
Date of issue: 31.12.1999
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Virgin Records America
Song language: English
Hustlin' Daze |
It’s ninety degrees on the corner, in the summer heat |
Dreamin of beach houses, mad ladies and Hummer jeeps |
Got another beep now it’s time to watch a brother creep |
And pull another scam, not yet the man but the brother’s deep |
Ain’t tryin to stay in this life for too long |
You tellin me that I’m bound to lose, but you wrong |
I’m too strong, plus me and my team’s got a true bond |
I’ll stay in these streets, you stay in the house where you belong |
Yo who’s wrong, you never had to live in my shoes |
And my view’s, that every second is vital |
The way I see nigga’s the way I G it |
A raw ghetto entrepeneur, yeah I be it |
Not as glamourous, as the gangster flicks |
I’ll show you some gangster chicks that hold me down we get rich |
And get this, bet this, I’m after payola |
The loot, the paper, til my hustlin days are over |
I’m a hustler, a hustler hmm |
Gotta get the dough to win |
And I’m a baller yeah, baller |
Shot call-errr |
I pack plenty of steel, plenty of steel |
For niggas that wanna be actin ill |
All the player haters stay, off my nuts |
While I’m/we handlin business |
Illegal business, I need to invest in somethin legit |
This money’s comin too quick, I copped a house and two whips |
Who switched it, not me, I’m keepin it real |
Keepin the steel while the envious watch hungry, I’m eatin my meal |
Late nights, there ain’t no time for stage frights |
This ain’t fiction, it’s my mission to get paid alright? |
No need to speak about greed, long as I’m feedin my seed |
Then I’m completin the deed, so I’m keepin this cheese |
High-priced lawyers, I’m too nice for ya |
Never touchin the work no more, too precise for ya |
Controllin the town, holdin it down |
I’m the Master Allah Now, I’m showin you style |
I go in your file, and make you hard to locate |
Delete all your data don’t disregard your fate |
I’ll off you then I’m off with a honey like suave bola |
Shit I’m livin this life, til my hustlin days are over |
Bouncin in and out of town, hope I don’t step out of bounds |
Chicks love to crowd around cause of my rep, how that sound? |
Enemies are growin in numbers, hopin to catch me slumber |
I wonder; |
how many are hopin to take me under? |
NARC’s and Feds, throwin darts at my head |
Some new cats tryin to make me part with my bread |
Now I’m in a zone worse than Nino in Sugar Hill |
Now I’m all alone, the piper wants me to foot the bill |
Now I’m facin the judge, my name on a folder |
In jail for life, my hustlin days are over |
Oh yeah |
Yeah yeah yeah, uhh |
Uhh. |
ooohoooohwooooohhh |
Get the paper, get the dough |
Cause I’m hustlin |
Gotta get the paper, get the dough |
Cause I’m hustlin |
And I’m a hustler |
And I’m a baller, yeah |
I pack plenty of steel |
So all the player haters stay, off my nuts |
While we handlin business |
Oh yeah, ohooooohhhhhohhhhhh |
Mmmmmmm ohhh ohhh, oh yeah |
If you’re with me, throw your guns in the air |
Whoahoahaohohhhhohhhhhh, ohhh yeah |
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