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Lupe Fiasco

Genres: Hip-Hop

Hustalz Song Lyrics - Lupe Fiasco

Chorus: [ah ha] Ohh baby mmmmmmmm oh baby! [talk to em] 

ohhh baby [its what hustlaz do, this is a hustlaz song, 

this hustle is gone] 

 

Let me what the sun don't like, caught somewhere 

between stop and go like yellow lights. [ah ha] hustla so i 

got to get it mellow ride me down the block around the 

clock nothin nice. I roll like cherry red yellow dice just 

watch it pop call it the "kettle white", its hot, just 

the block, call it the "ghetto wife", Paul McCane its my 

ball and chain, mi amor. 

 

Hopefully I won't fall and hang, like pictures on the wall 

or halls of fame. Its jus a boy man, look what it all 

became nothin all, but look at all remains, all the flossy 

things, marks from all the claws and fangs, remarks from 

all of yall have changed. Bustin back all yall I trained, 

apologize cuz of all of yall I blame. 

 

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[Chorus] This what 

hustlaz 

do. An you ain't did it to a hustlaz do. An you didn't know 

it till a hustla knew. An you ain't done till a hustlaz 

threw. I'm a customer too its what hustlaz do. an you ain't 

seen it till you seen it from a hustla'z view. open yo eyes 

its a hustlaz song. God forgive if the hustle is wrong. 

 

Its bigger things so he becomes to know shit. Striving to 

be numba one till I overdose.I speak it now on my tongue 

hold it from youngest son, runnin from older quotes, "Thou 

shall not sin, thou shall not steal, thou shall not kill, 

thou shall not turn your back on those in need, i try to 

flip, but these government slips teach me at these chosen 

speeds. I'm just a rows of weeds. and i roll 

with reasons to stay on the road a lead till I leave with 

what I sow, sold my soul indeed, leave me son with a sum of what I sold in deeds. I'm foldin yo, Probably headed for 

the pin like some bowling balls, kept it directed at the 

pen and wrote it for yall. 

 

Photos 

 

[Chorus] 

 

It takes a lot of patience when you takin it on, a lot of 

patent a lot of makin it known, but I ain't the type of 

nigga that be placin it on.I was the king of this city now 

they replacing the thrown. I know its a lot of hatin waitin 

at home, and she ain't waitin you can hear the bass in her 

tone, like she can't make it alone in a broken home and she 

the brace for the bone just embracin the phone 

a lot of ballin up letters a lot of erasing the poems, a 

lot of comin to grips that you gonna be facin alone. All 

this time all this time you was wrong.But you know whatever 

happens I got you, and you know what happened done happened 

they was happy to drop you, not letters and shoes, no 

chedda, Yo mom sold shoes and sweaters shes not better. 

 

[Chorus] 

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