Hustle Cuzz (feat. Flame Destruction) [Radio Edit]

Uh, Flynn, let's do it, yeah Batman, you did this Uh, uh 444, I need a chocho roll, legs come and go If I get caught, I'll hold my own, keep my mouth closed On ten toes, cop a chicken, get a elbow For the dough, just let me know, drop the work on the floor Hustle cuz I was poked, hustle cuz I was poked Hustle cuz I was poked, hustle cuz I was poked Hustle cuz I was poked, hustle cuz I was poked Hustle cuz I was poked, hustle cuz I was poked Four-five, four-four-four, like, nigga, don't run Can't shoot a man with a gun, I'm a man without it Can't doubt it in this bitch, feelin' like Bobby at a switch Know I fucked up, high smokin' on this, got it Number one dream is to get all my ice, body Pop, pop, pop, New York Young Shooter, you copy Kill them and I'll fold, pop his top Oppa probably ain't need a mop, still ridin' around dope In my sock, went to the club a other day with a Glock Don't run, be on bullshit for fun I'm done, freezin, droppin' till sun Many muscles, smackin' opps, many blunts Get shorty with the glue, we ain't lookin' like a medic And I switched up now, and I'm back at dred again Bitch-ass nigga, broke bitches, big bitches Broke bitches, big bitches, broke bitches So keep your missus, big bitches Broke bitches, big, big, big, big Four-four-four, I need a church roll Let's come and go, if I get caught Hold my own, keep my mouth closed On ten toes, cop a chick and get a elbow For the loach, just let me know Drop the work on the floor Hustle cuz I was broke, hustle cuz I was broke Hustle cuz I was broke, hustle cuz I was broke Hustle cuz I was broke, hustle cuz I was broke Hustle cuz I was broke, hustle cuz I was broke Got a swisher in this bitch, and it's bout to shoot It's gon' stutter like, and drrrr, and jump sticks Niggas know that I'm a real nigga for life And I ain't tryna risk my life for nobody I'm a type of person, put it in your life I'm a type of person, gon' f*ck your wife But me, I won't think twice Hell nah, can't roll like that And look at my jewelry, my chain cost a brick All these haters, I be bustin' my bar down Peanut butter, jelly time Sometime could be in the wrong Camila had a crack back then, but guess what I really don't care if you backdoor me or cross me You dead, son of a bitch, f*ck 84 I don't f*ck with them niggas They backdoor me and cross my family And from the rack, feel like E to E For real, you get shot From the rack, feel like Draco For real, you get shot Made his ass, dude, don't spend his more We torching with them lighter We made his ass, be on a freaky go Four for four, I need a church roll Legs come and go If I get caught on my own Keep my mouth closed On ten toes, cop a chicken Get an elbow Drop the word, on the floor I shoot guns, I was poor I shoot guns, I was poor I shoot guns, I was poor I shoot guns, I was poor I shoot guns, I was poor I shoot guns, I was poor I shoot guns, I was poor I shoot guns, I was poor