All my niggas tote guns and run from one time Definition the niggas on front line

Cause they catch me with this Mack and this sack Then I might never see the sunshine so

I move mean Stack a hunnids in my LR jeans

And I'm out there until Taz hit the scene Back out there until the next time they come

Gotta sell a few zips to put clothes on my son

I ain't Seebo, but I need money by the ton Just in case I gotta funk with a nigga or

run It's so hard for this position that I'm sittin'

And I know these niggas wishin' that somebody dismissin'

But I'm listenin', it's like a premonition I see them hittin' and missin'

I guess it's my hustler's ambition I push a hard line, like a bum push a buggy

I hustle hard, that's why the whole hood love me

I hustle hardév Pour the wheel on myself

I hustle hardév Pour the wheel on myself

I hustle hardév Pour the wheel on myself

Okay, okay, fifty I'm in this benz feelin' like money

Look I hustle hard, bitch, everybody know that

Pressin' off the post to them old cats Cause I be that nigga everybody want to

I'm on the block until a n***a see them street lights

Gotta get paid, fuck what a n***a say Grind all night, hustle all day

Posted on the corner, no hallways And to knock a n***a down right in broad day

Can only come up, n***a, I done been down When it's my turn, I'ma put on the town

Two gangstas for the radio, they don't fuck with me

But I got a bunch of real n****s that fuck with me

Like my n***a Finn, my n***a Robert Real Do my time behind my eye and I never tell

Money over bitches, ain't tryna get laid I knock a bad bitch and put her under late attack

I'm finna go to the hospital, I can't feel my fingers

Been counting money all day, phone ringing off the ringer

Watching Jerry Springer, see the dope things linger

I'm at home getting blue by a R &B singer

The bitches love a little n***a like Tupac

I'm rocking with them long as they contribute to the shoot box

The dope game, where n****s never writing checks

But I ship a whole pound through the FedEx

So what's next? I got 500 for a tech

And two bricks in the back of that purple Lex

I'm in the west, two blocks from the Bronx station

With two tops cause these broke n****s stay hating

I'm paper tasting, a hundred miles and still running

So let a young n***a know when the Fed's coming

So I don't get caught with that motherfucking drumming

You know they tryna wrap me up like a damn mummy

Get it, you like me, move, move, move, move, move

Get it, you like me, move, move, move, move

I'm gonna move, move, move, move, move

Get it, you like me, move, move, move, move