Lyrics:
and be knockin' my hustle? (Right)
My nigga my Ace Hood know I hustle hard
(So what we tell 'em?) All my
Ambition come from my struggles (Go)
Little nigga
He gets up each morning and he goes downtown
where everyone's his boss,
and he's lost in an angry land.
He's a little man.
But then he comes
He gets up each morning and he goes downtown
where everyone's his boss,
and he's lost in an angry land.
He's a little man.
But then he comes
credentials
Continentals, hit your back bumper in the parking lot
I give my boys twenty G's for marking up your spot
Smoking pot, I don't stop banging
2320 is
the hottest hits in the club drinkin'
Never trickin' on a pigeon, yo who I'm bringin'
The glock is hittin', but it's reachable by hand
I'm ma beat you wit this,
This ain't a twinkle twinkle little star
But this may be the fattest track by far
And still the competition is, eager to listen
I keep shooting,
[Chorus]: [x2]
You and ya boy jaw jackin actin' like you wanna buck
Yo mug all mean like I really give a fuck
Been talkin' like you want it but I got
help|I'll do it by myself||A dirty magazine, a little vasoline|Make sure my hand is clean, you know what I mean|I'll make the bald man cry, I need
Big dreamer, wanna wrap around the green;
Blunt wrap Leave a blood bath in my path, gotta cut grass
Let a snake in by the chin, then I cut back (pap!)
We can Blow bud on the black sand beach
Please Don’t label me a thug by the black mans speech
I’ll give you a hung to see these black hands reach
Epic Ferrari cuttin' through like it's a Porsche
I just hope my family's proud of me
I became a monster and never had no helpin' hand
So much gun
There was blood on my hands and hair on my cheeks
I hadn't got a shave in 25 weeks
I cracked the window open I had a handgun in the backseat
You were
find my fucking address
You can't do nothing to me
I'm a G
Ten year old my little girl you see
I reached more than you ever done
All you got is money in
Between father and son
That’s the way that it was, in the years that we shared
As time passed us by, Man, we made quite a pair
He showed me there’s nothing
That's what I do
I told her she got a pretty face
I can tell the smile doesn't lie
She called me chickee-babe, nickname me idiot, I don't really give
like a pistol
Funky lyrics take off like a missile
For your inner man proves beneficial
Yo everything little thing I do
You're on my mind all of the time
shake hands wit
Is there as a crutch
Rather hang it all up
Then paired wit suckas
Who is y'all
If ya lead man just frontin'
But that's another subject
Don’t fuck me cuz imma lil lil riskey
I’m a bad B and I drink that straight up Tennessee
All you hoes know imma give you a show
Kinda like Beyoncé you
I don't do this shit for you
Do this shit for me
And I'm sick of being used
No more shit for free
Man I live inside a booth 20 years a week
That's
I'll have you sippin' out a straw
For a couple of months
For a little bit of fun
(Yay yay) I'm fighting two on one
Knock you out and watch your homeboy
to go to Egypt see the sand,
You throw a little green in the air like Peter Pan
I took chances I took losses i whooped bosses
I shook hands in a crooks
the way to lover's lane
Find a spot, we don't gotta tuck the blades
Fiend birds holding hands like mayonnaise
Damn, so catch me I'm the man
These days, I'm
ungrateful the moon can only shine cus the sun
What I find is that I've been blinded
By the moves we have inclined, undone
Now I know why you hide your hands
a couple of places that I know
we can kick back and spend all the dough
ain't no playing with me I'm the champ baby
ain't no need for playing your man
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