Believe That - Backbone

Never let the money and these broads break us

We right here till the Lord take us

We act a fool cause the laws make us

Baby, you can’t stop the hustle'

You walk your ass 'cross my yard, get off my grass

You want to get to that money, get off yo' ass

You wants to know my name, you wants to ask

If you want to see me for something, it’s going cost ya cash

I see ya poking outcha jeans girl you acting bad

Oh, do that again with you nasty ass

I caught her coming out the mall, with 2 or 3 bags

Now shorty got her at the wood shack, throwing her back

Champagne, chicken wings, and bubble bath

Catch me somewhere outta town signing autographs

Still working street corners, straight serving them blacks

Them thirty-two fifth it for four and a half

I prefer a Chevrolet, when it’s time to mash

And I smoke the 'dro weed, a hundred dollars a sack

I put up the big numbers nigga, check the stats

And I’m on the microphone with Gipp, Slimm, and Cass

Since the trashman only run once a week

If I miss it, I’m wait 'til night and dump it up the street,

behind the Winn-Dixie

Quiver, never step or kept up his penny drawers

To get an applause, appeared to have no flaws

In the situation, no dentition, smelling good

But I ain’t gonna feel her, touching up would be too easy

Sleazy, measly, looking ugly like a person trying to sell me a dub

Fool A, see, D, and me

Trees ain’t my reason for sending your ass to grave and

Watch you say the grade is,

Burn like acid reflux, somebone’ll order up the Pheffer chickens

While I order up a smoked duck (Thank You)

Get the gas to go, at the corner sto'

Keep my hand on the nine piece

In case somebody want to disturb the peace (Always keeping my eyes open)

Cause you, can’t, stop the hustle

Well I’m known for my shine, Southside

Eyes on the prize, it’s Mr. Fly Guy

Mobbing, '68 Chevy, door vault ties

Jumped out mugging like I’m holding twenty pies

Rocked up, work on the block,

We keep it, chopped up in the spot, in the pot

Where we keep it, stocked up from the Frosty Flakes

To the chickens in the cake

If I drop it on the tool, it must be weight

Went with two and a quarter, came back with eight

Let Juke lick the plate, I re-rock the shape

Like it hot in the kitchen nigga, oven on bake

Got gorillas with banana clips, who love to go apes

Southpaw, side-strapped, known to leave yellow tape

Try and stop the hustle and crushed like grapes

Just for the taste, just for the taste

Uh-uh (Uh-huh)

Baby, you can’t stop the hustle'