Songtexte: Andre Nickatina & Equipto. Bullet Symphony: Horns And Halos #3. Balla Race.

[Hook: x2]
You in a balla race, tryin to get all in a balla's face
Workin you hips at a balla pace
Wanna see how sweet a balla taste
You in a balla place

[Andre Nickatina:]
Man, I'm a semi-automatic, gotta get the cabbage
It's worser than religion man it's worser than a habbit
Work those heels make sue they don't break
How much dough can a sucka whick make
Roller Coaster baby let 'em ride
Do what you do but don't brake your stride
Four door car son in Las Vegas nights
My Gators so new that they still might bite
I'm gettin money, cause I run red lights
And my super witch is super tight
Man you coulda been foolin me, tryin to give me fake jewelry
Rap cat chargin choose a fee
Peel bread or you losin me, like I'm stolen, it's golden
And I'm rollin and I'm holdin
On a knot so fat she say, "Nicky do you love that"
In a mirror with the weed sack
I heard her but I didn't answer back
Man I like that little flute, remind me of Ronnie Newt
I think I'ma wear my caramel suit with the brown tie and them matching boots
Ain't that the truth, girl your vision is like chess
Ten doors down and nothin less
Freak we can ball out, never have a fall out
Roll around town no doubt with the 'Moe God Khan
Have that dough see, have that Cabana, have that Prada and Sean John

[Hook x2]

[Equipto:]
Man everything fast
Talk about bread but everything cash
Divide the dividends, devide we livin in
Mo' high than a little bit
Gotta spit the game and lace 'em with it
Me and Dreez got a race to finish
A relay, what replay, DJ don't waste a minute
The way she pop it for profits
These tricks they open they wallets
And plus they callin right after, my beezy stay in they pocket
I got it stamped to a sign, to back of my hand
And I don't just rap for fans
I'ma do it like char, Hawaii, ho in a arm
Three more in the car

[Andre Nickatina:]
Baby I cradle this, like Air Jordan dunks at Carolina
I'm right behind ya, and tryin to find ya and I remind ya . . .
Man excuse me my mouth is like an uzi
If you choose me, cause I look past all that beauty
Cause you destined to have duty
And you Shirley Temples are like candy swirls
Man all up in here is candy girls
Freak bring your friends along if they got a car and they up to par
Because my mouthpiece fast like a rabbit
Paint so swell you think you can grab it
Even magicians think it's magic
The way it's all wrapped up and packaged, baby it's a balla's race

[Equipto:]
Like a Tour De France
All in a rush ignore the past
Hop on a bus explore the map
For the homies ain't here I'd pour the Yak out
On your mark get set
Yeah, he could ball first but he ain't no threat
And I could bet that on a past line
Yeah she in last place for the last time
At a line, at a time, at a pocket
Block your mind from the gossip
It's a new day, roll tough with my hoes
A nigga show you how to pop it, that coochie
You lost your pace
And never had a taste of the Boss Soss all in your face
With no time to waste
Now let me see you chase the bread before you get replaced

[Hook x2]