Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
2Pac
2Pac
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Quincy Hanley
Quincy Hanley
Songwriter
Mario Loving
Mario Loving
Songwriter
Tyruss Himes
Tyruss Himes
Songwriter
2Pac
2Pac
Songwriter
Claydes Smith
Claydes Smith
Songwriter
Dennis Ronald Thomas
Dennis Ronald Thomas
Songwriter
George Brown
George Brown
Songwriter
Jeannette Dubois
Jeannette Dubois
Songwriter
Jeff Barry
Jeff Barry
Songwriter
Johnny Jackson
Johnny Jackson
Songwriter
Nesbitt Wesonga
Nesbitt Wesonga
Songwriter
Otha Nash
Otha Nash
Songwriter
Richard Westfield
Richard Westfield
Songwriter
Robert Bell
Robert Bell
Songwriter
Robert Spike Mickens
Robert Spike Mickens
Songwriter
Ronald Bell
Ronald Bell
Songwriter
Vince Edwards
Vince Edwards
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Easy Mo Bee
Easy Mo Bee
Producer
Brian Gardner
Brian Gardner
Mastering Engineer
Norman Whitfield Jr.
Norman Whitfield Jr.
Engineer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
I'm up before the sunrise, first to hit the block
Lil' bad motherfucker with a pocket full of rock
Learn to throw them things, get your skinny, little ass kicked
And **** laugh till the first motherfucker got blasted
I put the **** in his casket
Now they're coverin' the bastard in plastic
I smoke blunts on the regular, fuck when it counts
I'm tryin' to make a million dollars outta quarter ounce
And gettin' ghost on the 5-0, fuck them hoes
Got a .45 screamin' out, "Survival"
Hey ****, can I lay low and cook some yayo?
Holla, "One time", when I say so
Don't wanna go to the pen, I'm hitting fences
Narcs on a **** back, missin' me by inches
And they say, "How do you survive weighing 165"
"In the city where the skinny **** die?"
Tell mama don't cry even when they kill me
They can never take the game from the young G
[Verse 2]
I'm straight ballin'
Straight ballin'
Uh, yeah, straight ballin'
Straight ballin'
[Verse 3]
I'm still on parole and I'm the first **** servin'
Pour some liquor on the curb for my **** that deserve it
But if I want to make a million, gotta stay dealin'
It's kinda boomin' 'round the way and today, I'll make a killin'
Dressin' down like I'm dirty, but only on the block
It's a clever disguise to keep me runnin' from the cops
Huh, I'm gettin' high, think I'll die if I don't get no ends
I'm in the bucket, but I'm ridin' it like it's a Benz
I hit the strip and let my music bump
Drinkin' liquor and I'm lookin' for some hoes to fuck
Rather die makin' money than live poor and legal
As I slang another ounce, I wish it was a kilo
I need money in a major way, time to fuck my biatch
Gettin' paid, ha ha ha
You other motherfuckers fallin', but me and my motherfuckin' thug ****
[Verse 4]
We straight ballin'
Straight ballin'
Yeah, straight ballin'
Straight ballin'
[Verse 5]
Damned if I don't and damned if a **** do
So watch a young motherfucker pull a trigger just to raise up
But don't let 'em see you cry
Dry your eyes, young ****, time to do or die
I keep a pistol in my pocket, ready, on my block
Ain't no time for a **** to even cock it, shit
Not a single motherfucker beat pain at point blank range
'Cause he slept on the game, ain't a damn thing changed
You 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, ****
Best to live your life to the fullest
Be quick to kill a fool, got a pistol, motherfucker, better pull it
'Cause even when they kill me
They can never take the game from a young G
[Verse 6]
We straight ballin'
Straight ballin'
Just straight ballin'
[Verse 7]
To my **** in the penitentiary
Locked up like a motherfucker when they mention me
'Cause you fuckin' with the realest motherfucker ever born
And once again, it's on, I'm bustin' on these bitches till they gone
Now who they hell can you get to stop me?
I'm in the projects, parlaying with my posse
I keep my Glock cocked, I need it 'cause they all shady
I finally made it, now these jealous bitches tryin' to fade me
I ain't goin' out, I'd rather blast back
I'm on the corner with my ****, watchin' cash stack
And I came up a long way from food stamps
And takin' shit from the low-life ghetto tramps
How could you blame me? If they sweat me, I'ma open fire
What could I do? Pull my trigger or watch my **** die
I'm representin' to the fullest, givin' devil slugs
I'm on the block slangin' drugs with the young thugs
And, motherfucker, we be ballin'
All motherfuckin' day long, stay strong
Written by: 2Pac, C. Smith, Claydes Eugene Smith, D. Thomas, Dennis Ronald Thomas, G. Brown, George Melvin Brown (Music by), Himes Tyruss Gerald, J. Barry, J. Dubois, J. Jackson, Janet Du Bois, Mario Loving, N. Wesonga Jr., Nesbitt Mayabi Wesonga Jr., O. NASH, Quincy Hanley, R. Bell, R. Mickens, R. Westfield, Richard Allen Westfield, Robert Earl Bell (Music by), Ronald N. Bell, Tyruss Himes, V. Edwards
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