Yeah, the huslta'
Philly! Larsiny Family
(Apply Pressure)
I get that bread boy
I'm a hustla for real
I get that bread boy
I'm worth a couple a mil
I get that bread boy
So f*ck how you feel. I ain't broke I sell coke and got a couple a deals
I get that bread boy
Yeah I'm a hustla for real
I get that bread boy
I'm worth a couple a mil
I get that bread boy
So f*ck how you feel. to get rich I hit the strip like what the f*ck is the deal
When I pop the shotty, it got kick but it's not karate
And when I snap you take shots like, I'm like paparazzi
I'm from philly, yo my city it's a lotta bodies
They murdaa like Irv Gotti they kamikaze
Doin music is my life yo it's not a hobbie
I fell in love with hip-hop when I heard Loddy Doddy
I'm like, I prolly could spit it and get money too
Cause I'm slick like Rick and I'm fresh like Dougie too
I'm not a dummy, never did what the dummies do
So I had the mil to burn 'fore I turned 22
I just threw the Mazzaratti on 22, inches
Cause just off interest my money grew
I just turned 26, but I act my age
I took care of all my bills, all my tax is paid
I ain't a killa but I will the rachet blades
I grab ya toasta and smoke ya like a bag a haze
You don't behave like a gangsta, you artificial
I spit like a colla co?, you a starta pistol
It ain't hard to diss you, I gotta lot to say like
Acki wack, acki a rat, acki gay
But what chu got to say, I'm killin the game
My flow dope, this how da needle feel in ya vein
I spit a dope 16 and you a dope fiend
Straight comatose, you would prolly overdose
You could tell when I was younger hung around the older folks
I'm the illest rapper, it don't matter who sold the most
Life short but it ain't over folks
That's why every day I pray to the father, son, and the holy ghost
Yeah I sold the coke, call me saint Nicholas
Cause on the strip I run through snow like it's christmas
But chu ain't never flip a brick, you a hypocrite
Chicks on my dick cause I'm young, pretty, and rich as shit
I grabbed 4 and a half then I flipped this shit
Now I'm a supplier like Merlo on the wire
You not a trappa, you a pathological liar
Get eat till ya teeth pull out with a pair of pliers
Yeah I'm fire but chu can't throw water on me
That's why ya wife and ya daughter on me
I got change, but it ain't dimes, nickels, and quarters on me
I got real cake, but chall n***as real fake
Even though I'm real great, I still feel hate
I might not got a grammy yet, but I'm still straight
Cause I'm still in the hood so I feel good
And I don't need security for me to feel safe
I straight wish that I could make all you dudes that's takin up space go take my homies in jail place
I call weed that I sell great
It's sticky weed, with no sticks, no seeds, and it smell great
And I ain't tryna have a cell mate
But I'm grindin cause time money
I ain't tryna be to hell late... EARLY
I get that bread boy
I'm a hustla for real
I get that bread boy
I'm worth a couple a mil
I get that bread boy
So f*ck how you feel. I ain't broke I sell coke and got a couple a deals
I get that bread boy
Yeah I'm a hustla for real
I get that bread boy
I'm worth a couple a mil
I get that bread boy
So f*ck how you feel. to get rich I hit the strip like what the f*ck is the deal
I get that bread boy