Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Hustler, artist - Trevis CarrollAlbum song Aziatic, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 31.12.2001
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Universal Music
Song language: English
Hustler |
| I didn’t fall from heaven, I rose from hell |
| Bigboy, get bagged, he gon' hold my bail |
| It’s like Attica '67 when they, closed the jail |
| Be careful, but promote yo’selves that’s what they told me |
| Involved but unconcerned fuck beef when it dissolve it does not return |
| I don’t leave, stagnate nor move off-beat |
| So discrete very rarely do I move on feet |
| I rough-ride twin rugers on the sides of my seats |
| Drive-by's, bodies left on both sides of the streets |
| I blacks out never blind by the size of the image |
| No disguise, homocide don’t rely forensic |
| Homes’s finished, scrambling caught in the scrimmage |
| 12 shells ricocheting and it pours from the hemorrhage |
| Get the casket embalm and forget the bastard for moving backwards |
| New York’s number one draft pick |
| I’m a hustler, not by choice (4x) |
| All this nigga know is, get money burn a lot of smokes |
| Lazy niggas was sleeping, I was wide awoke |
| Not a joke, creep on snitches, niggas gotta choke |
| When it’s time to sleep with the fishes I supply the boat |
| And I swear it hurts, I supply the coke |
| 'Cuz don’t nothing scare me worse than dying broke |
| Iron poking on my ribs while I’m laying in a Taurus |
| I live this shit y’all just performers, it’s a dirty game |
| I seen thugs turn informers, crooked cops run in the crib, no warrants |
| Money talk though, never stuck in a grudge |
| Got a female lawyer and she fucking the judge |
| I was once told, that you reap what you sow |
| And a, the scent of weed always seep in your clothes |
| And a, it’s Quiet Money so we speaking in codes |
| Like, why should I trust ya?, nigga, I’m a hustler |
| I’m a hustler, not by choice (4x) |
| Unh, Yo, Jesus Christ yo, he just nice |
| Like a ginszu blade nigga, he just slice |
| And get y’all out the game, dog, it’s not long |
| Anybody can spit, faggot, but can you make a hot song? |
| You’re not wrong, like Biggie said you’re dead wrong |
| Need to get your flow tight, gotta get your head strong |
| Watch us, the way we floss up in coat lockers |
| Walk right past security, flippin' poppers |
| Like what? |
| who the fuck gon' stop us? |
| Y’all wait until the summer, when this fucking album drop us |
| I know y’all hate it, because y’all flows outdated |
| You finished as an artist and I finally made it |
| But I paid my dues, in this game patiently waited |
| Niggas ain’t gimme shit, I had to take it |
| It’s A dot, all year 'round I stay hot |
| Nigga I play not, ride thru you’re block in that grey drop |
| They call me headhunter, the head is all I aim for |
| The top spot nigga, what you think I came for? |
| These words touch you, cut you open like a chainsaw |
| And now you’re your man is like, what y’all said his name for? |
| Fucking hustler, motherfucking Animal |
| I’m a hustler, not by choice (5x) |
| I’m a hustler |
| I’m a hustler |