Lyrics:
got ass
She got 'em stuffed in them boy shorts covered up with lil' hearts
Her partner got 'em laced, cut right below the waist
You can tell they got
bitch, bitch)
Crazy-ass Petey
I'm gon' tell a nigga just like this
If you want it, boy, you sure can get it
You ain't heard
It's Cash Money and that
I'm stuffed with pastries and drunk with power
Now they're puttin' up my statue by the Eiffel Tower
A little more to the left, boys, a little more
paper route stack cheese!
[Verse 1: E-40]
Drinkin aftershock! on the soil smokin a beedi
Fillin my wheaties in the trenches, lookin out for em
havin' problems
Smoke 'em, fire and bomb
I died and came back
I hustle with these lyrics as if it's a game of crack
Thuggin' is in my spirit
I'm lost
-O handles this one
Bad boys watch ya backs
Watch ya backs bad boys
[Black Rob]
Yo, who the fuck is this pagin' me at eight forty six
I'm
to the motherfuckin' mountaintop
Heard motherfuckers talk, seen 'em drop
If I ain't got a weapon I'ma pick up a rock
And when I bust yo' ass I'm gon' continue to rock
your woo game won't work think
You a soulja I'm a put him on a camoflauge shirt
Berg, Weezy, look what I did to 'em choppa style
Gon' and put a cig
get a taste of my hood
I'm da captain of the corner
Khaki's and Coronas
Now we gotta show em
So let's patch em up and blow em
Now, blow the dice,
boy watch what the fuck you sayin do you know who the fuck I am bitch I'm a man...
Now let me get that hand clap, that hand clap
Know what I'm sayin...
I'm stuck in a clinic like Flint Montgomery
Take a step back, tell me right now, boy, just what your summary
Creeping through fireside
Smash
(Skepta)
As we proceed (Boy Better Know)
Yeah (let's go)
The bad boys are back
Blowing up shit like bomb in Iraq (boom)
Diddy's in white, I'm in all
a look at you
Death by matrimony
Hey sucker
(What the hell's got into you?)
Hey sucker
(Now there's nothing you can do)
A married man? You're out
want, Ant Banks, but Racia is my bitch
That's my bitch, man I'm telling you
That's my bitch, peep this out, boy
Now Racia is my bitch and every time I
down, tell that bitch that I'm tryna bang with 'em
Real dead man out in Valley Park, I done arranged killers
Mask down on Sunset with them dirty sticks,
Soulja Boy
Pulling up in my new toy
Shoot my shot, Brandon Roy
AND I
Cannot slow down my grind
I'm one of a kind
Tell me what's on your mind
This, is,
man that thang go wit' me
My nigga from the jets got stained for a 50
Sack of the hard
Tryna match you a broad
Got 'em shot up in his car by
.45 carryin'
Where I'm from ain't far from Washington Heights to cop Aryan
A rookie boy, the cookie didn't make no profit
A stranger to the block, I
back
And tell niggas that Detox come out this October
Like Ol' Dirty Bastard, I'm finally sober
And verses like this'll get me a new Rover
Get you a new
Yeah. yall no what it is .
its anudda 1 of dose . yes !
Man its ya boy wiz khalifa man.lets do it . yo ! uhh
im kinda hot now money gettin longer
[Paul Wall Intro]
I get up early and get it before the crack of dawn
And I'm still out when the sun set getting my hustle on
I'm grinding all day
around and get evaporated (evaporated)
'Cause I'm a timer, timer (timer, timer)
Forty water (forty water)
Sprinkle me, man (sprinkle me, man
hand
Damn, at least I'm realistic with my biscuit
You know you get your ass twisted, so run for cover
Me and my man got a plan, kickin' major dust
So
Got a couple hard knocks from this life thing
Talk game on fleek boy and the hustle game gravy
It's the art of hustle
It's the art of hustle
It's
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