Rick Ross – Hustlin' Lyrics

Produced By: The Runners
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[Hook]
Every day I'm hustlin'

[Verse 1]
Who the fuck you think you fucking with? I'm the fucking boss
745, white-on-white, that's fucking Ross
I cut 'em wide, I cut 'em long, I cut 'em fat
I keep 'em coming back, we keep 'em coming back
I'm into distribution, I'm like Atlantic
I got them motherfuckers flying across the Atlantic
I know Pablo, Noriega
The real Noriega, he owe me a hundred favors

I ain't petty nigga, we buy the whole thang
See most of my niggas really still deal cocaine
My roof back, my money rides
I'm on the pedal, show you what I'm running like
When they snatched Black, I cried for a hundred nights
He got a hundred bodies, serving a hundred lives


[Hook]

[Verse 2]
We never steal cars' but we deal hard
Whip it real hard, whip it, whip it, real hard
I caught a charge, I caught a charge
Whip it real hard, whip it, whip it, real hard
Ain't 'bout no funny shit, still bitches and business
I'm on my money, shit, still whipping them Benzes
Major league, who catching because I'm pitching
Jose Canseco just snitching because he's finished
I feed em steroids to strengthen up all my chickens
They flying over Pacific to be specific
Triple C's, you know it's back, we holding sacks
So nigga go on, rat, run and tell em that
More cars, more hoes, more clothes, more blows

[Hook]

[Verse 3]
It's time to spend my thrills, custom spinning wheels
I ain't drove in a week, them bitches spinning still
Talk about me cause these suckas scared to talk about me
Killers talking bout me, it ain't no talk about me
It ain't no walking round me, see all these killers round me
Lotta drug dealing round me going down in Dade County
Don't tote no twenty-twos, Magnum cost me twenty-two
Sat it on them 22's, birds go for 22
Lil' mama super thick, she say she 22
She seen them 22's, we in room 222
I touch work like I'm Convertible Burt
I got distribution so I'm converting the work
In the M.I.YAYO, them niggas rich off that yayo
Steady slanging yayo, my Chevy banging Yayo

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