| The streets make the hustlas
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| Hustlas make the world go round
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| The world is made of keys, ounces and pounds
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| The keys, ounces and pounds is made from hustlas
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| See how shit come back round for ya
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| Gotta cop it, chop it and cook it
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| See how shit come back round for ya
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| Gotta kick in the oven now watch it bubble
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| And you can knock on my door
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| But you can’t knock the hustle
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| But I- it’s like a game of twenty-one and I got nineteen
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| And my J butter put more 'd' on me
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| Lil Weezy Wee gon eat that’s how it is
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| Got insurance on the floor man I’m that positive
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| And I’m shaggy in the saggy lens
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| Me an my squad in the paddy wagon tally Benz
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| And you know I put the mags on that
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| .45 mack with the flash on that
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| Who want it
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| Everybody sing along
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| Now I’mma ride cuz I got riding in my bloodline
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| And I’mma shine cuz I got shining in my bloodline
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| I get that dough cuz I got hustle in my bloodline
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| I bleed concrete
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| And when I move, I move out with the raw
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| I move out with the squad
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| To his album we ride we so mob
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| I throw lives and lowest to live
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| For my loaf of bread the people’s player
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| I did what the culture said
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| And I live by La Costra Nostra said
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| Fuck around I’ll knock your shoulder from your head
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| Get it right I’m a soldier till I’m dead
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| This kid is white with buttonholes inside that bled
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| I’m pumping o’s with lots of hay
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| I’m so high and really I don’t even know why
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| And oh I just go buy a whole house
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| And lay my mat down lay her back down
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| But I never put my mack down
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| You see the thug in me
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| You know Weezy he the young son of Bubba-B
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| Buy my basketball shorts with a thunder B
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| If you want it then come to me
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| I’m right here
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| I’m G’d up
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| Only follow the code of the streets
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| Live bad to die good
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| Know how to move when hustling by the days with no food
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| But just so I can eat
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| And ain’t it a bitch
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| And if you see me getting fat I’m probably getting rich
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| And you probably can see me for some crack before six
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| And after that it’s all bricks
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| A fake and my palm is wrapped around this eight
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| And my arm because the dirty south is straight Vietnam
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| I skate with the bomb
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| I’m asking you don’t play with me at all
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| Shots hit your ass and make three of y’all
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| It’ll take three of y’all to fill one of my shoeprints
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| Cuz I did and do shit that’s better than new shit
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| Fit for two clips
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| The kid is a nuisance
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| Awww man, he’s inspired by his own gangsta music
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| And the Blueprint
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| Cruising through stoop with the ewe lit
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| Like ooh shit this is more than weed, it’s 500 Degreez |