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song lyrics
Intro (B.A.R.S. Vs. Da Hustla) lyrics
[Da Hustla:]
Yea, You just a Performer, I was on the corner grindin the packet,
I m a Ryder, If there s drama, I m Palmin the Ratchet
And You could find me In traffic, I m in the streets,
10 Years ago I was Movin like 10 a Week,
You just a family man, Tryin settle down,
You on parole, So you scared to hold the metal now,
You moved away from the hood, I m in the ghetto now,
Yea, I grip pipes, I jus like how the metal sound,
I got the metal now, Nigga, I ain t never scared,
How the Fuck You run Philly and You ain t never there,
And I ain t never feared nuttin but god,
You went to jail, came home and ain t do nuttin but Hide,
But Fuck it, I m a Ride, I Mite startin sparkin the H,
I send rap Cats to God like Mase,
And like the car accident, I ll put another scar on your face,
But when the 5 Clap, You ain t gone Survive that!
[BARS:]
Oh, You ruthless? The record I m a Hustla Stupid,
Cause Jay Made more off the record than You Did,
And Swizz made more off the record than You Did,
So You did somethin for nuthin you doofus,
I m to sick for, any nigga with 2 lips,
And 1 tongue in his mouth, I talk to slick,
You only got a few hits and a couple fans,
And I could probly get you bodied for a couple grand,
I caught a murder, attempts I had a couple man,
But I could knuckle man, and knock you out with a couple hands,
Every bar I spit raw like a couple grams,
You the Hustla, But I ll show you how to hustle man!
[Da Hustla:]
Look, I m a Give this guy an aplause,
But It s alota lies in alot of his BARS,
Cause I m a hustla, I sold Pies of the Raw,
Plus, the hustla gon ride if it s war,
But You the type of boy that ll hide if it s war,
You the type a boy that never come outside if it s war,
So, you a nut to me, You know you can t fuck with me,
And BARS you was locked up on protective custody,
You like my son, but I don t want custody!
You a mut to me, I m a Pit, And You a pup to me,
You in the street cause you beat the case luckily!
But You ain t tough as me,
I ll burn You like a dutch-a-tree!
[BARS:]
You a snitch, You a rat, You a sing, You ll hold the note,
I sold the coke, or smoke weed till I m comatose,
I live by the rules, I was schooled by the older folks,
I was showed the ropes by the cats that was holdin toast,
Lords knows even goons get the holy ghost,
Yea, I believe in christ but I ll still squeeze a pipe,
And I don t even need to write, Or switch the flow,
You niggas know I ain t MURDA FLUKE or Cysi-Ro!
I m way sicker yo, So who ever supposed to be nice get 2 choices, the toast or the knife!
And if you think you a hustler, then You the one smokin the pipe,
Cause you ain t never sold no coke in you life, Trust me!
You must be given money away if you got 20 strips all doin 20 a day!
Cause You ain t worth shit, You went gold on your first disc,
And I m a Hustla sold less then your first shit!
song lyrics
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