Naughty By Nature - Hang Out And Hustle lyrics

The C-R-U-D-D-Y, the C-L-I-C-K It's texture pure terror a street professor aggressor scale and measure clever compressor stretching salary stacks be running blocks as a factory structure capture the raw product I manufacture, fracture critic chatter n***a catcher as I blast a cop matter capsule shatter scatter midnight disasters clips I rather gather then flip for what I'm after now and forever money makes things better at a regular gets me j**elry, b**hes, bankcards, cars and competitors proposed threats wreck necks and puff ya puzzled see trouble muzzles when I hang and hustle. Booda Bop, Boom, Bam, Bink, Bick Bow Bookow, Ratatat, Klack Klick, Klick Kow, Klick Kow put brains with muscle. Hear a crew of guys utilize they sk**s. Bang out hang out slang out work and hustle. Flip techniques over boogie bangin' beats. A street fleet with Moet, dank and freaks in twenty separate suite I'm servin' dope lyrics holding weight, just like Chris Webber a warrior from Golden State, and I conjure up raps I bet you don't know any they be hitting like that brick that smacked Reginald Denny. Collects cash n' checks on a jet to meet the next client as I arrive at L.A.X. I'm up early so I catch my phlegm spit step then stash the stem 10 clips in ten sh** bottles are sectioned in wit a clip thick a block stocked wit protection see X again tools ta fry and unified like Mexicans but if sh** is slow in comin' a fiend that's one thing thats when you see twenty n***as running to one fiend. Yo black tops I got that yellow high for hours buy from me now or next time I swear I'll sell you flour I got dreams of getting a 98 or a Caddy living fatty plus I got a little man calling me daddy my lady and little man they need me and I need 'em I gotta see em and please 'em but first of all clothe & feed 'em so we can see freedom even if I jeopardize my time and life while I'm in this game I'm making sure that mine is right from the beginning to the end its dividend to the end so I like to hang out and hustle wit my friends. Well it's Friday night and the weekend's here. All that partying sh** must take a seat to the rear. Instead of f**in' wit those phony ghetto chicks I'd rather be movin' my clips with my homies on the bricks my fingers stay hard. My hands stay full of ash. My fingenails stay dirty that's from burying my stash. Fiends are bummin', money's comin' to say the least, but I'm out there flippin' clips feeding the belly of the beast. It's first of the month money's comin all day all night and too many going for theirs I'm cuttin' sales off with my bike. Now with my n***az in session we freestyle rhyme. Reminiscing moving that sh** 20's of clips at a time.