Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song My Hustle Song , by - Sam LachowRelease date: 31.07.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
My Hustle Song |
| I wanna big big big big big, uh |
| I wanna big white limo |
| Something just hella simple that’ll pop a pimple off the hardest pimp on the |
| block (I want some) |
| Sittin' high, like those video guys |
| Seattle cops yellin' «cocksucka, throw the first rock sucka» |
| Dare you, double dog look for trouble |
| Couple hooligans zoomin' up 23rd and Union movin' around |
| Well backpack rappers glued to the ground |
| Shit, long as their bars rhymin', they gon' keep on grindin' |
| That’s what I tell 'em |
| If you not worried 'bout ya money, why you yellin'? |
| I can turn that pretty squirt into a felon |
| All these rappers want some beats but I don’t sell 'em |
| That’s what I tell 'em |
| Uh, 'cause I’m a stock broker |
| A box broker pot smoker,, rhyme spitter |
| I’m not hearin' your suggestions, I got plans of my own |
| And if it’s not about a dollar, I don’t answer my phone |
| How ya feel? |
| We 'bout to turn a dollar to a mill' |
| We tryna turn this into somthin' real |
| If you ain’t about a dollar, what’s the deal? |
| We out here hustlin', fuck how ya feel, that’s how we feel |
| Look, bad seed but believe it. |
| we done grown up now |
| Remember sneakin' out my house just to roll up loud |
| I got some O’s up, hold up, what is the hold up now? |
| I used to sell it through the town, I got a whole store now (come on) |
| Pounds, grams, and ounces, we don’t deal in milligrams |
| Musta hit like fifty grand off that purple mini van |
| 'Cause we don’t hit drugs no more, we make deals |
| Sit down and shake hands over them eight course meals |
| 'Cause man, I got in this game like back in '05 and '06 |
| See back then, shit, you could get the whole five for two sips |
| Move up to nine-packs, I need to go find some new shit |
| Now all I care about’s my warehouse, you feel me? |
| I’m a corner cutter, an order stuffer, get the quarter cut up |
| Sorta hustler? |
| Stand the fuck off, you better order somethin' |
| Man quit frontin' and get ya ol' hustle up |
| This is America my dude, you make ya own fuckin' luck |
| How ya feel? |
| We 'bout to turn a dollar to a mill' |
| We tryna turn this into somthin' real |
| If you ain’t about a dollar, what’s the deal? |
| We out here hustlin', fuck how ya feel, that’s how we feel |
| I’m a bud grower, blunt smoker, money thrower |
| Dreads lockin', heads boppin', feds watchin' |
| Fist thrower, lift roll then piff blowin' |
| Lane switcher, Palm City, Valley nigga, uh |
| Wow, what’s hangin' witchu, Huckleberry slim, motherfucker? |
| money lookin' ass motherfucker, man |
| Just give ya boy a call back, boy |
| You already know, man, I’m tryna get it poppin,' man |
| Holla at ya boy |