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