Shout to Desert Storm ("Gangsta Grillz, you BASTARDS!") Whattup? Shoutout Ski Dorrough whattup? {"Gangsta Grizzill!!"}
I'm supposed to style, I'm a hustler's poster child Girls see me they 'posed to smile, ohhhhhhh Can't you tell I get my hustle on? Ohhhhhhh Can't you tell I get my hustle on? H-U-S-T-L-E-R Everywhere we go, bet they know who we are, ohhhhhhh Can't you tell I get my hustle on? Ohhhhhhh Can't you tell I get my hustle on?
(DJ DRAMA!!)
Now you could ask any hustler you know They'll tell you it's in the wrist I'm a good cook, make a hell of a dinner dish Get stiffed quick, they say a fella is generous I could sell stiff dick to Ellen Degeneres I got a sales pitch, I should do a infomercial I did Foreman Grill numbers on the strength of purple Your money long, they go to any length to slurp you So fuck a bitch 'less she in the Oprah Winfrey circle Don't get me wrong, I'll get at you honey But I'm a bachelor, all I do is spatula money Scoop it up and flip it, hoop it up and zip it Stand over stoves, soup it up and whip it I'm a chef that cook up ways to make me rich Clothin line recipe, yeah I make it rich Them wire taps make a hustler nervous Got a problem? Don't call me I ain't customer service
I move heavy weight, I could easily pull a muscle man Like Tracy Morgan on Martin, call me hustle man What you need chief, coca or the weed leaf? Fuckin with my hustle's only gon' breed beef Went South and came back with shoppin bags full of guns Fresh out the box, poppin tags on the guns A Carolina drive, up and down the 95 Got the 40's for 7, but I sell 'em 9 from 5 Fuck a 9 to 5, I'm a hustleholic I need rubberbands, these stacks'll bust a wallet The pills pull some money on a good E day Every thing could buy and sell, hood eBay You give me two dice, I ride it like the 4 train Bring more 7-11's than the store chain You give me three of them, I shoot 'em like a milly clip Roll more 6's out then a Benz dealership
Yup! You could tell I get my hustle on The scent of crack in my clothes you smell I get my hustle on It's official y'all I was on my gristle y'all And I whipped the raw in a Vlasic pickle jar Before I had a deal, I was baggin krillz And I had pills but they wasn't Advils These rap cats wanna be Nino Brown But I'm the hustler, I do it like Nino now I ain't with the phone shit, in '88 I was only 6 I missed that paper, but nine-six or later (what?) I did it major, plenty niggaz could vouch for me Like them niggaz that be runnin the coke house for me But it ain't 'bout what I was it's 'bout what I'm 'bout to be So I wanna shout out Fab for lookin out for me ('Loso!!) I beat my case even though some niggaz was doubtin me I took them folks to trial, the poster child
