Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Hustla, artist - Nappy Roots. Album song Watermelon, Chicken & Gritz, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 25.02.2002
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Atlantic
Song language: English
Hustla |
Got a cheese sandwich on the hunnid spoke |
Pork rinds and a soda pop |
I told a cop I’d beat it, lost |
At 3 a.m., they told up «stop» |
We got it real real, to the top |
A G like 30 feet away from the county line |
The weed flyin, the golden smilin |
Wip it nice an then they sign |
Man, fuck |
How denyin' my damn luck |
This ain’t no find if we get stuck I’m doin time |
Don’t get messy with the Prezzy |
A quarter pound ain’t worth the rizzy |
Drunk as hell, then hurl the fifth |
Back an forth we swerve and dip |
Pumpkin pie |
Bust a cop |
I’ll be damned, they took my crop |
Shook 'em wit that lead foot an hit about a hunid fi (105) |
Miles per hour |
In the country wit the pudin, good an chunky |
40 acre, mule an donkey, hell with that, just get the money |
Got to be that early bird |
To grind an get what I deserve |
Quick to burn an an can’t mesquite it |
Lord I need it fore the third |
Serve anybody? |
Hell naw, got to be for sure |
Standin on the standard curb |
Days begin to bend an blurred |
Homegrown bacon |
Yeah, I’m havin the wage |
Tendency of a 50 hit, when its about gettin payed |
Came along with a ragin theif hidin under the shade |
An momma won’t quit buggin me about my heathenish ways |
Now I’ve wasted more tears then my mouth cold beer |
Gotta be a Man on these rolls, overcomin my fears |
Body too quick to gaze, with they head on bob |
Get dee, life is foul but the dirt is hard, yeah! |
(hustla) |
If you play the cards you delt, then you stuggle, got to put in work (hustla) |
And I got to be the early bird to grind and get what I deserve (hustla) |
If you play the cards you delt, then you stuggle, got to put in work (hustla) |
And I got to be the early bird to grind and get what I deserve (hustla) |
Ain’t no tenth, 35% |
Dent in my hub caps, sticks in my dove sacks, fifth till I cuts that |
Look, my baby husband got to eat some mo |
Dough is what Im reachin fo |
Money low, need some mo |
Hustlin these streets alone |
Now everyday I work, 75 |
A&R tellin me lies |
Fore I die, wanna drive big bodies wit bubbla die |
Now peep the otha side, ova them hills |
Rich dude that own them mills |
Tha candy sto is open for sale |
These junkies gone smoke it to death |
Money, hoes, clothes, auto-mobiles, gold grills |
No scrill, no deal, fifth weel, big grill |
Wood grain sturnweel, weigh it up, be still |
Lay it on the fish scales |
I’m assed out in the back seat of the Pont-i-ac |
Got a cup full of Con-i-ac |
Quarter out of hunny sacks |
Tell me get my money back |
Still broke, feel like I ain’t got shit to live fo |
So much to kill fo |
C’mon, this niggas transition, ain’t no use in sittin round wishin |
But my hands ichin, poppa need a new transmition |
Get my grind on, hustle that bustle to make my grip in any time zone |
Bundle that bubble, lets make it split |
We buy: peices, ounces, keys, weed, Xs, Zs |
Nigga, please, anything you ask fo, we got what you need |
To these college degrees we applyin to streets, cause I’m a (hustla) |
If you play the cards you delt, then you stuggle, got to put in work (hustla) |
And I got to be the early bird to grind and get what I deserve (hustla) |
If you play the cards you delt, then you stuggle, got to put in work (hustla) |
And I got to be the early bird to grind and get what I deserve (hustla) |
Hustla. |
Carry many meanings. |
Whether you a crook in them books |
Whether you usin your mind or usin a 9 |
Bootleg alcohol, or runnin the ball |
You must get it in. You was born a hustla |
An you a die a hustla. |
Prophit, hit 'em wit it |
I pause and refine a mighty floss, et cetera |
For life in a ballance, of it |
Lyin an shinin a beddy ro |
I gotta be worse than a hust fa mine (I mean) |
If I don’t crush it then I’mma bust the 9 |
I tell ya dog, get on the blocks in over-alls, its over y’all |
Wit all dem boys stay hot, said if we blow out finna go a billion time |
Ya know me dog, neva be a oldie dog |
My state of mind’s on the grind like a eighths of raw |
Dont go trickin 'em all, I’mma have you bust for all my yiggas |
Live for the days so we can hustle 'em all, aww! |
What? |
What? |
What? |
Aw! |
Aww! |