Heart of a hustler, mind of a G Playa hating niggas, can’t fuck with me Heart of a hustler, mind of a G Keke smoking tree, blowing up the industry
'Sace shades, Dobb hat, dressed to impress
Candy red drape and buck, TV’s in my head rest
Rolling on blades, chopping up blocks
Rolley, bezeltine, baguettes filled with rocks
Two Glocks, what did you expect
Six hundred Benz, ten thousand on my neck
Watch this boy wreck, then recollect
Grab the black pen, and sign for the check
Notorious but glorious, I made it understood
Rap game executive, put it down for the hood
Mayn it feel good, to ride and get blowed
Billion dollar dreams, me and Kay thinking thoed
Breaking down the beat, Solo has provided
Dead End Alliance, Herschelwood has collided
Heart of a hustler, mind of a G Playa hating niggas, can’t fuck with me If you really wanna know, who we are
When you coming down, like a superstar
If they really wanna know, who it be It’s Fat Pat, and the boy Mike D I got the mind of a G, in this game
Addicted to the paper, so I can’t escape it mayn
Mind on the voyage or, sha’ll I say a mission
Back up in the kitchen, and my palms still itching
Baby mama’s still bitching, cause I ain’t got time
Trying to make a mill ticket, paper’s on my mind
I’m chart climbing, steadily shining
Watch and ring filled all up, with diamonds
Yellow hoes minding, bumper kit reclining
I’m the first nigga to put the funk, up on your mind and
Heart of a hustler, mind of a G Procrastinate, but you can hate the P-A to the T I got the heart of a hustler, mind of a G Bending big corners, in my 3−20
I’m sitting low to the ground, plus I’m mobbing on 20's
Young up in the game, and got a pocket full of money
So much jealousy and envy, plus these haters perpetrating
In the end they fall to the waist line, while the strong niggas make it
I’mma stay up on my game, get the paper 'fore fame
It’s all up in the game, know I’m tal’m bout mayn
Cause real gon be real, and fake gon be fake
But I’m gon kick back, and let them boys playa hate
Trying to talk down a real G, from the hood
I hold the damn wood, and keep the point up understood
Heart of a hustler, mind of a G DEA representative, and full time S. U to the C who it be
A paper made G, from Dead End who sin
Quickest way to get out, and get in this game
I got’s to get wit it, I’m holding my nuts
And riding on buck, and these niggas just can’t get with it Let my top down, on a Sunday
Drug deals and homicides, occurring on that Monday
It’s a one way ticket, down this lane of slamming do’s
Pimping hoes, wearing creased clothes
And riding blades on lows, fo' life we together mayn
Paper gotta get better mayn, G fin to get with the stain
Ain’t no mo', slanging caine
Thoed piece on my neck, don’t try to neglect
While I’m draped in Armani, and I’m sipping Moet
I live the life of the mob, too smart to rob
Ain’t no sleeping on the job, when I tilt’s my Dobb
Cause the subject is paper, and I’m on that chase
Lack lusters silly busters, ain’t no time to waste
Erase your thoughts, while I make my disclosure
Too calm gat in my palm, can’t lose my composure
I’m like Gotti, Rolls Maserati
Those who don’t know, better ask somebody
Sport Versace to the toes, and every playa knows
That sometimes best friends, transform into your worst foes