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Hustler Lyrics

"Hustler" was written by Dwight Grant, Malik Cox, Robert Kirkland.
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"Hustler" was written by Dwight Grant, Malik Cox, Robert Kirkland.
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I'm a hustler, not by choice

I didn't fall from Heaven, I rose from hell
Big boy, get bagged, he gon' hold my bail
It's like Attica '67 when they, closed the jail
Be careful but promote yo'selves that's what they told me

Involved but unconcerned fuck beef
When it dissolve it does not return
I don't leave, stagnate nor move off-beat
So discrete very rarely, do I move on feet?

I rough-ride twin rugers on the sides of my seats
Drive-by's, bodies left on both sides of the streets
I blacks out, never blind by the size of the image
No disguise, homocide don't rely forensic

Homes's finished, scramblin' caught in the scrimmage
12 shells ricochetin' and it pours from the hemorrhage
Get the casket embalm and forget the bastard for movin' backwards
New York's number one draft pick

I'm a hustler, not by choice
I'm a hustler, not by choice
I'm a hustler, not by choice
I'm a hustler, not by choice

All this nigga know is, get money burn a lot of smokes
Lazy niggas was sleepin', I was wide awoke
Not a joke, creep on snitches, niggas gotta choke
When it's time to sleep with the fishes, I supply the boat

And I swear it hurts, I supply the coke
'Cuz don't nothin' scare me worse than dyin' broke
Iron pokin' on my ribs while I'm layin' in a Taurus
I live this shit y'all just performers, it's a dirty game

I seen thugs turn informers
Crooked cops run in the crib, no warrants
Money talk though, never stuck in a grudge
Got a female lawyer and she fuckin' the judge

I was once told that you reap what you sow
And a, the scent of weed always seep in your clothes
And a, it's quiet money so we speakin' in codes
Like, why should I trust ya? Nigga, I'm a hustler

I'm a hustler, not by choice
I'm a hustler, not by choice
I'm a hustler, not by choice
I'm a hustler, not by choice

Unh, yo, Jesus Christ yo, he just nice
Like a Ginszu blade nigga, he just slice
And get y'all out the game, dog, it's not long
Anybody can spit, fagot but can you make a hot song?

You're not wrong, like Biggie said, "You're dead wrong"
Need to get your flow tight, gotta get your head strong
Watch us, the way we floss up in coat lockers
Walk right past security, flippin' poppers

Like what, who the fuck gon' stop us?
Y'all wait until' the summer, when this fuckin' album drop us
I know y'all hate it because y'all flows outdated
You finished as an artist and I finally made it

But I paid my dues, in this game patiently waited
Niggas ain't gimme shit, I had to take it
It's A dot, all year 'round I stay hot
Nigga I play not, ride through you're block in that gray drop

They call me headhunter, the head is all I aim for
The top spot nigga, what you think I came for?
These words touch you, cut you open like a chainsaw
And now you're your man is like, what y'all said his name for?
Fuckin' hustler, motherfuckin' animal

I'm a hustler, not by choice
I'm a hustler, not by choice
I'm a hustler, not by choice
I'm a hustler, not by choice
I'm a hustler
I'm a hustler

Songwriters
DWIGHT GRANT, MALIK COX, ROBERT KIRKLAND

Published by
Lyrics © BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC, EMI Music Publishing, Royalty Network, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

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