| Yeah…
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| Yeah man we them niggas everybody talkin 'bout
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| Hey yo, yo
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| Whether it’s, chips or whips or bricks of 'caine
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| I still shine at the end when y’all forced to rain
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| Changed the game, three shots parade ya Range
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| Hit the passenger, driver, old man on a cane
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| I’m a shell in the chamber, waitin to pop
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| Like Stoudamire on the court I’m used to movin the rock
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| Cruise in the drop, 740, snub in the box
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| My attitude shifty, never callin the cops
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| A Green Bay jersey, out on Bennett puffin hershey
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| D’s on the route tryin to catch a nigga dirty
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| Respect the flow, better yet respect the dough
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| He get respect like rich and po'
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| Fuck a 9 to 5, I’d rather wake up and spit bars
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| And your wife, known to make my dick hard
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| Cartier lenses, 22's on my Benz’s
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| When shit break out, y’all hit the fences
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| We stay bent, laid back behind tint, puffin sticks, spliff up
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| We are the hustlers everyone’s talkin about
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| Big belt, flossy shades, paint on glaze, nigga
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| We are the hustlers everyone’s talkin about
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| Unidentifiable straps makin heat clap sicker
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| We are the hustlers everyone’s talkin about
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| We about reliable scratch and gettin this math quicker
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| We are the hustlers everyone’s talkin about
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| Shit I might as well be duels, cause they call me the Flowmaster
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| I keep ridin tracks like a natural disaster
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| You know I’m 'bout macra I’ll clap ya, a pirate like
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| Far from a Hollywood actor
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| A factor, focused on paper and cars
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| I move like crowds, stay minglin with the stars
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| I’m in the 6500 Benz truck with some broads
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| Dimes in every state I strike through be on me so hard
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| You know them Bentley bound, down, wild Hummer chicks
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| That wanna take the car, cover up your tight summer shit
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| The game’s heavy, man that’s way off the charts
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| Heavier than killer whales at animal theme parks
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| You niggas is SweeTarts, my family is street sharks
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| We keep the ER busy tryin to revive the treat marks
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| Shit, we merk niggas like Eddie, get ready
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| We got heat that set car alarms off like M-80's
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| The Game on some regular rhymin, fuck all this new shit
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| When they gon' let real niggas get on that cruise ship
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| Black Sox and Dallas Squad got, chains and cars
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| Get, brains from stars after those awards
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| Miyagi’s or doubles, don’t think I won’t buy out the bar
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| That’s little shit, Mercedes dealership, buy out the cars
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| Sticker in the window, let 'em know that it’s ours
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| Sittin on shit you ain’t never seen like we got it from Mars
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| Game like Laker Will, snatch a bitch off your arm
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| She see Game covered in ice like I lived through a snowstorm
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| Plus I blow digits like my first name was
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| Pay off security at clubs, get our guns admitted
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| Outside the club in the parkin lot, four dot six
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| Not know it’s stocked? |
| Nigga it’s the one we keep the bricks in
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| Hard black on black leather’s what we keep the chicks in
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| And bitches stay sniffin like smellin dubs is a sixth sense |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song We Are The Hustlaz , by - The Game. Song from the album Untold Story - Part 2, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп