Hustle Gang - Welcome To My City lyrics

(performed by T.I., Doe B, Shad Da God, Spodee) [T.I.:] Broadcastin' live from the mothaf**in' gutter With a semi-automatic, sellin' slabs with the bu*ter Me, my partna, my cousin, my brotha tryna duck them s**as And dodge undercover like a Charger Every day they see us outside, try to charge us Bail on they a**, I'ma make 'em do their job bruh Chopper spit a hundred, better pull out that revolver It'll take more than a robber to rob 'em Duh, I'm king of the mothaf**in' town Where the work come first and it all go down Where the broads so down to get the mall tore down Where that n***a ride dirty with a hundred club pound Ridin' 'round in the trunk, f** around if you want n***a lookin' for some trouble, you can find what you want Get slapped right now, p**y n***a say I won't Made 80k today, I never see a day I don't Hey n***a pull up with your order, ain't no speakin' on the phone Cause the money too long, can't leave sh** alone Home of the drop Chevy, the Chevelles and the dope Where them s**as can't chill but the real n***as don't I move a bale in a day, hundred ki's in a month Sellin' hard in the back, nun' but weed in the front n***a might f** around, make a mil' in a month Where the s**as can't hear but the real n***as won't [Hook - T.I.:] I'd like to welcome you to my city, n***a, welcome you to my trap Oh, welcome you to my city, n***a, welcome you to my trap I treat my city just like my trap, I treat my city just like my trap I treat my city just like my trap, I treat my city just like my trap [Doe B:] I'd like to welcome y'all to my city, welcome y'all to my trap spot Step up in my kitchen, there's a digi scale and a crack pot That gla** pot is for collard greens, and speakin' of that we got collard greens White boy, that Charlie Sheen, n***a f** the club, come shop with me I'm from the home of the [?], where they robbed and shot n***as Half a bag get you dropped, n***a, hearts colder than popsicles I swear it's a jungle out here, it's like Jumanji out here n***as got the munchies out here, this my trap, I'm runnin' this sh** It's 4th and long and I'm goin' for it, I said I'm runnin' this sh** Cause chances make champions, y'all n***as puntin' and sh** I done made more plays than Nick, Saban like a caveman I'm in the trap and I ain't comin' out 'til a young n***a got Ray-Bans [Hook] [Shad Da God:] Here where you gon' need some manners, here where you gon' need a blammer Oh you still swerve in a Phantom, it is outside of Atlanta, boy chill out When f**ers around, it be stressin', snatch your a** up out the Lexus Better be through with the flexin', time you get off of my exit I see the trap through my lenses, [?] for the yola I pull them hoes out them Benzs, I said I don't buy Corollas I keep nothin' here but the gas, that's why you smellin' an odor I get too much of the paper, I just might need me a folder Half a bag of gas, that's like 20 hundreds I be eatin' shrimp, meet me up at Benihana's I can't take no L, we done come too f**in' far I don't got no scale, exit out the f**in' car [Hook] [Spodee:] [?] and the heats off sendin' I don't wanna talk about the freaks I'm hittin' In the streets I'm winnin' with the cleats on in it Louis Vuitton shoes and the Keystone denim In the Chi gettin' money with the peace on in it See me with the GD's and peace throw n***as Everything paid, n***a lease long, n***a Try somethin' slick, you meet the wrong n***a I'm certified in the streets Got 4 [?] on call with choppers I ain't worried 'bout a beat You know you heard about a G n***as murder 'bout me I'ma leave that alone, I'ma get me some money I deserve quite a fee, [?] I'm the early Tyson, G, I'll knock me a n***a out the real way I learned that one in the trap, 'round the candy lady and the real J's Sold dope to keep a bankroll, but I cash in the city, you're irrelevant But whatever we do, ain't a goddamn fool Ain't goin' back to Fulton County jail again [Hook]