I'm a Hustler

I stay paid and,

I like blades

Old shcool cars and, lovin

Maze I've got hoes (I've got hoes)

I can show

Gettin money a-, ridin

Rolls (ridin Rolls)

Keep my grind

I don't, waste my time

Comin up, gettin down for mines

I'm a hustler baby, and

I gots to have it

I'm a hustler baby, and

I gots to grab it, ahhh [Pimp C]

Deep up in the game, ain't no stoppin

I get my money like

Johnny 'Guitar'

Watson Pimpin them hoes and put the bitch on the track

And tell the ho to bring all my money back

I wanna holla at that boy

Ike Turner

You gotta know it's 'bout the paper and you learn her

About gettin on the corner for your daddy

What love got to do with it,

I'm in the

Caddy I got a yellow-ass ho that'll suck you up

That'll blow in yo' butt ain't scared to shit

And she'll bend over, take it like a

G Because you know the bitch down with

Pimp C I switched my name, to

Jack Tripper

Now the hoes tryin to pull down my ****ing zipper

And get to that snake with the cobra head

I got some homeboys doin life in the fed [Chorus: Mayfield falsetto (Pimp C)]

I'm a hustler baby, and

I gots to have it

I'm a hustler baby, and

I gots to grab it, ahhh (See me on the slab, whippin in the Nav', you already know I'm cookin in the lab) (See me on the slab, whippin in the Nav', you already know I'm cookin in the lab) [Pimp C]

When I was young, alls

I wanted was a 'llac

I used to think them crack fiends that was blowin on the dick sack

Cause all

I did was cut up cheese

And sell dope and come through with the thang with ease

I used to have, a .25 pistol

But now I got some shit that shoot like a missile

I tuck a A

K, HK too bitch

I eat you up

I ain't goin for that ho shit

Them other bitch niggas playin games in the streets

You think it's 'bout bein lame and makin lame beats

We ain't 'bout you and them fake niggas

Cause **** boys, could easily get hit with the trigger

You think you rich?

But you a bitch

You see me in the club check my pitch

I'm down with

J. Prince bitch, and you know that

When we come through splittin big niggas hats [Chorus: Mayfield falsetto (Pimp C)]

I'm a hustler baby, and

I gots to have it

I'm a hustler baby, and

I gots to grab it, ahhh (I'm whippin in the Nav', comin on the slab, you already know I'm cookin in the lab) (I'm whippin in the Nav', comin on the slab, you already know I'm cookin in the lab) [Pimp C]

Twenty-fo'

I'm a country star, in a country car

Got a country-ass bitch, sip country bar

Got a country son, got a country chain

Come and got in the car, and grippin country grain

Sweet Jones bitch,

Pimp (peeeimp) knahmtalkinbout?

Go out and get that shit

I'm talkin 'bout doin, a million records independently sold, on yo' bitch ass

So when you see me in the city recognize

I'm already paid

When you see me choppin on blades, {?} bitch

Not them phony-ass blades with no knockers on 'em

Representin that side,

P.A. to B-zay

And ain't no thang to beat a bitch-ass bitch

Ain't no Blood and no

Crip, fake-ass bitch

I'm [?] I told ya, bitch [ad libs to fade]