Wanna Be a Baller Lyrics was released on June 23, 1998, from the Album ‘Sittin’ Fat Down South’. The song was sung by Lil’ Troy. Wanna Be a Baller Song Lyrics are penned by Troy Lane Birklett, John Hawkins, Patrick L. Hawkins, Jarvis Lemon, Terence Glen Prejean, and Bruce Isaac Rhodes. The song labels are Universal, Republic, and Short Stop. While the song was produced by Bruce “Grim” Rhodes.
Song Credits:
| Released | June 23, 1998 |
| Album | Sittin’ Fat Down South |
| Singer | Lil’ Troy |
| Songwriter(s) | Troy Lane Birklett, John Hawkins, Patrick L. Hawkins, Jarvis Lemon, etc. |
| Producer | Bruce “Grim” Rhodes |
| Label | Universal, Republic, Short Stop |
Wanna Be a Baller Lyrics:
Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty-inch blades on the Impala
Call her, gettin’ laid tonight
Swisher rolled tight, got sprayed by Ike
I hit the highway, making money the fly way
But there’s got to be a better way!
A better way, better way, yeah
I’m a — baller, I’m a twenty-inch crawler
Blades on Impala, diamond Rottweiler
I-10 hauler, never leader not a follower
Break these boys off, I’mma twenty inch crawler
Bust a left, a right, I’m outta sight, I’m throwed
I’m bouncin’ off the road, I’m in a mode n fo dem
The chain and charm — hop out my big body foreign
Chain with the charm can’t forget Moet along
I’m hoppin’ out, I’m lookin’ good, diamonds against the wood
Man it’s understood — got money in my hood
I’m pushing big body can’t stop me
‘Fore the nine-eight got to sell a million copies
I’mma crawl slow puffin on the Optimo hit the sto’
I’mma go real slow — puffin indo out the do’
I’mma lit the stash green, man I’m lookin clean
Want remote control screens and nice byzantines
Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty-inch blades on the Impala
Call her, getting laid tonight
Swisher rolled tight, got sprayed by Ike
I hit the highway, making money the fly way
But there’s got to be a better way!
A better way, better way, yeah
Big balling, smashing, making my ends
Smoking big killer, getting high in the Benz
Big balling, smashing, making my ends
Smoking big killer, getting high in the Benz
In the wind smoke goes as I crawl down on Vogues
Twenty Lorenzo, smoke all up in my nose
Your eyes, get froze, as you see my low
Candy-red two-door, let my top down slow
Hitting, my remote, sitting, in my shit
Presidential V-12 with that AMG kit
It don’t quit, as I get high
From K.C. to H-Town, connecting Southside
Now we worldwide, watch me highside
Fat Pat blowing killer, can’t be denied
187 thugs, oh yeah we got love
Blowing sticky green with Flo, Brew and that Bub
Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty-inch blades on the Impala
Call her, getting laid tonight
Swisher rolled tight, got sprayed by Ike
I hit the highway, making money the fly way
But there’s got to be a better way!
A better way, better way, yeah
Sitting fat down South, rolling Benz on blocks
Mo’ skrilla I got, signing with ShortStop
And that’s for real, so tell me how you feel
To make a million dollars out my first record deal
ShortStop — putting up your motherfucking ear
Really really don’t give a fuck and I ain’t drinking on no beer
Codeine what I sip, pistol grip when I ride
Trunk hitting for life baby it’s Southside
We on a fucking mission, Expedition, Navigator
That’s how we be riding, alligator suitcasing
Putting it in your face, and that’s for real
Shining harder than the grill, it’s the player Lil’ Will
Down with the 2 Low, Yungstar be a thug
So nigga nigga what? I’m down with Mo’Thugs
Mo’Thugs and da Bone, you know it’s going down
Representing that H-Town, pop trunks surround by sound
Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty-inch blades on the Impala
Call her, getting laid tonight
Swisher rolled tight, got sprayed by Ike
I hit the highway, making money the fly way
But there’s got to be a better way!
A better way, better way, yeah
I gots to get better man, it gots to move on
Switched from Motorola to a PrimeCo phone
Broke in two chrome, now you know no dope pigeon
Used to count my spokes, now these hoes count my inches
Had to get older — man it got colder
I done got grown and got a chip on my shoulder
Links in Kuwait, got links in Pakistan
Boys don’t understand, virtual reality Caravan
Double doors, marble floors, naked hoes around me
Everytime I’m comin’ out, niggas they wanna sign me
Got the Lil’ Will, diamond grills in my grin
Blaze in the Benz and you can’t forget DenDen
Boobie diamond Ruby’s, I’m watchin’ on a movie
Drop the top on Scott, and you know I’m in a jacuzzi
Bourbon and I’m swervin’, man it’s gettin’ hot
My last name Lemmon, drive my tight’um off the lot, David Taylor
Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty-inch blades on the Impala
Call her, gettin’ laid tonight
Swisher rolled tight, got sprayed by Ike
I hit the highway, making money the fly way
But there’s got to be a better way!
A better way, better way, yeah
I hit the highway
Having things my way, I parlay
Everyday all day, ain’t no way
Boys can’t stop as I slide through your neighborhood
Chop chop chop, headed straight to the top
I only play to win — ’bout to close up shop
Short Stop and Dead End, pimp the pen once again
Peep the message I send
Take these levels that you devils can’t comprehend
Big body Benz — as I floss through the South
Big blue lens — now whatcha talkin about?
Close yo’ mouth — as I settle our scores
Scream and shout — my similes and metaphors
Mansion doors — I constantly close
All you hoes — go and take off your clothes
Lord knows — ain’t no time to play
Commence the fuckin and-a suckin on the H.A.W.K
Wanna be a baller, shot caller
Twenty-inch blades on the Impala
Call her, gettin’ laid tonight
Swisher rolled tight, got sprayed by Ike
I hit the highway, making money the fly way
But there’s got to be a better way!
A better way, better way, yeah