Lyrics The Hustle - Boot Camp Clik

The Hustle

Don’t be scared of the hustle, make moves with the hustle
Don’t be scared of the hustle, make moves with the hustle
Don’t be scared of the hustle, make moves with the hustle
Don’t be scared of the hustle, make moves with the hustle
I’m in my hood where my section ain’t great
Where some pack a nine cuz they section still eight
Late, on the rink at a high rate
Crimerate at a high rate, look at how the time escape
Day turns to night, night turns to profit
It’s money on the street, you can’t stop it
Got to get, focused like a Sony cam
And nowadays, cuz these niggas so phony, damn
I, heard enough rumors go 'round
Bout the God, like he was hard, but he ain’t doing it now
Actually, on the factual tip
It’s a struggle, to eat without using this mack and the clip
That’s why I, lean back in the back of the whip
Now tell my dog get to passing the spliff, it’s getting tragic
Boy, cuz it’s a struggle with the hustle
Don’t be scary with the hustle, make moves with the hustle, nigga what?
Don’t talk about it, be about it
(Don't be scared of the hustle, make moves with the hustle)
You got heat, don’t be without it
(Don't be scared of the hustle, make moves with the hustle)
You in the street, trying to make a dollar
(Don't be scared of the hustle, make moves with the hustle)
You gotta, avoid beast, trying to make a collar
(Don't be scared of the hustle, make moves with the hustle)
General Steele, Boot Camp’s Black Panther
Black fist, black glove, wrapped round the black snub
Get dressed, act tough, get stretched
Hot pellets leave ya melon a mess, Steele one of the best
Same time, one of the worst
Good and bad, same time, put the metal to work
I got feeling, yeah, I cry when it hurt, but I get over in time
Cuz I realize crying don’t work
My family, my wealth, with that said, I die for the camp
Signed and sealed with that Duck Down stamp, Bucktown the champ
When then Timb boot niggas perform
When you see that flag, nigga, it’s on, we unstoppable
See me?
Everyday I’m hustling hustling
Rounding up customers, look I’m herb russling
Man, I blow in and out of these towns
Miami to A, that’s how I move 'round
I was trunk popping, pound dropping
Glock cocking, while you was on the stoupe car spotting
My team lay it down like a royal flush
And you mad cuz your bitches wanna fuck with us
My razor’ll keep a jagged edge
You be walking out of heaven with a scar on your head
And S, courtesy of Smokey Bin Laden
See me everywhere, fuck boy, I ain’t hiding
I ride with a temple on deck
With some killas on set, 24 on a neck and I
Quit to being so fresh from bummy
And I never been scared to take no money, bitch