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work ona hustle [work on my hustle] - baby jamo lyrics

[intro]
(trying to be like tall you trying to compete)
(everybody know shhh ain’t f*cking with me)
(man n*gga stop playing with tall)
(man, ‘fore i blow this p)
uh ([?])
man, [?] got you n*ggas shook ([?])
come on man ([?])

[verse]
got to f*ck with that trap and work on my hustle
i could run through them bags that sh*t ain’t about nothing
caught me a load of that white girl n*gga this hardcore i try to get it off it’s a struggle
the cluckers they love me they know i’m gon’ bless ’em
riding with glock he toting that glock 29, yeah that b*tch stuck with a vet’
n*gga you sending out rookies, n*gga we sending ’em back they ass cadets
if they don’t come back then they ass went ghost
sliding with that jamming*ass ap man that b*tch a ghost
if we crack us a n*gga we pouring up [?] hitting up [?] and we throwing a toast
n*gga we know it’s k!ll confirmеd before k!llmoe еven post
we gon’ hop on the yo then we gon’ hop on the [?]
and we coming to k!ll like osama bin laden
i’m dropping them off like harden, n*gga when we was up in houston he played for the rockets
[?] a n*gga i f*cked on his sister she was playing that role whole time i had booked her
f*ck from the back and i’m grabbing her neck and i’m grabbing her hair and i jhi like cooked her
you gon’ pull on these dreads they been through it all
i done slept in a cell i done slept in the hall
n*gga yeah i made it to the top and yeah won’t fall off
trying to be like tall and you trying to compete
everybody know shhh ain’t f*cking with me
man n*gga stop playing with tall
man, ‘fore i blow this p
and we get up on you we doing it neat
we gon’ crack us a n*gga post back on the street
don’t n0body like us but one thing they know we f*cking hitters
you ain’t busting your glock and you saying you glock man free glock jones he might be the realest
man that n*gga sucking my d*ck he want this clout he want some attention
give a b*tch 5k wanna know where you stay
i ain’t bending this rip i’ma sit where you lay
you tryna get up on me, ’bout them b*tches bet you pay to play
i don’t f*ck with no crummies i got a lil’ taste
you don’t want me to get rich i’m popping the doors in the mclaren, or the motherf*cking wraith
i’ll put me a check on a n*gga, and make them youngings, hop out with them ks
i’ll give my all i got a lil’ faith
hopping in them cars lighting strikers, up in broad day
looking from the outside looking in, we do d.o.a.s
told my p.o. “yeah i got a job i’m trapping day to day”

- baby jamo lyrics

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