Rule number one: Don’t go against the grain
Rule number two: Give respect where respect due
Rule number three: If you get knocked, play games and say names
The 45 will tear you out the frame
It’s like the rich get richer and the poor don’t get fucking thing
For me ain’t nothin’ changed, but the things my money brings
My style will leave you aggy like them cats in jail
You peoples got plenty money acting like they ain’t got bail
I feel for you niggas gettin’ shot while I’m sayin’ this rhyme
Or niggas in the mess hall gettin’ chopped on chow lines
An old timer schooled me, said: “Don’t burn bridges, my friend
Imagine the G-Dub close and yo’ ass gotta swim”
I watch the fifth melt a nigga on the sidewalk in New York
Me and shorty stood from afar and had a talk
He said “I told him if he came around I’d clap him, I gave him my word
Look at his head, it’s still shakin’ – he had a lot of nerve”

If it wasn’t for the flow
I’d probably have to double back, bubble crack
I’m a hustler
If it wasn’t for the flow
I’d probably have to double back, bubble crack
I’m a hustler

Yo when the feds come in the game, loyalty is limited
Hardcore niggas start actin’ feminine
With the feds you do eighty five percent of your time
Duke, you get ten, you’ll damn near do nine
I hate a liar more than I hate thief
A thief is only after my salary, a liar is after my reality
The streets I know’em like my ABCs
Stay away from the Ds and stack ya’ cheese
Try to see three hundred Gs before you see 300Zs
Tree top to feel the breeze, coke connect for keys
Yo’ bitches sexin’ me, take me to ecstasy
Once I nut, I don’t want ’em next to me
If it’s on, mother fucker, believe I’mma ride
I’m the type to swallow my blood before I swallow my pride
Letters on my sweater read DKNY
Got grimy niggas runnin’ with me from BKNY

If it wasn’t for the flow
I’d probably have to double back, bubble crack
I’m a hustler
If it wasn’t for the flow
I’d probably have to double back, bubble crack
I’m a hustler

They say I don’t sound like a killer, well how a killer sound?
I bet I grab a 4-pound and back that ass down
See many men live, baby, and many men die
Many men get drunk, puff lye and stay high
Here’s a jewel: love your enemies and hate your friends
Your enemies remain the same, friends always change
I learned quick that there’s more than one way to skin a cat
You can get ’em in the face, dog, or down his back
All bullshit aside now, its time to be honest
I fear no man, for death is all that’s promised
I got niggas standin’ in line waitin’ to hear me spit
From ’86 to ’96 the game went from sugar to shit
This for you niggas in the background dyin’ to shine
I hate you like fiends who ask for a dime for nine
Ain’t nothin’ changed in the game, but faces and names
The state, the weight, the date and the jake

If it wasn’t for the flow
I’d probably have to double back, bubble crack
I’m a hustler
If it wasn’t for the flow
I’d probably have to double back, bubble crack
I’m a hustler