| Now come follow me Down yellow brick road
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| To easier to see
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| Hillwood Hustla
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| Got what you need
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| It were plain to see
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| Since the age of three
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| One day dope fiends’ll be pagin me I got crunk in the game niggas knew my name
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| Hillwood the place I gain my fame
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| 16 in a 7−7 Seville
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| Smoke grey gold trim big daddy grill
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| Back in '86 I was choppin bricks
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| To think a damn papermate made me rich
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| I got love for the hustlas in every hood
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| But hate in your heart it’ll never be good
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| I feel blessed but confess
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| I blow sess for my stress
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| Its that Mex with a S on my chest
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| None the less I was real with the homies
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| With the O-Z's running from the police
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| No peace blow sweets on cold streets
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| Dope fiends gon bring a nigga more green (echoes)
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| My money triple sippin ripple living simple
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| Rolling paper squares out a fat ass nickle
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| Trick on my dick for the bricks I chop
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| Pigs in my mix when they hit my block
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| Used to catch a raid bout every six months
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| Just a check up to see if id slip once
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| Call it one time some rhyme bout this shit
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| I can slide in my sandals but never will I slip
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| Undercovers hit the set man y’all funny
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| Taking them crumbs and giving marked money
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| Trying to convict em I ain’t fallin victim
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| Fool I know your face and my boys I done hipped em They want me bad so mad as they burn off
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| Fucking with them hoes now my blunt done turned off
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| No other way just another day on the spot
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| If you play then you pay it don’t never stop (echoes)
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| I wrote this book bout a hopeless crook
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| Living in the land where the coke is cooked
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| Where hoes get took and the choke is good
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| Where smokers hooked and the soldiers hood
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| That lonely Wood where his homies stood
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| Trying to change myself if I only could
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| I’m just your Hillwood Hustla street rhyme rustler
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| Blowing more smoke than a broke down muffler
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| But I’m taking losses
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| It ain’t easy working jobs with no fucking bosses
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| Selling dope is the hardest thing a man can do Risking life and your freedom for a buck or two
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| Still I feel if you loose control homie youse a ho Real g’s keep they life on cruise control
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| When the police kick door and raid my crib
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| I tell em pigs of the slippers that’s not what I did (echoes) |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Wizard of Oz , by - SPM. Song from the album Hustle Town, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп