Vado, Nipsey Hussle - What You Need lyrics

Welcome to the concrete jungle
Slow grind, dope line, block need bundles
Weatherman rain stacks, RIP Bundles
Damier, grey black belts, sneaks, duffles
That's a old fit, red bumper hold bricks
Custom van droved it, 100 grand road trip
Patrick Swayze Rolls Royce on some ghost shit
I don't spit, want a sixteen
Take the whole clip bitch!
I don't talk, I'm who they talk about
Never chase
They chase me soon as they see me walkin' out
Everyday he ain't sick wit it
I bring his coffin out
No green you couldn't sell? if you were?
I go hard with the best crooks
No cash, pay with credit cards or a checkbook
We been better, got bars make the rest shook
Trendsetters, show the rock stars
Or the prep look

What you lookin' at? What you lookin' at?
We in the kitchen by the
Stove where we cookin' at
We on a mission in control
And you shook of that
Money clothed, bank rolls
Yeah we good with that
We jumped up, we party
Like what you need, we got it
Like what you need, we got it
Like what you need, we got it
We jumped up, we party
Like what you need, we got it
Like what you need, we got it
Like what you need, we got it

One track mind, gotta get this money right
Young ass nigga on his grind
All my fuckin' life
Niggas goin' broke, they don't hustle right
I get 10, 000 a show that's every other night
On stage forty minutes catch another flight
Shopping when I land just to
Keep my luggage light
Clown niggas talkin' loud I
Don't fuckin' like
Baby fuckin' me cuz she say
He don't fuck her right
Look, I been ballin' since my other life
Scared money stay broke and I was on the dice
Learned early niggas fake and
Kept my circle tight
And put the money over bitchies
Rollies under ice
Was never lookin' at my dreams
Through a fuckin' pipe half a kilo
Cuban Linx 'fore I touched the mic
Gangbangin' lookin' back though
We wasn't right
It got my nigga Page double life

Yo honey dip
I been gettin' fly on the money tip
My money flip went from rubberbands
To a money clip get money
Yet he don't understand who he fuckin' wit
I represent from that bottom
It's evidence that it's Harlem
Yeah, they like you better win
Cause you got 'em
I never spend but I cop 'em
My sweater? Red Bottoms
Hot, Close range when the iron blow
Shit, I need a whole
Thing on consignment though
It's not a game I ain't tryna pro
I rather slang 'caine like behind the stoves
Check Nipsey left tipsy
Chicks with me, had the six in se'n fifty
Bricks filthy, hit the strip with wet milky
Not guilty, took a step and left quickly
Money out of violence and drugs only
Vado be that mothafuckin' thug homie