Yeah...
Yeah man we them niggaz everybody talkin 'bout
Hey yo, yo
[Verse One]
Whether it's, chips or whips or bricks of 'caine
I still shine at the end when y'all forced to rain
Changed the game, three shots parade ya Range
Hit the passenger, driver, old man on a cane
I'm a shell in the chamber, waitin to pop
Like Stoudamire on the court I'm used to movin the rock
Cruise in the drop, 740, snub in the box
My attitude shifty, never callin the cops
A Green Bay jersey, out on Bennett puffin hershey
D's on the route tryin to catch a nigga dirty
Respect the flow, better yet respect the dough
He get respect like rich and po'
Fuck a 9 to 5, I'd rather wake up and spit bars
And your wife, known to make my dick hard
Cartier lenses, 22's on my Benz's
When shit break out, y'all hit the fences
[Chorus]
We stay bent, laid back behind tint, puffin sticks, spliff up
We are the hustlers everyone's talkin about
Big belt, flossy shades, paint on glaze, nigga
We are the hustlers everyone's talkin about
Unidentifiable straps makin heat clap sicker
We are the hustlers everyone's talkin about
We about reliable scratch and gettin this math quicker
We are the hustlers everyone's talkin about
[Verse Two]
Shit I might as well be duels, cause they call me the Flowmaster
I keep ridin tracks like a natural disaster
