|
This goes out to all them hustlers |
|
Everybody out there making them ends meet |
|
I ain't mad at'cha |
|
J E y'all, this goes out to everybody |
|
This goes out to you, this goes out to you |
|
This goes out to you, this goes out to you |
|
This goes out to you, this goes out to you |
|
This goes out to you, this goes out to you |
|
Some people sleep five to a bed |
|
Three at the feet, two at the top |
|
So I can't really talk about how they should live |
|
When I know in my heart if it came down to it |
|
I'd be getting down the same as them |
|
See Lord, tryna hustle must be something |
|
That was Heaven sent |
|
A lot of rent wouldn't be paid without this trade |
|
That we call hustlin' |
|
This goes out to the cats on the corner |
|
Stressin' and strugglin' just to get a dollar |
|
I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something |
|
Hold your head up 'cause they can't touch you |
|
This goes out to the girls in the streets |
|
Like going all out just so their kids can eat |
|
Like I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something |
|
Hold your head up 'cause they can't touch you |
|
This goes out |
|
I used to be half between |
|
Going all out and doings things that |
|
I know just wasn't right |
|
And now I'm looking back |
|
And I think just do it or never did something |
|
But I can tell you then |
|
Rather take a bullet in my head than leave my family unfed |
|
And that's the way it is |
|
This goes out to my homies, yeah |
|
This goes out to the cats on the corner |
|
Stressin' and strugglin' just to get a dollar |
|
I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something |
|
Hold your head up 'cause they can't touch you |
|
This goes out to the girls in the streets |
|
Like going all out just so their kids can eat |
|
Like I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something |
|
Hold your head up 'cause they can't touch you |
|
This goes out |
|
Ay yo I welcome the struggle |
|
Like I welcome the hustle |
|
Find the right one, take it and bubble |
|
That's on the muscle |
|
I ain't giving in, |
|
I'm trying to win |
|
And if I gotta get my hands a little dirty |
|
Then I'm sorry for sin |
|
But the Fed don't understand ain't no bread |
|
So brothers have ta learn to bake to make bread |
|
Chicks use their ass and shake to make bread |
|
But I,aint mad at ya shorty keep them kids fed |
|
This goes out to my whole five eight one click |
|
I often reminisce when we just dreamed of this |
|
Rich cars, fine homes, girls with nice toes |
|
Dime pieces standing in line to show us their thongs |
|
Went from riding six deep in a little ass jeep |
|
The Cadillac trucks and |
|
Benzes, prowling the streets |
|
We gon' ball till we fall' |
|
Cause we fadin' em all |
|
Put your glasses in the air, this goes out to y'all |
|
This goes out to the cats on the corner |
|
Stressin' and strugglin' just to get a dollar |
|
I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something |
|
Hold your head up 'cause they can't touch ya |
|
This goes out to the girls in the streets |
|
Like going all out just so their kids can eat |
|
Like I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something |
|
Hold your head up 'cause they can't touch ya |
|
This goes out |
|
My homies, you can't touch me |
|
If you don't really know me |
|
This goes out to my homies |
|
You can't touch me |
|
If you don't really know me |
|
This goes out to my homies |
|
You can't touch me |
|
If you don't really know me |
|
This goes out to my homies |
|
You can't touch me |
|
If you don't really know me |
