[Verse 1] Yo, yo, I know niggas wit honor and will That'll still crush the blow up and then pass they mama the bill So I'ma always be able to burn my strip cause my bags be stuffed and I burn my tips And it ain't no tellin what the snub'll do so when y'all go and cop S's cop one for your mother too And I'm way better than them other dudes But I'm stuck wit, what I'm stuck wit, cause I don't suck dick Sat with the players and I stood with the coaches And I'ma always be in the hood like roaches Flow is ferocious, dough is ferocious Two guns by each lung with no holsters And I control all the fishscale in the city And still make your first week sales look pretty I come through, all you hear is chip in the muffler And you could ask anybody if the Kiss is a hustler
CHORUS: Styles: He's a hustler Jadakiss: I hustle anywhere, any town, any borough, any strip, uh S: He's a gambler J: I always hold it down, gettin bankroll in 4, 5, 6 in trips S: He's a gangster J: I always make the paper and the FBI got me on they list, that's why S: He's a Ruff Ryder nigga, Ryde or Die nigga J: By the way, did I tell you that my name is Kiss?
[Verse 2] And I don't understand how a broke nigga could chill When a two liter'll dust you so get you a mil Yes I got loose ends, poppin out the sunroof of the blue M I'm like Lou Sims And I'ma make sure they hit you wit both shotties I think this summer's gon be the most bodies You never ask a nigga in jail if he chillin Just make sure you make all the sales in the building Cuz now niggas think it's all right to tell And you could put out some garbage and it might could sell Alotta niggas be petty and sheist But that's only til you treat 'em like a video and edit they life This is a threat, when I talk you listen to death And if I run out of money then my wrist is a bet And the streets said they wanted more Kiss Up north niggas pop me in, and do a hundred more dips
CHORUS
[Verse 3] Yo, whether it's dope money or rap money, gamble the shit Trey pounds of Mauseburgs, handle the shit Got too big for the city, cops brought in the feds So we moved across the map and brought in the bread Niggas chill for a month and a half, no ruckus Got the pictures of baggers and all of the gun busters And you know how it go, cuz it rarely'll change Everybody got a license and a alias name We don't smoke when we hustle and none of us talk Back to back til we home, we can front in New York Cuz some of us is runnin from court Smokin weed, mumblin thoughts Tryin to stay humble for shorts We could do this the mob way and kiss you on both cheeks Or do it the hard way and shoot through your gold teeth Stand on any block, play cee-lo and craps And break niggas for they pack money, then give it back, uh
CHORUS 2X Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
