lirik lagu dolla - i luv it
yeah
it’s the gang
we hustlin’ i’m ready to hustle
fresh out the blocc boy movin’ up and no
gotta strech it out boy i’m tryna get dough
i’m hustlin i’m hustlin
just bought a 100 pounds in the hour it was sold
city lookin’ dry boy i gotta get mo
i’m hustlin i’m hustlin
i know i make it look easy, but this sh~t hard
gotta learn to plant ya feet young and take that charge
little homie facin’ life, he beat that charge
smit the bird on the lawyer, that’s 18 large
trap sh~t ain’t a game everybody can’t do it
it’s like a bad b~tch everybody want screw it
numbers low i just wait for the drought
hit n~ggas in the head 15 for a ounce
you can’t do it imma teach you how to count
my numbers never off my n~gga i got clout
dough boy fresh see some sh~t you can’t pr~nounce
got rubber band money east side out the bounds
wake up! hustlers we don’t sleep
on our grind all day so we seldomly eat
n~ggas talkin all day so we seldomly speak
boys hungry in the street and you look like meat
double hustle these days you either trap or you rap
heard you around the holidays so i got my scr~ps
and i hope you got yours, flossing to get you guilt
cause the renegades come destroy whatever you built
look you n~ggas h~lla bummy so you hustlin’ wrong
12 hundred for the sneaks i be hustlin’ strong
watch ya b~tch take a peak heard her sang my song
break down the whole thang watch ya b~tch get gone
can’t leave me alone, i’m feelin’ myself
in my godd~mn zone and nuts under my belt
it’s up on the shelf, i don’t need no help
better off takin the chrome and k!llin yourself
birds drive downsouth for georgia for the summer
reminiscing on the days when i used to drive a honda
now we back to back in them europeans
me and scr~pp, two gats nothin’ like see me
game time he gone chocke like willie beamen
i see the pressure he got deamons on the side
bustin’ out the highway you gotta take me alive
i hope you catch my vibes, are you catch vibes?
heard heaven got a ghetto imma live in the sky
n~gga take mine never boy, i’m willin to die
got rich over pies my n~gga i can’t quit
spend my money h~lla fast cause this sh~t gone quick
beat em all with garbage bags i’m the black saint nick
all my n~ggas doin’ good b~tch take you pick
say she like a n~gga swag want taste my d~ck
blue rag left pocket, he bangs crips
b~tch i’m never fallin off i got a h~ll of a grip, i don’t slip
swag out of the roof
mama raised a good man, got stamina and juice
call the truce, you don’t want these problems
dress in all black 4.4 revolver
dumpin at your hat h~ll yeah i got em
from the shoot out to the studio
ask the lord why he had to let my n~gga cooli go
they say the good die young
and i’m a h~ll of a good n~gga so i keep my gun
i don’t run, i’m a standup n~gga
lookin death in the eye
down the barrel of the trigga n~gga
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