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sam lachow - my hustle song lyrics

[verse 1: sam lachow]
i wanna big big big big big, uh
i wanna big white limo
something just h-lla simple that’ll pop a pimple off the hardest pimp on the block (i want some)
sittin’ high, like those video guys
seattle cops yellin’ “c-cksucka, throw the first rock sucka”
dare you, double dog look for trouble
couple hooligans zoomin’ up 23rd and union movin’ around
well backpack rappers glued to the ground
shit, long as their bars rhymin’, they gon’ keep on grindin’
that’s what i tell ’em
if you not worried ’bout ya money, why you yellin’?
i can turn that pretty squirt into a felon
all these rappers want some beats but i don’t sell ’em
that’s what i tell ’em
uh, ’cause i’m a stock broker
a box broker pot smoker, [?], rhyme spitter
i’m not hearin’ your suggestions, i got plans of my own
and if it’s not about a dollar, i don’t answer my phone

[hook: b skeez]
how ya feel?
we ’bout to turn a dollar to a mill’
we tryna turn this into somthin’ real
if you ain’t about a dollar, what’s the deal?
we out here hustlin’, f-ck how ya feel, that’s how we feel

[verse 2: ryan campbell]
look, bad seed but believe it. we done grown up now
remember sneakin’ out my house just to roll up loud
i got some o’s up, hold up, what is the hold up now?
i used to sell it through the town, i got a whole store now (come on)
pounds, grams, and ounces, we don’t deal in milligrams
musta hit like fifty grand off that purple mini van
’cause we don’t hit drugs no more, we make deals
sit down and shake hands over them eight course meals
’cause man, i got in this game like back in ’05 and ’06
see back then, shit, you could get the whole five for two sips
move up to nine-packs, i need to go find some new shit
now all i care about’s my warehouse, you feel me?
i’m a corner cutter, an order stuffer, get the quarter cut up
sorta hustler? stand the f-ck off, you better order somethin’
man quit frontin’ and get ya ol’ hustle up
this is america my dude, you make ya own f-ckin’ luck

[verse 3: b skeez]
i’m a bud grower, blunt smoker, money thrower
dreads lockin’, heads boppin’, feds watchin’
fist thrower, lift roll then piff blowin’
lane switcher, palm city, valley n-gg-, uh

[outro: b skeez]
wow, what’s hangin’ witchu, huckleberry slim, motherf-cker?
[?] money lookin’ -ss motherf-cker [?], man
just give ya boy a call back, boy
you already know, man, i’m tryna get it poppin,’ man
holla at ya boy

- sam lachow lyrics

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