Lletres: King Tee. Thy Kingdom Come. Big Ballin' (Playin' 2 Win).

(feat. RC)

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

[Verse 1: King Tee]
Straight hustlin' going on, now, let's begin
The master of the ceremony just walked in
With his little homies and the fifth of Hin'
No hatin' in my game cause I'm playin' to win
Now, niggaz need to know I've been a G since six
Breakin' fools off when they step up in my mix
Catch a young nigga with some brand new kids
Many comin' up out of him, holdin' his lips
Just a real young nigga but I threw them like spinks
Blew them black Gulf hats and turned to your slings
Moved up the Leather Coat got my bitch wearin' wings
Sittin' in the Coupe' - smokin' pounds a day
Just because I got chips I remained the same
Niggaz 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 contral 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 games begin
Let's get down

[Chorus: RC]
It's that's how'd 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 Tee]
Soon as I pull the Lex-o out the garage
Player haters run to get the fuck out of the Dodge
I tried to shoot to gain but they tried to act hard
They chose is live small while I gots to live large
Don't tell these hoes that I'm broke, nigga please
I never leave my crib without at least three Gs
Lookin' like a nigga just shift twenty ki's
Keep myself distant from tiks and flees
Keep type of tire bald head like Shenay
Fuck tellin, Condo Rolex is parvay
King Tee is the nigga that them punks can't fade
They're tryin' change each hood as I'm tryin' to stay paid
(*female laughter*)
I treat the Benz like the old girl friend
Hook that hoe up and let my niggaz 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

[Chorus: RC w/ variations]
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 Tee]
Straight fact, I push up on the mic with more heat
Warning mothafuckers that we can't be beat
From Compton, on up to east Long Beach
That nigga King Tee makes the drive-by complete (*Gun Shot*)
I know you've been told, we got the Westcoast sold
I know you've been taught, we can't be caught
So if you're lookin' for them T's on the westside trippin'
Probably in the Rag '64 just dippin'
The ave is 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
Niggaz get smoked tryin' to fuck with my supply
And I supply, what you can't go by
That westcoast gangster funk, it won't die
Niggaz might lyin' but I tell you the truth
The Hup City is in the house, settin' fire to the roof
Let's get down

[Chorus: RC w/ minor variations]
Yes, that 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'
Everything is been 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'