My Hustle Song
I wanna big big big big big, uh
I wanna big white limo,
something just hella simple that'll pop a pimple off the hardest pimp on the block.
(I want some)
Sittin high, like those video guys,
Seattle cops yellin "Cocksucka, throw the first rock sucka"
Dare you. Double dog look for trouble
Couple hooligans zoomin up 23rd and Union movin' around
Well backpack rappers glued to the ground
Shit, long as their bars rhymin, they gon keep on grindin'.
Thats what I tell em'
If you not worried 'bout ya money why you yellin'?
I can turn that pretty squirt into a felon,
All these rappers want some piece but I don't sell em,
Thats what I tell em'
Uh, 'cuz I'm a stock broker,
a box broker pot smoker,???
I'm not hearin' your suggestions I got plans of my own
and if it's not about a dollar I don't answer my phone.
How ya feel?
We 'bout to turn a dollar to a mill'
We tryna turn this into somthin' real
If you ain't about a dollar what's the deal?
We out here hustlin' fuck how ya feel thats how we feel.
Look, bad seed but believe it we done grown up now,
I remember sneakin out my house just to roll up loud,
I got some O's up hold up, what is the hold up now?
I used to sell it through the town I got a whole store now,
(Come on)
Pounds, grams, and ounces we don't deal in milligrams,
Musta hit like fifty grand off that purple mini van,
'Cuz we don't hit drugs no more, we make deals,
Sit down and shake hands over them eight course meals,
Man I got in this game like back in '05 and '06,
See back then, shit, you could get the whole five for two sips,
Move up to nine-packs I need to go find some new shit,
Now all I care abouts my warehouse, you feel me?
I'm a corner cutter, an order stuffer, get the quarter cut up,
Sorta hustler? Stand the fuck off, you better order somethin,
Man quit frontin and get ya ol' hustle up,
This is America my dude you make ya own fuckin' luck,
How ya feel?
We 'bout to turn a dollar to a mill'
We tryna turn this into somthin' real
If you ain't about a dollar what's the deal?
We out here hustlin' fuck how ya feel thats how we feel.
I'm a bud grower, blunt smoker, money thrower,
Dream's lockin, heads boppin, feds watchin',
Fist thrower, Lift roll then piff blowin,
Lane switcher, Palm? Valley nigga, uh,
I wanna big white limo,
something just hella simple that'll pop a pimple off the hardest pimp on the block.
(I want some)
Sittin high, like those video guys,
Seattle cops yellin "Cocksucka, throw the first rock sucka"
Dare you. Double dog look for trouble
Couple hooligans zoomin up 23rd and Union movin' around
Well backpack rappers glued to the ground
Shit, long as their bars rhymin, they gon keep on grindin'.
Thats what I tell em'
If you not worried 'bout ya money why you yellin'?
I can turn that pretty squirt into a felon,
All these rappers want some piece but I don't sell em,
Thats what I tell em'
Uh, 'cuz I'm a stock broker,
a box broker pot smoker,???
I'm not hearin' your suggestions I got plans of my own
and if it's not about a dollar I don't answer my phone.
How ya feel?
We 'bout to turn a dollar to a mill'
We tryna turn this into somthin' real
If you ain't about a dollar what's the deal?
We out here hustlin' fuck how ya feel thats how we feel.
Look, bad seed but believe it we done grown up now,
I remember sneakin out my house just to roll up loud,
I got some O's up hold up, what is the hold up now?
I used to sell it through the town I got a whole store now,
(Come on)
Pounds, grams, and ounces we don't deal in milligrams,
Musta hit like fifty grand off that purple mini van,
'Cuz we don't hit drugs no more, we make deals,
Sit down and shake hands over them eight course meals,
Man I got in this game like back in '05 and '06,
See back then, shit, you could get the whole five for two sips,
Move up to nine-packs I need to go find some new shit,
Now all I care abouts my warehouse, you feel me?
I'm a corner cutter, an order stuffer, get the quarter cut up,
Sorta hustler? Stand the fuck off, you better order somethin,
Man quit frontin and get ya ol' hustle up,
This is America my dude you make ya own fuckin' luck,
How ya feel?
We 'bout to turn a dollar to a mill'
We tryna turn this into somthin' real
If you ain't about a dollar what's the deal?
We out here hustlin' fuck how ya feel thats how we feel.
I'm a bud grower, blunt smoker, money thrower,
Dream's lockin, heads boppin, feds watchin',
Fist thrower, Lift roll then piff blowin,
Lane switcher, Palm? Valley nigga, uh,
Credits
Writer(s): John Martin, Samuel Lachow
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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