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Yea, youngbloodz, kill the mic, track boys |
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Yall ain't ready for this shit, |
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Yea, yea, yea, yea, yea, yea, yea |
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Ok we back and bumpin, youngbloodz that's us fo sho |
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From left to right we rockin and kickin down every door |
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Watch out now get 'em shawty, oh that's them |
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U-way boys |
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We set it off don't get twist it still out makin noise |
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Big pistol that's my word, ice cold is so superb 3 hits 4 shots |
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I'm on it, runnin you up off the curb |
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So bring your |
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A-game, we bringin hella pain |
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You disrespect my sip ill pop your back like pootytank |
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So if your ready run it, we got that shit that will |
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I'm from atlanta steady bouncin blowin off the grill |
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Cuz in the trunk its bumpin, we goin all night long |
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So grab a cup cuz ain't no way in hell you goin home [Chorus] |
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I wont get my crime around |
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I hustle baby |
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I stay down every time no day |
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I hustle baby |
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From the track or the trap fo sand |
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I hustle baby |
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No day I hustle baby no day gotta hustle baby |
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I wont get my crime around |
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I hustle baby |
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I stay down every time no day |
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I hustle baby |
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From the track or the trap fo sand |
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I hustle baby |
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No day I hustle baby no day gotta hustle baby |
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I'm a crime time hustler man, |
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I tried to tell 'em |
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My crew cuz its the ex-convict, convicted fellon |
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Banana clips bazmellons of all these stitches tellin |
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The bitches of bazballers and secrets of shotcallers |
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Of better rounds of scoppin he said lue a-town to oakland |
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Niggas prayin and hopin, they don't get caught with dope and |
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Out a catin and a crippin in chicago they folkin |
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Down south we got 36 oles trapin and focus |
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This is no hocus pocus, play the game like locus |
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Playas vibe up and whittin |
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I'm the third cosmosis [Chorus] |
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My pimpin is old school, and they chevy with bleak shoes |
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Tip tops and flip flops, adidas and suede pumas |
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Who nigga fo like yall they never goin change that |
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They slang goin where |
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I hang and my bitches they whod-a-rest |
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And we all drink du-duces of dat go for 5 |
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We'll put that hot heat like between your eyes |
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And I keep it under the seat in the summer they sweatin me |
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Comin down your street with beat sittin on some chesly feet |
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Outta town in that's gold rims, fo shawty be servin dem |
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Everytime my chevy stop my rims they still spin |
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A-town for life yall we never goin change that |
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Still roll with them dope boys on the bow with them |
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J's at [Chorus] [repeat chorus till end] |
