Tales Of A Hustler Pt. 2 - Album Version (Explicit) Lyrics
| Song | Tales Of A Hustler Pt. 2 - Album Version (Explicit) |
| Artist | Beanie Sigel |
| Artist | Oschino |
| Artist | Sparks |
| Album | The B.Coming |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Doldinger, Grant, Lewis | |
| Vocal：Beanie Sigel/Oschino | |
| [Beanie Sigel] | |
| Court casin.. | |
| Third felony facin | |
| No probation | |
| My heart racin like a blunt lacin | |
| Hennessy and malt liquor chasin | |
| My gemstar scarrin niggaz faces | |
| For a pound of trey eight and.. | |
| I throw bullets like Dallas Troy Aikman | |
| The callous on my index stay achin | |
| Niggaz stay hatin | |
| Got me late night pacin | |
| I'm tight boot lacin | |
| Mask on like I'm Jason | |
| Shoot up shit like Larry Davis | |
| You play the pulpit like Pastor Mason | |
| Turn cheek like Martin Luther | |
| I'm like Oswald sharp-shootin | |
| Got my eyes on my mark in the dark shootin | |
| Beam illuminate the target movin | |
| Get your organs ruined | |
| Move out like SWAT move in | |
| Got them niggaz on the back-block rootin | |
| For the bad guy.. | |
| Playground legend like Sadait(?) | |
| P. Kirkland...My MP state workin | |
| Shootin-arm stay jerkin | |
| My Nextel stay chripin | |
| Can't answer cause the feds lurkin | |
| Its like we catchin cancer on purpose | |
| Back to back chain smoking, nicotine feinin | |
| Conversation with demons when I'm dreamin | |
| Manic-depressive | |
| Like the man upstairs tryin to pass me a lesson | |
| But I can't catch it | |
| The game under break the pressure | |
| They miss my presence | |
| [Chorus 2X: Sparks] | |
| We still not promised tomorrow | |
| Takin the bitter with the sweet up in these cold ass streets | |
| We got lifestyles through our scars | |
| We ride hard til our numbers get called | |
| The lifestyle of a hustler... | |
| [Sparks] | |
| I'm feelin like deaths in the air | |
| Got me back to back buckin my squares | |
| But I ain't bitchin I ain't scared | |
| I ain't budgin, in fact the thrill alone turns me on | |
| Got me smiling, laughin...Clutchin | |
| My toast and confrontin mother ****ers | |
| Cock-a-roaches will not catch me laughin | |
| Skinny and slim fram y'all get it the same | |
| Cool niggaz that'll spin out they waves | |
| Grimey niggaz that'll spin to they graves | |
| Justifyin my foul ways | |
| I got kids to raise | |
| But mother****ers rather see me sprayed | |
| Than to see me pair (****er) | |
| Or see me on the front page like Sig | |
| Or stay rolled DC with B. Sig | |
| You bitch niggaz stay PC when y'all see me | |
| Until the day that they | |
| Fit me in the grave and the city wreak of me | |
| We got the city under siege | |
| S-P or R-O-C | |
| Poverty is a movie starrin me | |
| Ride with no play the passenger seat | |
| So y'all can see how my life so real | |
| So y'all can see how my life so ill | |
| (I came to chill..) | |
| [Chorus] | |
| [Oschino] | |
| Tales of a hustler that's me in the flesh | |
| Got a Jag and a Caddy sellin dimes of the step | |
| Niggaz wanna take my block I had to earn my respect | |
| So I put his cerebellum on his grandma's steps | |
| You know Oschino he'll probly kill | |
| Got the soul of Huey Newton nigga Bobby Seale | |
| Nigga prolly take the stand he'll prolly squeal | |
| But I got four lawyers I ain't takin the deal (Nigga) | |
| We could strap without scrap or put the semi in it | |
| Gun fully loaded like the Chrysler with the hemmy in it | |
| I keep it ghetto like a 40 with the Henny in it | |
| Went to school broke loafers on no pennies in it | |
| Stood the coldest winter with the bummiest coat | |
| Need food need shoes sold dummies of soap | |
| Got tired of bein broke man life was a bitch | |
| They bring you flowers when you head but no soup while you sick | |
| So I switched my whole picture get involved with the bricks | |
| Not the ones made of semen but the ones who sniffs | |
| Tales of hustler, niggaz come for your jugular | |
| If you sell one bag to they mother ****in customers | |
| State P we got the city on smash | |
| Got every boulevard every street every ave | |
| Got sneakers got clothes nigga you do the math | |
| Push to hustle but the point is just to stack that cash | |
| Tales of a hustler.... |
| zuo ci : Doldinger, Grant, Lewis | |
| Vocal: Beanie Sigel Oschino | |
| Beanie Sigel | |
| Court casin.. | |
| Third felony facin | |
| No probation | |
| My heart racin like a blunt lacin | |
| Hennessy and malt liquor chasin | |
| My gemstar scarrin niggaz faces | |
| For a pound of trey eight and.. | |
| I throw bullets like Dallas Troy Aikman | |
| The callous on my index stay achin | |
| Niggaz stay hatin | |
| Got me late night pacin | |
| I' m tight boot lacin | |
| Mask on like I' m Jason | |
| Shoot up shit like Larry Davis | |
| You play the pulpit like Pastor Mason | |
| Turn cheek like Martin Luther | |
| I' m like Oswald sharpshootin | |
| Got my eyes on my mark in the dark shootin | |
| Beam illuminate the target movin | |
| Get your organs ruined | |
| Move out like SWAT move in | |
| Got them niggaz on the backblock rootin | |
| For the bad guy.. | |
| Playground legend like Sadait? | |
| P. Kirkland... My MP state workin | |
| Shootinarm stay jerkin | |
| My Nextel stay chripin | |
| Can' t answer cause the feds lurkin | |
| Its like we catchin cancer on purpose | |
| Back to back chain smoking, nicotine feinin | |
| Conversation with demons when I' m dreamin | |
| Manicdepressive | |
| Like the man upstairs tryin to pass me a lesson | |
| But I can' t catch it | |
| The game under break the pressure | |
| They miss my presence | |
| Chorus 2X: Sparks | |
| We still not promised tomorrow | |
| Takin the bitter with the sweet up in these cold ass streets | |
| We got lifestyles through our scars | |
| We ride hard til our numbers get called | |
| The lifestyle of a hustler... | |
| Sparks | |
| I' m feelin like deaths in the air | |
| Got me back to back buckin my squares | |
| But I ain' t bitchin I ain' t scared | |
| I ain' t budgin, in fact the thrill alone turns me on | |
| Got me smiling, laughin... Clutchin | |
| My toast and confrontin mother ers | |
| Cockaroaches will not catch me laughin | |
| Skinny and slim fram y' all get it the same | |
| Cool niggaz that' ll spin out they waves | |
| Grimey niggaz that' ll spin to they graves | |
| Justifyin my foul ways | |
| I got kids to raise | |
| But mother ers rather see me sprayed | |
| Than to see me pair er | |
| Or see me on the front page like Sig | |
| Or stay rolled DC with B. Sig | |
| You bitch niggaz stay PC when y' all see me | |
| Until the day that they | |
| Fit me in the grave and the city wreak of me | |
| We got the city under siege | |
| SP or ROC | |
| Poverty is a movie starrin me | |
| Ride with no play the passenger seat | |
| So y' all can see how my life so real | |
| So y' all can see how my life so ill | |
| I came to chill.. | |
| Chorus | |
| Oschino | |
| Tales of a hustler that' s me in the flesh | |
| Got a Jag and a Caddy sellin dimes of the step | |
| Niggaz wanna take my block I had to earn my respect | |
| So I put his cerebellum on his grandma' s steps | |
| You know Oschino he' ll probly kill | |
| Got the soul of Huey Newton nigga Bobby Seale | |
| Nigga prolly take the stand he' ll prolly squeal | |
| But I got four lawyers I ain' t takin the deal Nigga | |
| We could strap without scrap or put the semi in it | |
| Gun fully loaded like the Chrysler with the hemmy in it | |
| I keep it ghetto like a 40 with the Henny in it | |
| Went to school broke loafers on no pennies in it | |
| Stood the coldest winter with the bummiest coat | |
| Need food need shoes sold dummies of soap | |
| Got tired of bein broke man life was a bitch | |
| They bring you flowers when you head but no soup while you sick | |
| So I switched my whole picture get involved with the bricks | |
| Not the ones made of semen but the ones who sniffs | |
| Tales of hustler, niggaz come for your jugular | |
| If you sell one bag to they mother in customers | |
| State P we got the city on smash | |
| Got every boulevard every street every ave | |
| Got sneakers got clothes nigga you do the math | |
| Push to hustle but the point is just to stack that cash | |
| Tales of a hustler.... |
| zuò cí : Doldinger, Grant, Lewis | |
| Vocal: Beanie Sigel Oschino | |
| Beanie Sigel | |
| Court casin.. | |
| Third felony facin | |
| No probation | |
| My heart racin like a blunt lacin | |
| Hennessy and malt liquor chasin | |
| My gemstar scarrin niggaz faces | |
| For a pound of trey eight and.. | |
| I throw bullets like Dallas Troy Aikman | |
| The callous on my index stay achin | |
| Niggaz stay hatin | |
| Got me late night pacin | |
| I' m tight boot lacin | |
| Mask on like I' m Jason | |
| Shoot up shit like Larry Davis | |
| You play the pulpit like Pastor Mason | |
| Turn cheek like Martin Luther | |
| I' m like Oswald sharpshootin | |
| Got my eyes on my mark in the dark shootin | |
| Beam illuminate the target movin | |
| Get your organs ruined | |
| Move out like SWAT move in | |
| Got them niggaz on the backblock rootin | |
| For the bad guy.. | |
| Playground legend like Sadait? | |
| P. Kirkland... My MP state workin | |
| Shootinarm stay jerkin | |
| My Nextel stay chripin | |
| Can' t answer cause the feds lurkin | |
| Its like we catchin cancer on purpose | |
| Back to back chain smoking, nicotine feinin | |
| Conversation with demons when I' m dreamin | |
| Manicdepressive | |
| Like the man upstairs tryin to pass me a lesson | |
| But I can' t catch it | |
| The game under break the pressure | |
| They miss my presence | |
| Chorus 2X: Sparks | |
| We still not promised tomorrow | |
| Takin the bitter with the sweet up in these cold ass streets | |
| We got lifestyles through our scars | |
| We ride hard til our numbers get called | |
| The lifestyle of a hustler... | |
| Sparks | |
| I' m feelin like deaths in the air | |
| Got me back to back buckin my squares | |
| But I ain' t bitchin I ain' t scared | |
| I ain' t budgin, in fact the thrill alone turns me on | |
| Got me smiling, laughin... Clutchin | |
| My toast and confrontin mother ers | |
| Cockaroaches will not catch me laughin | |
| Skinny and slim fram y' all get it the same | |
| Cool niggaz that' ll spin out they waves | |
| Grimey niggaz that' ll spin to they graves | |
| Justifyin my foul ways | |
| I got kids to raise | |
| But mother ers rather see me sprayed | |
| Than to see me pair er | |
| Or see me on the front page like Sig | |
| Or stay rolled DC with B. Sig | |
| You bitch niggaz stay PC when y' all see me | |
| Until the day that they | |
| Fit me in the grave and the city wreak of me | |
| We got the city under siege | |
| SP or ROC | |
| Poverty is a movie starrin me | |
| Ride with no play the passenger seat | |
| So y' all can see how my life so real | |
| So y' all can see how my life so ill | |
| I came to chill.. | |
| Chorus | |
| Oschino | |
| Tales of a hustler that' s me in the flesh | |
| Got a Jag and a Caddy sellin dimes of the step | |
| Niggaz wanna take my block I had to earn my respect | |
| So I put his cerebellum on his grandma' s steps | |
| You know Oschino he' ll probly kill | |
| Got the soul of Huey Newton nigga Bobby Seale | |
| Nigga prolly take the stand he' ll prolly squeal | |
| But I got four lawyers I ain' t takin the deal Nigga | |
| We could strap without scrap or put the semi in it | |
| Gun fully loaded like the Chrysler with the hemmy in it | |
| I keep it ghetto like a 40 with the Henny in it | |
| Went to school broke loafers on no pennies in it | |
| Stood the coldest winter with the bummiest coat | |
| Need food need shoes sold dummies of soap | |
| Got tired of bein broke man life was a bitch | |
| They bring you flowers when you head but no soup while you sick | |
| So I switched my whole picture get involved with the bricks | |
| Not the ones made of semen but the ones who sniffs | |
| Tales of hustler, niggaz come for your jugular | |
| If you sell one bag to they mother in customers | |
| State P we got the city on smash | |
| Got every boulevard every street every ave | |
| Got sneakers got clothes nigga you do the math | |
| Push to hustle but the point is just to stack that cash | |
| Tales of a hustler.... |
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