Hustlin'

Dramatic, nigga. Shout out my nigga Rick Ross. Shout out to Slip 'N Slide. Kelly. My nigga DJ Khaled. Yeah. Dedication 2. That's right. Drama. I see ya. I'm so dedicated right now. Feezy Baby. Hospital. 24/7. Mad men. Bo baby. E-I-E-I-O. D2. Yeah. Now what they do you know it's Weezy F. the fucking boss. Inside the Phantom, bitch so big I probably get Lost. I pop that exhaust in my funky cold Medina. I make that hoe tip toe like a Ballerina. I'm the Miami fever and that Miami heat. I been that Miami water, I'm like a Florida Marlin. But I come from New Orleans, Nigga we still strong. And my money real long, real, real, Real long. And this my thirteenth year, Bitch I'm still gone. So my money real long, real, real, Real long. Nigga that's still on, Red beam, safety off. Murder scene, tape it off, red rum, Tomato sauce. Niggas say they paper boys, Bitch I be with caper boys. I say we be burning bodies, we don't be Burning cars. And I got a bitch with me Call her Miss Without Drawers. And I'm at the bank, nigga call me Mister Withdrawals. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Whip it real hard. Whip it, whip it real hard. You want it I'ma bring it, let Diana Ross Sing it. I'ma pull it, I'ma bang it, That's that Nina Ross singing. I be weighing open locker with that Rick Ross Banging. If you try me I reverse you, Now you Kris Kross swinging, yeah. Whip soft, top seat soft, let her feet drop. Peacock, something on my neck look like a peacock. You need not talk that street hop to me, Op. 'Cause we pop like thousand dollar bottles of That Cris' Roc. Bitch stop tripping, I've been hot. When not, I been through a way what they Just got. And niggas talk shit but when I See 'em they lips lock. Bitch pop, know I got that Ulock, Whip lock. Get shot. Bitch I bet I'm hustling when your nigga not. Bigger appetite, bigger pot. Yeah. Yeah. Weezy. Whip it real hard. Whip it, whip it real hard. Call it what you want but baby just don't Call the cops. Let 'em chase that drop, I'ma chase that guap, yeah. Racetrack jacket with the racetrack coats, Yeah. All black Maserati, chase that smoke. I'ma crack that egg open, beat that yolk. Let it soak, let it soak, watch it come Back poke, yeah. Then I hit the streets up and talk that Talk. Let it float, let it float, Never come back broke, nah. Run that shit, I'm cash money, spread butter, No sugar. Bring me all the heat, I'm the Motherfucking pressure cooker. Yeah, yeah. I could change the weather for ya. Lose your ass, the neighbors tell 'em that they Never saw ya. Close your mouth, It be better for ya. All that snitching like the cops got a medal For ya. I'm a hustler, got birth holes in metal for Ya. When you think you're ready, I be ready For ya, bitch. Shout out to the 305. Yeah. Dedication 2. Huh? Philly and Miami. thought I told them niggas. They got the official. Shout out to Mix Unit. Yeah.