Z-Ro, Point Blank, Mr. 3-2 - Hustlin' All I Can Do lyrics
[Z-Ro, Point Blank, Mr. 3-2 - Hustlin' All I Can Do lyrics]
May life be a trip I never knew
Things could ever get bad
As I got no love my 17 shot Glock
With extra clips that's it
I'm going all out and if
I die then remember me
Cause in these last days
I'm feeling like I'ma hit the Penitentiary
For real
Trying to deal with this every day struggle
You got to get up
Up off your rump baby and hustle
I tussle, work my muscle and boss hog
Take what's mine
And still screaming fuck y'all
If I can't ball, they better lock me up
Shackled down hand cuffed, on sight I'ma bust
What's up where your nuts
I get rushed to the head
Thug for life, motherfucker till I'm dead
Mr 3-2, boss of all bosses
And I ain't, tolerating no losses
And no excuses, cause this world is so shife
Street Game forever
And it's like that for life nigga
Will I ever, see the stage again
Radio DJs, gon respect my rhythm
Feeling like I'm finna, hit the Penn again
What will I do, for food
Living in the ghetto, turning boys to men
Crooked cops and killers
Interrupt my mission
Tell me will I ever, pimp my pen again
Hustling, is all I can do
I was born on a fucked up day
Had to be holidays
With nothing but frowns on my face
The sadness brought madness
To a family that was built
Unconsciencely I love em
But some consciencely
Running these streets living constantly
It's costing me, way too much
But the slums got me
Jacking niggas work something
Seclude, before I hurt something
Inhale exhale, ok
I promise things gon get better
Just give me one more day
So I can work my jelly spread, to love around
So I can tote my shit and hurt my belly
But trying to stay down
Stay focused on what I'm
Trying to accomplish, and not be accomplice
Stay real stay true pay dues
And don't become a victim of some mob shit
I never let this misery
Push me to do something that I regret
But just notice you in danger
I want you to feel my anger
And if I ever feel like I'm danger
I'ma empty the chamber oooh
These motherfuckers want me dead
At least that's how it seems to be
An army of motherfuckers
Against me Dean and E who you gone call
When my commratery come down like rain
Nothing but revenge to keep me sane
It ain't nothing like pain
Cause when I squeeze it then you bleed
Satisfaction is guaranteed
Black hearted ever since the first murder
Off precious is my breed
Enemies fuck all my foes, fuck all my friends
Unless I'm in the Penn
I've got nobody to call my kin
Cause all the real niggas
Are dead or in jail
But, I've been left to struggle for success
Trying to get a check
From Southwest Wholesale
Look at all the 16's that I've wrecked
And I'm practically poor
On top of that I'm homeless
My niggas don't want me no more
Fuck pretending get in
These motherfuckers act like they
Don't know my face
Better remember I'm quick to click and hit
Don't act like you don't know my pace
Well fuck rapping, i need some right now
Money it's getting crucial if I pimp my pen
I gotta wait 3 months for
Trading scraps for lunch money
Monday night, the sirens seemed so loud
I hope, that I can lose this crowd
Lately, it go down that way
That's why a nigga
Quick to get the K and spray
We could of been, so throwed together
But because I was short, it's on my cheddar
I haaaad to get up and bleed the block
And it don't stop
Things could ever get bad
As I got no love my 17 shot Glock
With extra clips that's it
I'm going all out and if
I die then remember me
Cause in these last days
I'm feeling like I'ma hit the Penitentiary
For real
Trying to deal with this every day struggle
You got to get up
Up off your rump baby and hustle
I tussle, work my muscle and boss hog
Take what's mine
And still screaming fuck y'all
If I can't ball, they better lock me up
Shackled down hand cuffed, on sight I'ma bust
What's up where your nuts
I get rushed to the head
Thug for life, motherfucker till I'm dead
Mr 3-2, boss of all bosses
And I ain't, tolerating no losses
And no excuses, cause this world is so shife
Street Game forever
And it's like that for life nigga
Will I ever, see the stage again
Radio DJs, gon respect my rhythm
Feeling like I'm finna, hit the Penn again
What will I do, for food
Living in the ghetto, turning boys to men
Crooked cops and killers
Interrupt my mission
Tell me will I ever, pimp my pen again
Hustling, is all I can do
I was born on a fucked up day
Had to be holidays
With nothing but frowns on my face
The sadness brought madness
To a family that was built
Unconsciencely I love em
But some consciencely
Running these streets living constantly
It's costing me, way too much
But the slums got me
Jacking niggas work something
Seclude, before I hurt something
Inhale exhale, ok
I promise things gon get better
Just give me one more day
So I can work my jelly spread, to love around
So I can tote my shit and hurt my belly
But trying to stay down
Stay focused on what I'm
Trying to accomplish, and not be accomplice
Stay real stay true pay dues
And don't become a victim of some mob shit
I never let this misery
Push me to do something that I regret
But just notice you in danger
I want you to feel my anger
And if I ever feel like I'm danger
I'ma empty the chamber oooh
These motherfuckers want me dead
At least that's how it seems to be
An army of motherfuckers
Against me Dean and E who you gone call
When my commratery come down like rain
Nothing but revenge to keep me sane
It ain't nothing like pain
Cause when I squeeze it then you bleed
Satisfaction is guaranteed
Black hearted ever since the first murder
Off precious is my breed
Enemies fuck all my foes, fuck all my friends
Unless I'm in the Penn
I've got nobody to call my kin
Cause all the real niggas
Are dead or in jail
But, I've been left to struggle for success
Trying to get a check
From Southwest Wholesale
Look at all the 16's that I've wrecked
And I'm practically poor
On top of that I'm homeless
My niggas don't want me no more
Fuck pretending get in
These motherfuckers act like they
Don't know my face
Better remember I'm quick to click and hit
Don't act like you don't know my pace
Well fuck rapping, i need some right now
Money it's getting crucial if I pimp my pen
I gotta wait 3 months for
Trading scraps for lunch money
Monday night, the sirens seemed so loud
I hope, that I can lose this crowd
Lately, it go down that way
That's why a nigga
Quick to get the K and spray
We could of been, so throwed together
But because I was short, it's on my cheddar
I haaaad to get up and bleed the block
And it don't stop