Don’t make this complicated (don’t make it)
My old school candy painted (for real)
I hustle hard
When I come through they like “Oh my God!”
(That nigga clean!)

From the beginning It Was Written I suppose
I break a whole on the 36 oz – and move it
I’m a hustler, baby (can you dig it?)
I’m a hustler, baby (say what?)
My mind on the money, I ain’t tripping on the hoes
I blow a whole lot of paper on clothes, but dig it
I’m a hustler, baby (can you dig it?)
I’m a hustler, baby

Yeah, I come through, I had the hoes like “who he?”
Seats in the old school Louie
Shoes and the belt buckle Louie
We don’t need more details now, do we?
Let ’em sag, my swag is True Religion
You gon’ need Cartier frames to see my vision
It smells like cream mixed with weed, this is classy and hood
Drama llama time, nigga, what’s good?
Domino’s, muh’fucker, it’s time to collect
Stack paper like I’m trying to fix the national debt (wooo!)
I’m just doing what I wanna do, I trip through your set
This is 50 on that Muammar Gaddafi shit

From the beginning It Was Written I suppose
I break a whole on the 36 oz – and move it
I’m a hustler, baby (can you dig it?)
I’m a hustler, baby (say what?)
My mind on the money, I ain’t tripping on the hoes
I blow a whole lot of paper on clothes, but dig it
I’m a hustler, baby (can you dig it?)
I’m a hustler, baby

Get on my level, bitch, I’m careful who I kick it with
We talk market and distribution and politics (woo!)
Got a chip on my shoulder, chip off the whole block
I sell the chip of a whole rock, 10 dollars a pop
I’m a magnet, the bitch can’t help but watch me
Socks, drawers, undershirt, Versace, Versace, Versace
Designer threads in every form of fashion (uh huh)
I express myself so the question I’m askin’ (aaoow!)
Is this flip or the next flip tailor 50 shit?
We ain’t promised tomorrow, nigga, go on and get the shit (yeah)
That skull and bones, that Alexander McQueen thing
In case you ain’t notice it’s a Queens thing (wooooo!)

From the beginning It Was Written I suppose
I break a whole on the 36 oz – and move it
I’m a hustler, baby (can you dig it?)
I’m a hustler, baby (say what?)
My mind on the money, I ain’t tripping on the hoes
I blow a whole lot of paper on clothes, but dig it
I’m a hustler, baby (can you dig it?)
I’m a hustler, baby

Oh! It’s cold out here
It’s my kind of weather, I’m cold blooded
It’s 50
When I come through you see me
In the Suburbans that’s bulletproof
Bomb proof, leather six, whatever
When I go hard I go hard
When I don’t want you to see me I switch it up
I’m in that black on black Porsche Panamera
In the back like “ooh wee”
We rolling
I hustle, man, it’s what I do, man
Wait, niggas gon’ try and tell me how to do this?