Correction Lyrics Hustlin' (Remix) by Rick Ross

Featuring(s) : JAY-Z & Jeezy

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Lyrics

Every day I'm hustlin'
Every day I'm hustlin'
Every day I'm hustlin'
Every day I'm hustlin'
Every day I'm hustlin'
Every day I'm hustlin'
Every day I'm, every day I'm
Every day I'm hustlin'
Hustle real hard
Hustle, hustle real hard
Hustle real hard
Hustle, hustle real hard
Hustlin', hustlin', hustle
Hustlin', hustlin', hustle
Every day I'm, every day I'm
Every day I'm hustlin'

Hold up
Who you haters think you talkin' to, I'm the fuckin' boss
White on white, G4, hater get lost
I'm in the air I don't hear niggas corny raps
Ya nigga Hov is back, that nigga Hov is back
I got a honey bun, no not a chick
I got a honey bun, millions nigga I got couple hundred them
Ninety-nine problems prick, don't become the hundredth one
'Less you got a hundred lives murder bout a hundred, uh
We don't resort to violence, we on resorts and islands
With linen shorts and shades, 'case they thought you was lyin'
My Louis slippers, Polo top
Linen shorts so my balls don't get hot, ha ha
Yeah I balls a lot, now I owns the team
Ricky Ross, Young Jeezy we owns the scene
Stop playin' with me lames y'all not my equal
It ain't no coincidence that my age is a kilo
Which means that I'm puro, which means that I'm gordo
Which means that I use a G4, like an auto
I'm a walkin' memorial
I'm legendary for whippin' whippin' that raw
So nigga just let that chorus go

Hey, let's go
Snowman bitch, I don't even wear the same drawers
Flat screens on my walls, floors look like bowling balls
I know Big Meech, the real Big Meech
It's over for you clowns soon as my nigga hit them streets
I see you ridin' homie, but that ain't hard enough
You know me I might pull up in an armored truck
I stack big faces, I stack small faces
I stack all faces, squares as white as pillowcases
I got a dirty mouth but my kitchen's clean
Them folks ridin' hid the pots and the triple beams
Hit the Dodge lot I must've copped six Magnums
Marriott suite, I must've used six Magnums
Feds on my tail, you know them boy Six Flagged 'em
Testarossa ride, like I'm on a coaster ride
G-Mix, remix still talkin' white bricks
Two million records sold and I'm still talkin' white shit

Rick Ross, Triple C's, Port of Miami, Poe Boy
305 M-I-Yayo, Dade County, this Ross
I'm the fuckin' future nigga, what you can't see the facts
Ya want them pretty things, I'm the one ya need to ask
They come cross the border, I'm fulfillin' ya order
But the second ya bought her, Fed charges get brought up
I'm whippin' the case, like I'm whippin' the base
Look ya dead in ya face now tell me how good does it taste
Willy Falcon, I'm the Dow Jones
Down South where them D-Boys ground zones
We never steal cars, what I'm puttin' miles on
Thirty feet, it cost a couple hundred thousand
My shit bigger than yours, at the biddin' wars
I'm the one they biddin' for, dog I'm just a bigger draw
I'm into distribution, I'm like Def Jam
Release fish scales, scales on my desk man

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