| Aiyo, spark that dutch, cuz my life is fucked up
|
| Even my hustle game is nothing but tough luck
|
| I stay in the street life, hoe took my truck
|
| Scrambling for increase, so my kids can eat
|
| I went savage when I felt the heat, you think something’s sweet
|
| Yeah, muthafucka, til the beast get in you
|
| Go vampire on 'em, let the feast continue
|
| For real, lord have mercy when I beat the venue
|
| Rhyme sound so nice, you can eat the menu
|
| G-O, spark that dutch, cuz your life is so ill
|
| Shit on the line, and you might have to kill
|
| Ribs is touching, what you know about street production
|
| How you feel about living where the heats is busting
|
| It’s the same old shit when I release the button
|
| Yo, spark that dutch, blow the sheets or something
|
| (You know how we do…)
|
| Yo, spark that dutch if you don’t give up
|
| Spark that dutch, nigga, cuz the streets is rough
|
| Spark that dutch, nigga, for the hoes that fuck
|
| Spark that dutch, nigga, til the stacks is up
|
| Spark that dutch, get lifted on the back of the bus
|
| Make a kid do a bid, ain’t, nothing to tough
|
| That we can’t handle, get it like the watergate scandal
|
| And scramble til the cakes done, and blow out your candle
|
| Roll up a muscle, can’t do nothing but hustle
|
| And I’m broke, and I can’t buy, nothing but trouble
|
| I don’t cuddle, but I hustle til the sun eclipse
|
| And that’s a long time coming, nigga, run your shit
|
| I ain’t done til I hawk and spit, on the track
|
| Park and pump yac' in any hood on the map
|
| It ain’t where you from, it’s, where you’re strapped
|
| And how you react, when the, pressue is on
|
| Read it in reverse, like the, Holy Qu’ran
|
| Through my sons I live on, my soul lurking through ya’ll
|
| And I advise ya, sky high, cuz it’s curtains for ya’ll… |