Masters of Illusion - East West Hustlers lyrics

Yo whassup kid?
Yo every motherfuckin year I spend $70, 000
For a fuckin picnic, 4th of July
You motherfuckers come and eat up my shit
Now that's right bitches too
Bring your own fuckin brown paper bag
Get out my fuckin yard nah na not this year
I'm not fuckin with motherfuckers
I'm stickin niggas up
Puttin 'em on the grill
Charcoalin motherfuckers that's right

I call up Motion
Crank the pipes in the green Cutlass
Stankhead roll
Super fly spinner on gold Vogues
From here to Texas playin Master P
In the Lexus
Speakers and rearview, comin to
Bangin through you
Strippers that wiggle wind up
Out them short pants
And bitches can dance here's yo'
Tip baby suck my dick
That's on the Ampex reels
Countin dollar bills
Don't smoke no bit that weed
Man smell like shit

I'm built for action
My hairy chest with gold chains
Just smokes a fraction
And saves some for the brain
My ostrich headband, playin ball
Move upon the floor like I'm Allen
Show my crossover now
Cadillac the fifth wheel
Six hoes in the back keith packin the steel
Nigga how the fuck you comin
Out with this scallywag?
She ain't ridin in my Lub
With that kitchen and that kinky perm
I belly rub her
And take that other fat ho with the blubber
I roll like Daytons
Very expensive for you ones on budgets
My name is Clifton
Capital C-lift off, giraffe jacket
Puma jeans, trout shoe, elk hat
Yo rub my back 'til my penis
Bulge out of my slacks
Be like a crook and stab you right
Up in your tuna and hug it i got the bait
Five Cadillacs deep in yo' state
Be like them Vogue tires, gold trim
I fucked you you're fired





You know how it is
I hear a noise and take my
Shit straight to the shop
Nigga FIX MY SHIT and run it by eight o'clock
Who she roll with
Clyde that down South Southern-ass raw nigga
Yo tell him you with Clifton
And Lady Jones clockin these figures
You see we all connected
My leopard spot drawers got infected
I had a velvet condom
Eagle socks, tyrannosaurus rex, turtlenecks
Niggas sweatin in a drop-top Vette
But it ain't mine

44 mag glove compartment and the plastic bag
I come real with shit
Bobby who you fuckin with?
You down South with the Klabman
Close your fuckin mouth
I'm Lenny Jones, chewin steaks
Y'all eatin chicken bones
4th of July them city boys
Come and start trouble
Uncle Harold lightin ass with
The double barrels winchester sawed-off
Blast a motherfucker's neck off
We blow yo' leg off
The shirts and yo' whole head off
We called the ambulance
Paramedics in yo' progress my cousin Ricky
With jheri curls through yo' vest
Double ocks catch crews out
There in many spots
Big boy Uncle Pete, down South hustler
Go help Aunt Reese
You motherfuckers bring the mustard
Chicken salad
Don't fuck with grandma layin on the palette
Y'all take aim and rest
With liquor on yo' fuckin breath


Crossover samples, don't try to come
Like you Rambo get in yo' ass again
You get the real blast again

Took some tokes, Clifton, liftin
Suck my anal, the baldheaded kid unclog yo'
Shit like Drain-o