Lyrics:
a cliffhanger, no, I ain't a stranger
Yo, I'm Toddy Tee, and I'm a Compton banger
Wanted by the F.B.I. for transport of
Sucker MC's across the Syndicate borders
Living like John Gotti
Chopping bricks like karate
Drink a bunch of codeine
Serving to the dope fiends
Blowing money, stay clean
Michael Jackson,
caught the signs of time will try to blind, all your ghetto dreams
Got plagues like AIDS, city full of dope fiends
Like K say, is there a better place for
West west yall
William Holla with the S yall yall
Know what time it is
Woof! Can't spell the west without the "es"
DJ Clue beyotch! Kurupt!
I fall
from Staten Island
(Ah Mister Cee, and you don't stop)
Yo, times is getting hard, word is bond
I swear to God i even got caught trying to
Steal from
(feat. Juan Gotti, Baby Bash, Carolyn, Coast, Grimm, Low-G, Lucky Luciano, Powda, Quota Key, Rasheed)
[Verse 1: Juan Gotti]
Razaville Texas
The way life is goin', bein' asking how I'm doin' (How I do)
I'm gettin' by, doin' just fine, gettin' high, on the grind like pretty much at all times
It
from the hood
I hold the damn wood, and keep the point up understood
[Hook - 4x]
[Kay-K]
Heart of a hustler, mind of a G
DEA representative, and full
hustlers naturally born
With street smarts
Yo Karate it's you and Gotti
Y'all lift the weight
Me and Noyd, a gemstar hit down on the plate
The Mobb niggas
That's s a Bugatti (that's a bu whaa?) whoo
I'm feeling like gotti (I'm feeling like whoo) Oh
I feel like Gotti (yeah) Oh
A rebel no rowdy (woah)
I pass
hustlers at
I said now where my hustlers at
Where my hustlers at
I said now where my hustlers at
Where my hustlers at
Big time hustlers and about all that
[wyclef talking:]
Yo to my people doing time, xzibit, juvenile, y'all need to
Nature, ja rule, reptile come on
Bring the heat.
[xzibit]
Look,
[D-Gotti]
Throw yo, hands in the air
Wave em side to side, like you just don't care
[Big Moe]
I wanna know, if
Y'all sip, purple potion
[D-Gotti]
Where they
gangsta shit
I say No Limit loud, cause we ain't scared of nobody
Organized by P or should I say, John Gotti
Real niggas, put ya guns up if ya feel me
But
your dial on 187
Now, some new music by some
Homeboys out of South Central here's ATL
And they called this one livin' like hustlers
Let me start it off,
Green tops, boulders and bottles
Soldiers who follow leaders
You owed 'em dollars
Know that tommorrow you might not see it
Packs got knocked off by
you do, because like times hard
It's like here, nigga hop, nigga clips... to the glock
I hits yo' block an watch his shit every stop (It don't stop)
16, eyes full of hope
Bagging up grams at the Hyatt though
The news called it crack, I called it Diet Coke (oh!)
At the same time, hiding from mama,
jux, rush the doors
Here come the D's, time to make breeze and guns toss
In full force, my team'll go at your main source
My 9 Taurus hit bosses
Living like John Gotti
Chopping bricks like karate
Drink a bunch of codeine
Serving to the dope fiends
Blowing money, stay clean
Michael Jackson,
to get a bag and never make it back home
Bulletproof truck, I'm full time rapping
I wasn't living like this when I was still trapping
Son seen me shed
times, puff puff pass
Big Snoop, big Daz young Gotti, get it Gotti
Somebody in here smellin like hot karate
And that’s the way you comin up in this
No
wit that shit, Poppin off at the mouth ima split yo shit
Hall of fame, hall of fame, I made the hustlers hall of fame
Hall of fame, hall of fame, I made
Yo yo
Sit back, toss dice in a knick trap,
Serve big crack in white T's and fitted caps,
These sick reps, this my life you just spit raps,
I been
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