Hustle Town Lyrics - Hustle Town - South Park

[spm talking] 

Eh he he he he 

Hustle town my city maan! 

Born and raised baby 

Yo I dedicate this jam to all the single mothers 

Raisin' men in a big city 

I know it's hard 

Let 'em know what's up filero 

[verse 1: filero] 

I sell drugs with thugs 

Hittin' licks off tricks 

Workin' two jobs a dope deala and a pimp 

Mom's beggin' me to stop everyday 

So scared for me to walkâ¦. memory lane 

But mom don't worry my teck protect well 

I told ya one day this rap shit gone sell 

But my heart been broke from the start 

Since the day my father died when I was seven in the park 

So I wrote the book 

How to pimp hoes and kick do's 

And if I kill well than that's just how the shit go 

Pull yo strap 

What am I supposed to sweat 

This the third time today that I come close to death 

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[chorus: spm] 

Hustle town hustle town 

The city of dreams 

Where we creep through the hood 

And we serve them dope fiends 

Hustle town 

The shit don't stop 

Roll rental cars 

And we keep the glock cocked 

Hustle town 

The city of dreams 

Where we creep through the hood 

And we serve them dope fiends 

Hustle town 

The shit don't stop 

Roll rental cars 

And we keep the glock cocked 

Photos 

[verse 2: spm] 

Set 'em up 

Wet 'em up 

Etceteras 

Tell ya treasura 

Empty the regista 

Shit serious 

I'll give ya life a period 

Well here he is 

The kid with experience 

Don't start shit 

Mistake me for an artist 

Flash in the dark 

Someone tell 'em where his heart is 

Blue light 

Who die? 

Tonight 

Maybe over two dice 

Maybe cause he blew fry 

On top of ya 

With the hillwood mafia 

Hard hittin' hustlas 

Beat the draws off of ya 

Knowledge 

While my shit be flawless 

Dope house records step into my office 

[chorus: spm] 

{lord loco talking] 

It's ya boy lord loco 

Know what I'm talkin' bout 

Representin' that h-town wit my boy spm 

There's a lot of frauds out there know what I'm sayin' 

What you think 'bout them fraud ass niggas los? 

[verse 3: spm] 

Jackin' jaws 

I'm packin' balls 

Smoke and split 

I give mo' gifts than santa clause 

Wit a cold forty-ounce and a sack of hay 

Chug a lug for the thugs who done passed away 

Mista da masta mystical mexican maniac 

Competition ha ha 

You muthafuckas make me laugh 

You a bitch if you hatin' on my houston hits 

I fight devils like you wit a crucifix 

Ruthless shit 

With a shotty 

Take ya body 

Gun kung fu 

Mixed wit ak karate 

I'm sorry but you the past like atari 

As I smoke like marley 

Stay brown like charlie 

[chorus: spm]