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Hustlin
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Lil Wayne
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1
Yeah, now what it do you know it's Weezy F. the fuckin boss
2
inside that Phantom bitch so big I prolly get lost
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how bout that exhaust, and my funky cold medina
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I make that hoe tip toe like a ballerina
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I'm the ~Miami fever~, in that ~Miami Heat~
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I been in Miami water, I'm like a ~Florida Marlin~
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But I come from New Orleans nigga we still strong
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and my money real long, real real real long
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and this my thirteenth year, bitch I'm still goin'
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so my money real long, real real real long
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Nigga that steel on, red beam safety y'all
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Murder scene tape it off, red rum, tomato sauce
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niggaz say they paper boys, but bitch I be wit caper boys
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I say we be burnin bodies, we dont be burnin cars
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and I got a bitch wit me, call her "Miss Without Drawers"
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When I'm at the bank, you could call me "Mr. Withdraws"
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If you want it I'ma bring it let Diana Ross sing it
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I'ma pull it I'ma bang it that's that Nina Ross singin'
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I be weighin a block up wit that Rick Ross bangin'
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If you try me I reverse ya, now you Kriss Kross swangin' yeah
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Whip soft top seats off leather feet prop
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Heat cocked, somethin on my neck look like a peacock
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you need not, talk that street hop to me Ak' cause we bought
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Like thousand dollar bottles of that Chris Rock
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bitch stop trippin' I been hot, when not
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I been threw away what they just got
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and niggaz talk shit but when I see em they lips lock
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bitch bop, know I got that ooo wop griplock, get shot
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bitch I bet I'm hustlin' when ya nigga not
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Bigger appetite, bigger pot, EAT
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Call it what you want, but baby just dont call the cops
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let em chase that drop, I'ma chase that guap
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yeah, race track jacket wit the race track loc's
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yeah all black Maserati taste that smoke
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I'ma crack that egg open, beat that yolk
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Let it soak let it soak watch it come back broke yeah
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then I hit the streets up and talk that talk
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let it float let it float, never come back broke, naw
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run that shit, I'm cash money's bread and butter no sugar
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bring me all the beef, I'm the motherfuckin' pressure cooker
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Yeah, yeah, I could change the weather for ya
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lose ya ass, the neighbors tell em that they never saw ya
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close ya mouth it'd be better for ya
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all that snitchin like the cops got a medal for ya
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I'ma hustler, got work hoes and metal for ya
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when ya think ya ready I'll be ready for ya, bitch Yeah WEEZY
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Dedication 2
Rick Ross - Hustlin'
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