Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Hustler , by - 50 Cent. Release date: 02.06.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Hustler |
| Yea, I need you, I need you to hate |
| So I can use you for your energy |
| you know, its real shit, feel this! |
| America’s got a thing for this gangsta’s shit, they love me Black Chucks, black skullies, leather Pelle-Pelle |
| I take spills over raymo shit, I’ma fan |
| Got through the silver duck tape on my trait old handle |
| The women on my life bring confusion shit |
| SO like Nino from New Jack, I’ll have to cancel that bitch |
| Look at me, this is the life I chose |
| Niggaz around me so cold, man my heart dun froze up I build an empire on the low the narc’s don’t know |
| I’m the weatherman, I take that coco leaf and make that snow |
| Sit back, watch it turn to dope, watch it go out the door |
| O after O, you know, homey I’m just triple beam, dreamin |
| Niggaz be schemin, I’m fiendin to live a good life |
| The fiends just fiendin |
| Conceal my weapon nice and easy so you can’t see |
| The penitentiary is definitely out the question for me I want the finer things in my life |
| So I hustle (hustle) |
| Nigga you get in my way when while I’m tryin to get mine |
| And I’ll buck you (buck you) |
| I don’t care who you run with, or where you from |
| Nigga fuck you (fuck you) |
| I want to find the thing thats in my life |
| So I hustle (hustle) |
| Yea, I don’t know shit about gymnastics I summersault bricks |
| Black talents start flyin, when a nigga flip |
| I cook crack in the microwave, niggaz can’t fuck with me Man my cold days, they called me chef boy are 50 |
| Check my logic, smokers don’t like seeds in their weed shit |
| Send me them seeds i’ll grow 'em what they need |
| Them ain’t chia pet plants in the crib thats chronic |
| And I’m sellin them 500 a pop god damn it I sold everythin I’ma hustler, I know how to grind |
| Step on grapes put in water and tell you its wine |
| If you analyze me, what you’ll find is the DNA recrock |
| What goes in my mind, its contagious |
| Hypnotic, it sounds melodic |
| If the rap was the block or spider, I’ll be poke and butter |
| Now get a load of me, flashy, far from low key |
| And you can locate me where ever that dope be, gettin money man |
| Its a hustler’s ambition, close your eyes listen, see my vision |
| Mossberg pumpin, shotgun dumpin and drama means nothin |
| It’s part of the game, catch me in the coupe switchin lanes |
| In the jewels with your chains |
| I upgrade from 30 BS to clean VS |
| Rocks that I copped procedes from the spot |
| I got the energy to win, I’m full of adrenaline |
| Played it perf and get nauseous, watchin the spinner spin |
| I make plans to make it, a prisoner of the state |
| Now I can invite yo ass out to my estate |
| Them holi tip bent me up, but I’m back in shape |
| Pour Crystal in the blender and make a protein shake |
| I’m like the East coast number one playboy B Hugh Hefner’ll tell you he don’t got shit on me The feds watch me, icey they can’t stop me Racist, pointin at me look at the nigga ratchi |
| Hello! |