Work Ona Hustle lyrics

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

[Verse]
Got to f*ck with that trap and work on my hustle (Work on my hustle)
I could run through them bags that sh*t ain't about nothing (I run through that sh*t)
Caught me a load of that white girl n*gga 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 b*tch stuck with a vet'
n*gga you sending out rookies, n*gga 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 b*tch a ghost
If we crack us a n*gga we pouring up lemons hitting up Roof's and we throwing a toast
n*gga 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, n*gga when we was up in Houston he played for the Rockets
[?] a n*gga I f*cked on his sister she was playing that role whole time I had booked her
f*ck 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
n*gga 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 f*cking with me
Man, n*gga, 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 n*gga post back on the street
Don't nobody like us but one thing they know we f*cking hitters
You ain't busting your Glock and you saying you Glock?
Need to free Glock Jones he might be the realest
Man that n*gga sucking my di*k he want this clout he want some attention
Give a b*tch 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 b*tches bet you pay to play
I don't f*ck 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 motherf*cking Wraith
I'll put me a check on a n*gga, 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"