"Hustlin" lyrics
Dramatic, nigga!
Haha! Shout-out my nigga, Rick Ross!
Shout to Slip-N-Slide!
Khaled! (My nigga, DJ Khaled!)
Yeah! Dedication 2! (That's right!)
Drama! I... see you!
I'm so dedicated right now!
Fee, baby! (Gangsta Gri-zillz!)
Hot Spitta! Mack Maine!
Twenty-four-seven!
Po, baby! E-I-E-I-O!
D2! (Gangsta Gri-zillz!)
Yeah, now what they do?
You know it's Weezy F. the fucking boss
Inside the Phantom bitch so big I probably get lost (Ill!)
How bout that exhaust, and my Funky Cold Medina
I make that ho tip toe like a ballerina
I'm the Miami fever, in that Miami Heat
Hop in that Miami water, I'm like a Florida Marlin
But I come from New Orleans, nigga, we're still strong
And my money real long, real real real long
And this' my thirteenth year, bitch, I'm still going
So my money real long, real, real, real long
Nigga that steel on, red beam safety off
Murder scene, tape it off, red rum, tomato sauce
Niggas say they're paper boys, bitch, I be with caper boys
I say we be burning bodies, we don't be burning cars
And I got a bitch with me, call her "Miss Without-Drawers"
And I'm at the bank, you could call me "Mr. Withdrawals"
Everyday I'm hustling (yeah), everyday I'm hustling (yeah)
Everyday I'm hustling, everyday I'm, everyday I'm
Everyday I'm hustling, hu-hustling, hustling, hustling
Whip it real hard, whip it, whip it real hard
If you want it I'mma bring it let Diana Ross sing it
I'mma pull it I'mma bang it that's that Nina Ross singing
I be way in Opa-Locka with that Rick Ross banging
If you try me, I reverse you, now you Kris Kross-swanging, yeah
Whip soft top seats soft leather feet prop
Heat cocked, something on my neck look like a peacock
You need not, talk that street hop to me Ak' 'cause we pop
Like thousand-dollar bottles of that Chris Rock
Bitch stop tripping I been hot, when not
I been threw away what they just got
And niggas talk shit but when I see 'em their lips lock
Bitch bop, know I got that ooh wop grip lock, get shot
Bitch I bet I'm hustling when you nigga not
Bigger appetite, bigger pot; eat!
Everyday I'm hustling (yeah!), everyday I'm hustling (Weezy!)
Whip it real hard, whip it, whip it real hard
Call it what you want, but baby, just don't call the cops
Let 'em chase that drop, I'mma chase that guap
Yeah, racetrack jacket with the racetrack locs
Yeah all black Maserati taste that smoke (Gangster!)
I'mma crack that egg open, beat that yolk
Let it soak let it soak watch it come back bulk, yeah
Then I hit the streets up and talk that talk
Let it float, let it float, never come back broke, naw
Run that shit, I'm Cash Money's bread and butter, no sugar
Bring me all the beef, I'm the motherfucking pressure cooker
Yeah, yeah, I could change the weather for you
Lose your ass, the neighbors tell 'em that they never saw you
Close your mouth, it be better for you
All that snitching like the cops got a medal for you, ha!
I'mma hustler, got work hoes and metal for you
When you think you're ready, I'll be ready for you, bitch!
Shout-out to the 305! (Yeah! Dedication 2!)
Whip it real hard, whip it, whip it, real hard
Philly and Miami! They got the official!
Huh? I thought I told them niggas
Shout-out to MixUnit!
Haha! Shout-out my nigga, Rick Ross!
Shout to Slip-N-Slide!
Khaled! (My nigga, DJ Khaled!)
Yeah! Dedication 2! (That's right!)
Drama! I... see you!
I'm so dedicated right now!
Fee, baby! (Gangsta Gri-zillz!)
Hot Spitta! Mack Maine!
Twenty-four-seven!
Po, baby! E-I-E-I-O!
D2! (Gangsta Gri-zillz!)
Yeah, now what they do?
You know it's Weezy F. the fucking boss
Inside the Phantom bitch so big I probably get lost (Ill!)
How bout that exhaust, and my Funky Cold Medina
I make that ho tip toe like a ballerina
I'm the Miami fever, in that Miami Heat
Hop in that Miami water, I'm like a Florida Marlin
But I come from New Orleans, nigga, we're still strong
And my money real long, real real real long
And this' my thirteenth year, bitch, I'm still going
So my money real long, real, real, real long
Nigga that steel on, red beam safety off
Murder scene, tape it off, red rum, tomato sauce
Niggas say they're paper boys, bitch, I be with caper boys
I say we be burning bodies, we don't be burning cars
And I got a bitch with me, call her "Miss Without-Drawers"
And I'm at the bank, you could call me "Mr. Withdrawals"
Everyday I'm hustling (yeah), everyday I'm hustling (yeah)
Everyday I'm hustling, everyday I'm, everyday I'm
Everyday I'm hustling, hu-hustling, hustling, hustling
Whip it real hard, whip it, whip it real hard
If you want it I'mma bring it let Diana Ross sing it
I'mma pull it I'mma bang it that's that Nina Ross singing
I be way in Opa-Locka with that Rick Ross banging
If you try me, I reverse you, now you Kris Kross-swanging, yeah
Whip soft top seats soft leather feet prop
Heat cocked, something on my neck look like a peacock
You need not, talk that street hop to me Ak' 'cause we pop
Like thousand-dollar bottles of that Chris Rock
Bitch stop tripping I been hot, when not
I been threw away what they just got
And niggas talk shit but when I see 'em their lips lock
Bitch bop, know I got that ooh wop grip lock, get shot
Bitch I bet I'm hustling when you nigga not
Bigger appetite, bigger pot; eat!
Everyday I'm hustling (yeah!), everyday I'm hustling (Weezy!)
Whip it real hard, whip it, whip it real hard
Call it what you want, but baby, just don't call the cops
Let 'em chase that drop, I'mma chase that guap
Yeah, racetrack jacket with the racetrack locs
Yeah all black Maserati taste that smoke (Gangster!)
I'mma crack that egg open, beat that yolk
Let it soak let it soak watch it come back bulk, yeah
Then I hit the streets up and talk that talk
Let it float, let it float, never come back broke, naw
Run that shit, I'm Cash Money's bread and butter, no sugar
Bring me all the beef, I'm the motherfucking pressure cooker
Yeah, yeah, I could change the weather for you
Lose your ass, the neighbors tell 'em that they never saw you
Close your mouth, it be better for you
All that snitching like the cops got a medal for you, ha!
I'mma hustler, got work hoes and metal for you
When you think you're ready, I'll be ready for you, bitch!
Shout-out to the 305! (Yeah! Dedication 2!)
Whip it real hard, whip it, whip it, real hard
Philly and Miami! They got the official!
Huh? I thought I told them niggas
Shout-out to MixUnit!
Writer(s): Joseph Cartagena, Nicholas Loftin
