MusicGu.ru

(intro)

[spm]

Yo, yo, I wanna welcome, welcome everyone to hustletown

Are we recording?

Alright lets do this fellas.



Chorus: [dope house artists]



For years Ive been working on the block of rock,

For years Ive been keeping nina glock on cock. (4x)



For years homeboy, for years....



[baby beesh]

Now if you wanna battle me then its on,

Im blowed while Im creeping up whip out my tek so now you gone.

You shouldnt have tried that set up now you ass is getting wet up,

Cuz real gs from the southeast will leave you haters trying to get up

Youll definitely get dealt with if your bitch ass has a death wish,

And on your grave I tag

Its the motherfucking rick that you dont mess with

So let me keep stressing that lesson

To all yall players and yall haters

Haters keep watching yall back

And yall players keep creeping and stacking that paper



[baby bash]

(now) now why do these haters wanna plex

Why do they wanna be starting mess

Get the fuck out my face is what I suggest

Cause I really dont think that you wanna test this mex

Coming straight out the south east side of that tex,

So if theres something you gotta get off your chest,

Its best that you dont express it.

Its hard enough for a messican,

So I really dont need all that plexing,

Theres all kinds of player haters out there

So please wait let me tell you about those.

First you got them fraud ass hoes,

Then you got them fraud popos,

Then you got them fraud ass niggas in the street

Who just wanna plex and take yours



(chorus 4x)



[low-g]

Guess whos back from the pen,

Out to win, sipping gin with my kin folk,

Gots the grin on my face when I come through

If you aint down with these gs motherfuck you

Cause theres a straight up struggle in my barrio,

Second ward getting high on the patio,

And when Im wet Im a threat to a rival set,

I get respect when I step with my new tek,

Dont sweat I check hoes daily,

On the regular talking to your lady,

On the cellular creeping on the lowride,

In the middle of the night with no lights,

In the four-five, chilling at the dope house

Low-g is something you dont know about

Little tricks on my dick twenty-four seven,

Treat them like a bitch, and still got them hoes begging.

Keep it real for my people, I fear no evil

Staying high till I die flying like a eagle



(chorus x4)



[spm]

Youre superficial talking about life with a pistol

But youse a hoe living life clean as a whistle

My missles, oh they do leave body dimples,

Attack your whole staff like a pack full of pitbulls.

You simple, Im complex,

And coming on next, oh take a wild guess,

The south park mex,

Spark sess blow smoke in the darkness,

You dont wanna start mess with the heartless,

I be the smartest, hottest, artist.

My gm shine brighter than the golden arches,

Shooting star yes, ol trick no blow indo

Before they kick door, then flip coke,

Tip-toe to the top,

Tellin thug tales of wicked love spells,

Hoes and drug sales, some fell,

In fact its most,

So a toast to my niggas who died in the smoke.



(chorus 8x)



(outro)

[spm]

H-town, hustletown, did this for yall, my boy low-g.

(intro)

[spm]

Yo, yo, I wanna welcome, welcome everyone to hustletown

Are we recording?

Alright lets do this fellas.



Chorus: [dope house artists]



For years Ive been working on the block of rock,

For years Ive been keeping nina glock on cock. (4x)



For years homeboy, for years....



[baby beesh]

Now if you wanna battle me then its on,

Im blowed while Im creeping up whip out my tek so now you gone.

You shouldnt have tried that set up now you ass is getting wet up,

Cuz real gs from the southeast will leave you haters trying to get up

Youll definitely get dealt with if your bitch ass has a death wish,

And on your grave I tag

Its the motherfucking rick that you dont mess with

So let me keep stressing that lesson

To all yall players and yall haters

Haters keep watching yall back

And yall players keep creeping and stacking that paper



[baby bash]

(now) now why do these haters wanna plex

Why do they wanna be starting mess

Get the fuck out my face is what I suggest

Cause I really dont think that you wanna test this mex

Coming straight out the south east side of that tex,

So if theres something you gotta get off your chest,

Its best that you dont express it.

Its hard enough for a messican,

So I really dont need all that plexing,

Theres all kinds of player haters out there

So please wait let me tell you about those.

First you got them fraud ass hoes,

Then you got them fraud popos,

Then you got them fraud ass niggas in the street

Who just wanna plex and take yours



(chorus 4x)



[low-g]

Guess whos back from the pen,

Out to win, sipping gin with my kin folk,

Gots the grin on my face when I come through

If you aint down with these gs motherfuck you

Cause theres a straight up struggle in my barrio,

Second ward getting high on the patio,

And when Im wet Im a threat to a rival set,

I get respect when I step with my new tek,

Dont sweat I check hoes daily,

On the regular talking to your lady,

On the cellular creeping on the lowride,

In the middle of the night with no lights,

In the four-five, chilling at the dope house

Low-g is something you dont know about

Little tricks on my dick twenty-four seven,

Treat them like a bitch, and still got them hoes begging.

Keep it real for my people, I fear no evil

Staying high till I die flying like a eagle



(chorus x4)



[spm]

Youre superficial talking about life with a pistol

But youse a hoe living life clean as a whistle

My missles, oh they do leave body dimples,

Attack your whole staff like a pack full of pitbulls.

You simple, Im complex,

And coming on next, oh take a wild guess,

The south park mex,

Spark sess blow smoke in the darkness,

You dont wanna start mess with the heartless,

I be the smartest, hottest, artist.

My gm shine brighter than the golden arches,

Shooting star yes, ol trick no blow indo

Before they kick door, then flip coke,

Tip-toe to the top,

Tellin thug tales of wicked love spells,

Hoes and drug sales, some fell,

In fact its most,

So a toast to my niggas who died in the smoke.



(chorus 8x)



(outro)

[spm]

H-town, hustletown, did this for yall, my boy low-g.

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