Hustler

Don't make this complicated My old school candy painted I hustle hard When I come through they like "oh my God that nigga clean" From the beginning It Was Written I suppose I break a whole on the 36 oz And move it, I'm a hustler, baby I'm a hustler, baby My mind on the money, I ain't tripping on the hoes I blow a whole lot of paper on clothes But dig it, I'm a hustler, baby I'm a hustler, baby I come through, I had the hoes like "who he?" Seats in the old school Louis Shoes and the belt buckle Louis We don't need more details now do we? Let 'em sag, my swag is True Religion You gonna need Cartier frames to see my vision It smells like cream mixed with weed, this is classy and hood Drama llama time, nigga, what's good? Domino's, motherfucker, it's time to collect Stack paper like I'm trying to fix the national debt I'm just doing what I wanna do, I trip these set This is 50 on that Muammar Gaddafi shit From the beginning It Was Written I suppose I break a whole on the 36 oz And move it, I'm a hustler, baby I'm a hustler, baby My mind on the money, I ain't tripping on the hoes I blow a whole lot of paper on clothes But dig it, I'm a hustler, baby I'm a hustler, baby Get on my level, bitch, I'm careful who I kick it with We talk market and distribution and politics Got a chip on my shoulder, chip off the old block I sell the chip of a whole rock, 10 dollars a pop I'm a magnet, the bitch can't help but watch me Socks, drawers, undershirt, Versace, Versace, Versace Designer threads in every form of fashion I express myself so the question I'm askin' Is this flip or the next flip tailor 50 shit? We ain't promised tomorrow, nigga, go on and get the shit That skull and bones, that Alexander McQueen thing In case you ain't notice this a Queens thing From the beginning It Was Written I suppose I break a whole on the 36 oz And move it, I'm a hustler, baby I'm a hustler, baby My mind on the money, I ain't tripping on the hoes I blow a whole lot of paper on clothes But dig it, I'm a hustler, baby I'm a hustler, baby Oh, it's cold out here It's my kind of weather, I'm cold blooded It's 50 When I come through you see me In the Suburbans that's bulletproof, bomb proof, level 6, what else? When I go hard I go hard When I don't want you to see me I switch it up I'm in that black on black Porsche Panamera In the back like "ooh wee" We rolling I hustle, man, it's what I do, man What, niggas gon' try and tell me how to do this?