Baby Smoove - Hustler Muzic lyrics

Really mo' like Wayne when he made Hustler Musik tho'
Boy you think I give a fuck?
Meech
Boy you think I give a f-

Boy you think I give a fuck what niggas say when I ain't there?
Boy don't shoot the house, wait 'til he come outside, we know he there
I got bitches callin' me, who I ain't talk to in a year
Pints fallin' in my lap like: "Come sip me, nigga here"
She tryna argue, bitch argue with' yo'self
He ain't really got no money, he can't pass-on wealth
60k, all 50's, hold my Amiri's like a belt
And she treat me like a king so she'll never need help

40 racks on a Cuban and 15 on my other one
Once this other pendant done, I'ma buy another one
Hell nah this ain't my first house, I bought another one
Swear to God I didn't try, she jus' tryna gimme some
7-8 digits, shit that's what I need in my account
If you been through what I been through you wouldn't believe I made it out
My best friend in the feds, he hang up before count
He been locked up for years but still call like he out

Pourin' 4's don't matter when you got seals put up
I'ma hit the gas if I see red and blues when I look up
Jail ain't got no commissary, can't even do a cook-up
Say whatever on the 'net but when I'm there he won't even look up
Dropped 10 'bows off to Johnny cause I know he gon' move 'em
Cause he the typa' nigga get me sauce when he approve 'em
Hell nah you can't hang, I'm a winner, you a loser
Sometimes I get mad, and get drugs, and just abuse 'em

No cap, I got 6 niggas with' me, that's 12 straps
Fishtailin' round corners, strap fallin' off my lap
Stopped uploadin', but I still got it on, no cap
Fake jewelry, and niggas hittin' drank, they tapped
I'm rich; I don't like broke bitches, I like models
This a pint, but I ain't bring it out, I filled up my bottle
Stare at me, I swear somebody with' me'll start sendin' hollow's
120 on the coupe, I'm in the trenches dodgin' potholes

Franchise 40's, blue hunnid's, blue-red
Got this new Celine jacket, lil' buddy got a tag
Paranoid, window down, he wanna race, I'm bouta blast
I'm in niggas dream car ridin' with' a hunnid' cash
560, boy yo 550 old
They talkin' like he a gangsta' but that boy told
I might sip a million pint's but I'll never touch my nose
Niggas filled out an app' but they not built for the road

I got real dogshit, I ain't never need a loan
I had-
I had real dogshit back when I was doin' phones
He was fucked up, he was really sittin' at home
300- mmmMmm-
300 for these shorts, I get high and put 'em on

Meech