[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