C-Bo

Professional Ballers

C-Bo


featuring Marvaless Pizzo Mac Mall JT Tha Bigga Figga Killa Tay 

[Marvaless] 
Yeah ladies first so watch me set it off even the brothers can't touch us 
Professional Ballers is what they call us ain't no tellin who we're bailin 
Kentucky Texas ATL strikin in a Lexus 
The nigga that wanna test this 
Thought this shit was shut down thought this shit was dead like Makaveli 
Cali legends keep it goin, bout this player shit I'm knowin 
Haters, I know you're bumpin this shit so here's another *?daltz?* 
From the Bay to the SCC, you heard us straight from California's most 

[Pizzo] 
We don't need no practice, no theatrics 
bout the way we be livin with the Mafia tactics, I be constantly at it 
Tryin to stack my riches like Bill Gates 
Servin raw and uncut caine so you can't hate 
Because it angers me when niggas try to bite my ass 
But we be Professional Ballers hittin at the top-notch ass 
Pass the green leaf on the left, inhale a breath of chronic smoke 
Exhale like a pro, I be too much for you to cope 

Chorus: C-Bo 

We steady countin our money, on a mission to ball 
All the things we dream we wanna see before we call 
So we pack heavy, push Chevy's, makin the 'fetti 
If you're ready to holler at a Professional Baller 
*repeat* 

[Mac Mall] 
Baby Capone on the loose, skywalk and fly shit 
off Paraguay, Glock in the drop plus we're hidin 
astronauts, turnin in shit for the soldiers that recop 
Shoot outta state pushin killer Cali rocks 
Big wreckin ball nuts and you can notify the monks 
I be flossin in gators, maybe ??? ??? 
Tennis shoes, press our shit 
Aliens gank and flew, runnin out to see you 
with the loot 

Interlude: Killa Tay 

Yeah 
West Coast Mafia, bitch 
Everybody else can suck a dick 

[Killa Tay] 
I'm steadily tryin to get my bail on 
tapped me up on the cell phone, it ain't far 
Stomped in steel toes, I look out my ??? so back up off me 
The K-I-double L-A T-A-Y, call me the locster 
Only smokes the bombest chronic, Professional Ballers like the Sonics 
Respect game, with or without these gold chains 
We're sure the West got shit sold 
from the rap game to the cocaine, come get some 
Got pounds like a kick drum, got hitmen 
Payin em under the table, lyrics fatal like a ninja 
no pretendin, we're steady ballin 

Chorus 

[C-Bo] 
From the Valley to the Bay, I'm known for stackin chips 
My 500 whip be hip with the AMG hit 
'74 drop Caprice, gold ones dip 
Candy-coated sport, Professional Ballers don't trip 
Makin moves, pushin luxuries to ol' schools 
I spit the A-1, that's why my pockets weigh a tonne 
And my crew be Mafioso's, high performance and low-lows 
Professional Ballers on the go and get more doe 

[JT Tha Bigga Figga] 
Who keep it knockin with mean choppers? My niggas keep it poppin 
We're rockin, Professional Ballers, Figga-Ro will be the tallest 
player that you spot, duck or dodge? 
It's all, turn the Impalas all skirty 
Left em deserted, heat em where their pockets hurted 
Sold it up by then, two quarters and half a flynn 
with my nigga Bo-Loc in the 500 Benz 
Ready to bust and make it happen fo' sho', so stack G's 
with them 8-ball gangstas 
and the young mack knees and that's for sheez 

Chorus