Work Ona Hustle

[Intro]
(Trying to be like Tall you trying to compete)
(Everybody know shhh ain't fucking with me)
(Man nigga stop playing with Tall)
(Man, 'fore I blow this P)
Uh ([?])
Man, [?] got you niggas shook ([?])
Come on man ([?])

[Verse]
Got to fuck with that trap and work on my hustle (Work on my hustle)
I could run through them bags that shit ain't about nothing (I run through that shit)
Caught me a load of that white girl nigga this hardcore I try to get it off it's a struggle
The cluckers they love me they know I'm gon' bless
Riding with Glock he toting that Glock 29, yeah that bitch stuck with a vet'
Nigga you sending out rookies, nigga we sending 'em back they ass cadets
If they don't come back then they ass went ghost
Sliding with that jamming-ass AP man that bitch a ghost
If we crack us a nigga we pouring up lemons hitting up Roof's and we throwing a toast
Nigga wе know it's kill confirmed before KillMoе even post
We gon' hop on the Yo then we gon' hop in a Honda
And we coming to kill like Osama Bin Laden
I'm dropping them off like Harden, nigga when we was up in Houston he played for the Rockets
[?] a nigga I fucked on his sister she was playing that role whole time I had booked her
Fuck from the back and I'm grabbing her neck and I'm grabbing her hair and I jhi like cooked her
You gon' pull on these dreads they been through it all
I done slept in a cell, I done slept in the hall
Nigga yeah I made it to the top and yeah won't fall off
Trying to be like Tall and you trying to compete
Everybody know shhh ain't fucking with me
Man, nigga, stop playing with Tall
Man, 'fore I blow this P
And we get up on you we doing it neat
We gon' crack us a nigga post back on the street
Don't nobody like us but one thing they know we fucking hitters
You ain't busting your Glock and you saying you Glock?
Need to free Glock Jones he might be the realest
Man that nigga sucking my dick he want this clout he want some attention
Give a bitch 5k wanna know where you stay
I ain't bending this rip I'ma sit where you lay
You tryna get up on me, 'bout them bitches bet you pay to play
I don't fuck with no crummies I got a lil' taste
You don't want me to get rich, I'm popping the doors in the McLaren, or the motherfucking Wraith
I'll put me a check on a nigga, and make them youngings, hop out with them Ks
I'll give my all I got a lil' faith
Hopping in them cars lighting strikers, up in broad day
Looking from the outside looking in, we do D.O.A.s
Told my P.O. "yeah I got a job I'm trapping day to day"