humble hustler - cashclick boog & rio da yung og lyrics
[intro: cashcl!ck boog & rio da yung og]
i’m tellin’ you, brodie, all you ogtta do is run that lil’ time down to come home, man
n*ggas already know what it is, this sh*t already on the floor
b*tch, you already done f*cked the game up, you know what i’m sayin’?
so they waitin’ on you
you fell what i’m sayin’?
just run that lil’ time down, n*gga
when you come home, n*gga, we gon’ ball, you heard me?
i f*cked the game up, boog
and i don’t even wanna rap with n*ggas no more, man
i ain’t gon’ lie, b*tch, me and louie been workin’, i’ma keep it one hundred
we, we got a whole tape complete, we ain’t even dropped yet
mike been f*ckin’ with me too
the whole gang been f*ckin’ with me, for real
n*ggas in there, we be back to back, you already know i don’t be writin’ nothin’ down
you know i’m in there with louie, he showin’ me the sauce
bro givin’ me the sauce
i don’t even be writin’ no more
can’t be stealin’ the sauce neither, b*tch
can’t be tellin’ n0body the secret sauce right there, that’s the sauce right there
that’s the comeback sh*t
crazy bag when you come back
crazy numbers when you drop, that’s the—
yeah, def jam gotta— yeah, what up? yeah
that’s that type of numbers
we gotta put the numbers on the board, man
(oh, it wasn’t produced by rj? throw the beat away)
[verse: cashcl!ck boog]
i know them balenci sock runners ain’t fake, what your sneaker say?
oh, it wasn’t produced by rj? throw the beat away
i got the ball and passed it off to my dog, we playin’ keep*away
i’m tryna run me up a half a million for jesus sake
diss your dead n*gga just like gucci did all in jeezy face
tell the opps i’m ridin’ with an oven, come get easy*baked
tell the plug i’ll be there ’round eight, what’s your eta?
racks on me in my ghetto, boy, like that sh*t peezy claim
i’ll buy a box of ‘woods with a hundred and let ’em keep the change
i’m startin’ to peep when your money change, that’s when people change
when i get to poppin’ adderalls, i don’t sleep some days
i been f*ckin’ hoes before the ice, i don’t need no chain
my whole life, i had to take chances, hit the road, go get it
i can be in a whole different state and still control my city
i be out in kc with the crips shootin’ four*five*sixes
even on d, we tryna score, yeah, we goal line blitzin’
just did seven more runs, i’m tryna pull up in a rolls by christmas
leavin’ out of ice champs on tip while i’m holdin’ my pistol
i had to go catch a body first just to mold my k!ller
still sick when i think about stacks, i can’t control my feelings
walkin’ out the club p*ssy drunk, i can’t hold my liquor
biggest mistake n*ggas ever made was when they stole my n*gga
every two months, i’m tryna put up a hundred*some
i had to grind ’cause ain’t no handout when your stomach touchin’
once i make three million off rappin’, i’m done with hustlin’
my brodie rich, but he don’t own no ice, he a humble hustler
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