corrija a letra Letra Hustle So Hard por G Bugz

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When I came out of jail it was pure stress fam
Every time I'd see a fed van, they'd wan' arrest man
They wanna lock me up cah I stretch grams
Had me in the can for possession with intent fam
I swear this life gets the best of me
Sat down thinking "Is it meant to be?"
Like what the f**k is my destiny?
Got haters tryna kill me off cause of jealousy
But it's all good in the hood fam, don't watch that
If it's waps, ring Faz, tell him cop that
Cah if it's beef and n***as want me shot akh
Then it's peak when J's firing shots back
You want that? We've got that
Got charse, we've got nakk
Thirty-fivе a box akh, break it down and chop that (Its cheap fam)
Hustle so hard, you could nеver stop that
Hustle so hard, you could never stop that
Coming up I pictured living in luxury
So how the f**k did I end up in a f**kery?
How the f**k did I end up with these cuffs on me?
Cla** A's got me living up in custody
I swear the feds got me moving on my tiptoes
Gotta move smart, talk Z's on the Crypto's
Chop the coke, weigh it up then I flip O's
Born broke, I'm just tryna get rich bro
With my big bro, running the town
We were running it then and we're running it now
See an opp in the ends, you know we're running him down
If he's stood on his ones or he's stood in a crowd
It's man down, man down for the opposite side
Once it's kill confirmed then we hop in the ride
Going for a killstreak, we're not stopping tonight
Still tryna get rich from shotting the white
I supply if there's demand, free my n***as in the can
My G's riding birds and my G's on remand
My cousin S got that body on his hands
Can't wait till he's home, soon land, soon land
First time I made a bag I got addicted
All this ammi and this yak got me twisted
I swear I've seen a lot of bands up in the kitchen
And yeah I'm free but I'm trapped in the system
Pops keeps telling me to go and find some work
Rather be up in the trap next to piles of dirt
Need a smoke just to go and get my mind straight
I chase the bag, that's my motherf**king mind state
It's no capping, real f**king rapping
I don't care what I wear, this is music not fashion
These man are acting, I'll say it to ya
Loudest nugs in the tins like tuna
Smoking on exotics, all about my profits
If I ain't got it, why am I gonna rock it?
These man chat sh*t when I know they ain't got it
Go and call your man babe, I'll tell him "Go and shot it"
Yo these man there are fake, they're just rappers
We touch hammers, call us the clappers
Trap star living, peng in the kitchen
We don't speak when it comes to the cameras
They write statements, run to the stations
If you're a snitch then it's boom bam blatant
Bro's on warnings, has to be patient
Anytime we go there they start skating
My Y.G. phoned, he said "G we need to pick up"
I pa**ed him the pack, I told him "G don't slip up"
Be on the ball like kick-up
You can't stay in one spot G, you need to switch up
And watch the line pick up and then we'll make the P
Before you chop it up make sure you weigh the G's
And like the olders used to say to me
F**k them b*t*hes, it's all about the paper G

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