Damn you niggas!
Don’t make this complicated
My old school candy painted
I hustle hard
When I come through they like “oh my god!”
From the beginning it was written I suppose
I break a hole in the 36 oz
And move it out my hustler baby
I’m a hustler baby
When I’m on the money I ain’t trippin’ on the hoes
A whole lot of paper on clothes
Dig it, I’m a hustler baby
I’m a hustler baby
I come through I had ho like who we?
Seats in the old school Louis
Shoes and the belt buckle Louis
We don’t need more details, now do we?
Let ‘em sag, my swag is True Religion
You gonna need Cartier frames to see my vision
It smells like cream mixed with weed
This is classy and hood
Drama lama time, what’s good …
(?), It’s time to collect
Stack paper like I’m tryin’ to fix the national debt
I’m just doing what I wanna do, I trip these set
It’s 50 on that Momar Khadafi shit
From the beginning it was written I suppose
I break a hole in the 36 oz
And move it out my hustler baby
I’m a hustler baby
When I’m on the money I ain’t trippin’ on the hoes
A whole lot of paper on clothes
Dig it, I’m a hustler baby
I’m a hustler baby
Get on my level, nigga, I don’t care for who I kick it with
We talk market, and distribution, and politics
Got a chip on my shoulder, chip off the whole block
I sell the chip of a whole rock, 10 dollars a pop
I’m a made nigga, I can’t help but to watch
These Versace drawers, under surface, Versace, Versace, Versace
Designer threads in every form of fashion
I express myself, so the question I’m askin’
Is this flip or the next flip tailor 50 shit?
We ain’t promised tomorrow, nigga, gone and (?) shit
That skull and bones, that Alexander McQueen thing
Bitch you ain’t (?), it’s a Queens thing
From the beginning it was written I suppose
I break a hole in the 36 oz
And move it out my hustler baby
I’m a hustler baby
When I’m on the money I ain’t trippin’ on the hoes
A whole lot of paper on clothes
Dig it, I’m a hustler baby
I’m a hustler baby
Oh! It’s cold out here
It’s my kind of weather, I’m cold blooded
It’s 50
When I come through you see me!
In the Suburbans that are bullet proof, bomb proof, leather … what else?
When I go hard, I go hard
When I don’t want you to see me, I switch it up
I’m in that black Porsche …
We out!
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
