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[Featuring Killa Tay  JT Tha Bigga Figga] 
We dump slugs  and fuck thugs for their drugs 
When push come to shove ain't no motherfuckin love 
Bow down  we just hit the town 
But we brung shit like Hitler  bail em with a Sigma 
Switch with the first shot  gotta check the spot 
Burnin rubber out the parkin lot  pointin out the window 
Stuck off indo  bumpin my nigga C Bo 
Bitches all in my business cos they think I move kilo's 
I, call my people's on the mobile, gang all over, nationwide 
distribution 
Now I'm posted up in Houston 
Texas, ridin the Lexus but it's supremo 
Niggas set trip, a solo weapon is essen(tial) 
Keep the pepper spray on my car keys, only fuck with hard Gz 
Still get my ball on like Clark 
Nothin but the California hoggin me 
Touchin triggers, real niggas, straight doggin freaks 
Chorus: 
Can we all ball? 
Can we all ball? 
Can we all ball? 
We take the occupation when movin, my hustle never stop 
Check what? Some babies camera's peep the blocks, stash the Glocks 
Posi's squashed, ship ki's and here there's thousand dollar bidders 
Rim hats with feathers, more money than Perry Ellis 
Never known behind ???, talkin "let my nuts hang" 
Trade ya the .4-5 and the Tek 9 for a drop Mustang 
A long line of killers, drug dealers with stripes 
Just schoolin, you're rollin pontentially, could take your advice 
We count big face and straight laces by the hundreds 
Ragtops and big blocks, gettin the money 
Sippin X-O Hen, and I get it for the 1-10 
In a convertible Benz, fearin hunted, on twins 
They call me Bo-Loc, and fo' sho' I smoke the dodo 
and flip the '97 Sport to shake the po-po 
High rollers count, tall dollars will never fall 
In this shit for the cash nigga, enter, forever ball 
Chorus 
We are surprised in this rap game 
Straight gangsta shit makes the world go round, I'm nuttin nice 
On a dice, bets are more wet and crush ice 
X-O, stretch Rolls, Bza's and Lexo's 
And fuck the best hoes, and never slippin like Magic Johnson 
Keeps my cock down, increase my hatto, from Sac to Compton 
Rolex down, fools shot up, solid ice 
The gin in the cask was still followed by the vice 
In the S-Class, we does it on the gas 
On my cell, Bo poppin my collar, all about my cash 
How many diggers can you scat? Now picture that 
without the feds on your back, homey, and that's a fact 
We attack with Mac 1-12's to protect my sack 
I pick up my pack, tellin the order "handle that" 
It ain't no room for you busters cos we knuckle ya downfall 
Player haters, fuck y'all, let these ballers all ball 
Chorus: 
Can we all ball? 
Can we all ball? 
Can we all ball? 
Can we all ball? 
Tell me, can we ball?

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