This Goes Out Lyrics - Jagged Little Thrill - Jagged Edge

This goes out to all them hustlers 

Everybody out there making them ends meet 

I ain't mad at'cha 

JE y'all, this goes out to everybody 

This goes out to you, this goes out to you 

(This goes out) 

This goes out to you, this goes out to you 

(I'm telling you this goes out) 

This goes out to you, this goes out to you 

(This goes out, hey) 

This goes out to you, this goes out to you 

(Oh, oh, oh, oh) 

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Some people sleep five to a bed 

Three at the feet, two at the top 

So I can't really talk about how they should live 

When I know in my heart if it came down to it 

I'd be getting down the same as them 

See Lord, tryna hustle must be something heaven sent 

A lot of rent wouldn't be made without this trade 

That we call hustlin' 

This goes out to the cats on the corner 

Stressin' and strugglin' just to get a dollar 

I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something 

Hold your head up cause they can't touch you 

This goes out to the girls in the streets 

Like going all out just so their kids can eat 

Like I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something 

Hold your head up cause they can't touch you 

This goes out... 

Photos 

I used to be half between 

Going all out and doings things that I know just wasn't right 

And now I'm looking back 

And I think just do it or never did something 

But I can tell you that 

I'd probably take a bullet in my head than leave my family unfed 

And that's the way it is 

This goes out to my homies, yeah 

This goes out to the cats on the corner 

Stressin' and strugglin' just to get a dollar 

I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something 

Hold your head up cause they can't touch you 

This goes out to the girls in the streets 

Like going all out just so their kids can eat 

Like I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something 

Hold your head up cause they can't touch you 

This goes out... 

Uh, uh, uh 

Ay yo I welcome the struggle 

Like I welcome the hustle 

Find the right one, take it and bubble 

That's on the muscle 

I ain't giving in, I'm trying to win 

And if I gotta get my hands a little dirty 

Then I'm sorry for sin 

But the Fed don't understand ain't bred 

So brothers gotta learn to bake to make bread 

Chicks use their ass and shake to make breat 

But I understand shorty keep them kids fed 

This goes out to my whole 5-5-81 click 

I often reminisce when we just dreamed of this 

Rich cars, fine homes, girls with nice toes 

Dime pieces standing in line to show us their thongs 

Went from riding six deep in a little ass jeep 

To Cadillac trucks and Benzes, prowling the streets 

We gon' ball till we fall 

Cause we fadin' em all 

Put your glasses in the air, this goes out to y'all 

This goes out to the cats on the corner 

Stressin' and strugglin' just to get a dollar 

I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something 

Hold your head up cause they can't touch you 

This goes out to the girls in the streets 

Like going all out just so their kids can eat 

Like I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something 

Hold your head up cause they can't touch you 

This goes out... 

My homies, you can't touch me 

If you don't really know 

This goes out to my homies 

You can't touch me 

If you don't really know 

This goes out to my homies 

You can't touch me 

If you don't really know 

This goes out to my homies 

You can't touch me 

If you don't really know