Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Hustler's Wife, artist - Benny the Butcher. Album song Butcher on Steroids, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 26.11.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Black Soprano Family
Song language: English
Hustler's Wife |
This gon' really hurt y’all niggas feelings |
Let me turn this shit all the way up |
Griselda, Black Soprano |
Yo, half a block on the road, I only stop for the toll |
Dick ridin' not in the code (nah…) |
I really threw a pot on the stove, they used to cop it and go |
Now all our watches is froze |
You only fuckin' gossipin' hoes, but if I got her she cold |
I never met a chick that I couldn’t mold |
I’m on Collins gettin' top in a Rolls, with a Glock that’ll blow |
Got ten bands on me rockin' Vlone |
I caught cocaine cases, students turned into gangstas |
Lieutenants knew us by our first name basis |
I can tell these niggas bullshittin', ain’t savin' (bullshittin') |
We front you a brick, every week you make payments |
I stood on the corner just to get me a fit |
I get a cut, I get a blunt, then get me a bitch |
Now when the work land, we get 60 a clip |
Ask (?), I met the nigga tryin' to get me a brick (haha) |
Yeah, you know it’s real when you got 30 in the trunk |
And a strap, and you know the cash dirty as the gun (woo!) |
Imagine this, sad mother buryin' her son |
He was carryin' his gun since he was barely 21 |
Work so hard it’ll really break scales (break scales) |
Cartels givin' niggas NBA deals |
Had to sell rocks, the mailbox was full of late bills |
I was sellin' 'caine before Wayne signed Jae Millz, nigga (ahhh) |
Lockin' up the dope with a butter knife |
Broke niggas askin' what is life |
I trapped 100 days, 100 nights |
Don’t let my daughter be a hustler’s wife |
I got the Rollie bezel flooded ice |
Yeah, broke niggas askin' what is life |
Uhh, I trapped 100 days, 100 nights |
Uhh, don’t let my daughter be a hustler’s wife, ahhh |
Look, I never heard a hustler starvin', cut it and toss it |
She got niggas, none of 'em bosses |
What you know about a quarter brick under the faucet? |
Fatigue coats and Timb boots, a bunch of New Yorkers |
I got daughters, they remember makin' visits in prison |
Not only me, my baby momma had to live with the sentence |
When shit get the realest, sometimes we forget why we in this |
Had to learn how to separate business from friendships |
(I learnt the hard way) |
On the plane to JFK watchin' the pre-game show |
And lovey gon' shoot your wedding up if we say go |
I really never heard of a place that we can’t go |
The family (?) spread the trap phone, pre-paid dough |
I’m in the streets with the dope fiends, vests and shooters |
I take trap money, rap money, Western Union |
Don’t never fuck with rappers, they act funny unless it’s music |
Fucked around and got a deal, the detectives blew it, ahhh |
Lockin' up (?) with a butter knife |
Broke niggas askin' what is life |
I trapped 100 days, 100 nights |
Don’t let my daughter be a hustler’s wife |
I got the Rollie bezel flooded ice |
Yeah, broke niggas askin what is life |
Uhh, I trapped 100 days, 100 nights |
Uhh, don’t let my daughter be a hustler’s wife, ahhh |