to see if..
  And everybody wants to see if..
  And everybody wants to see if..
  And everybody wants to see if..
  Aint no escape from a deadly fate
  And everyday theres a million black bodies put away
  Im startin to lose hope
  It seems everybodys on dope
  Mama told me to leave cause she was broke
  Sometimes I choke on the indo
  Peepin out the window alone on my own
  Im a criminal
  Got no love from the household Im out cold
  In the streets give me motherfucking peace
  I got nothing to lose
  And something to prove
  What do I do livin Thug Life nigga stay true
  I wonder when they kill me
  Is there a Heaven for a real G
  Lord forgive me if you feel me
  Cause all my life I was dirt broke
  With no hope little skinny motherfucker wantin dough
  I hated cutting suckers with my razor blade
  But everyday its a struggle to get major paid
  Anyway its so hard on a nigga in this city
  No pity and aint no love for the scrubs that be buyin dimes
  If you could walk a mile in my shoes youd be crazy too
  I thank the Lord for my many blessings
  Though Im stressin keep a vest for protection
  From the barrel of the Smith & Wesson
  And all my niggas in the pen
  Here we go again
  Aint nothing separating us but my MAC 10
  Born in the ghetto as a hustler, hold up!
  Straight soldier, buckin at them busters
  No matter how you try niggas never die
  We just retaliate with hate then we multiply
  See me striking down the block hittin corners
  Mobbin like a motherfucker livin like I wanna
  Aint no stoppin at the red lights Im sideways
  Thug Life motherfucker crime pays
  Let the cops put they lights on
  Chase me nigga
  Zig-zaggin through the freeway
  Race me nigga
  In a high speed chase with the law
  The realest motherfucker that you ever saw
  Young nigga straight ballin
  Yeah, Im still ballin, a bullet gotta get me
  And Ill never be a pussy cus my hoodll never let me
  I put hoes in NY onto DKNY
  Miami, D.C. prefer Versace
  All Philly hoes, go with Moschino
  Every cutie wit a booty bought a Coogi
  Now whos the real dookie, meaning whos really the shit
  Them niggas ride dicks, Frank White push the six
  Or the Lexus, LX, four and a half
  Bulletproof glass, tints if I want some ass
  Gonna blast squeeze first ask questions last
  Thats how most of these so-called gangsters pass
  At last, a nigga rappin bout blunts and broads
  Tits and bras, ménage à trois, sex in expensive cars
  I still leave you on the pavement
  Condo paid for, no car payment
  At my arraignment, note for the plaintiff
  Your daughters tied up in a Brooklyn basement
  Sicker than your average
  Poppa twist cabbage off instinct
  Niggas dont think shit stink
  Pink gators, my Detroit players
  Timbs for my hooligans in Brooklyn
  Dead right, if the head right, Biggie there every night
  Poppa been smooth since days of Underroos
  Never lose, never choose to, bruise crews who
  Do something to us, talk go through us
  Girls walk to us, wanna do us, screw us
  Who us? Yeah, Poppa and Puff
  Close like Starsky and Hutch, stick to clutch
  Yeah, I squeeze three at your cherry M-3
  Bang every MC easily, busily
  Recently niggas frontin, aint saying nothin
  So I just speak my piece, keep my peace
  Cubans with the Jesus piece, with my peeps
  Packin, askin who want it, you got it nigga flaunt it
  That Brooklyn bullshit, we on it