Hustlers (feat. The Game & Marsha Ambrosius)

Dre, he a Compton, Compton OG

Nas, he a QB QB true G

Do the history

Way before the firm, like back in the day

Nas was the first New York **** rapping with Dre

So of course I got a track to bring it back to your face

The one kid that would've been

Aftermath that got away

But we still get together like every several years

To sprinkle, a little bit of Heaven for your ears

Relax sipping Cliquot in Rio

Stupid fuckers

Low-key, know G's, but it's still Gucci luggage

I love Cape Cod, and watching fly bitches with grey eyes

Wrestle in a tub of KY to get my day by

I like to celebrate, why?

'Cause I can vision collages and images

Of my lies with no regret to hate

So every breath I take, is all about the rules

It's hard for you to breathe like you at high altitude

So crack the Patrón, it's on heathens

The God's back, hard body

Mr. Jones never leaving

Hustlers, dealers, drop-top riders

Make that cake, cop two five fivers

Pimps and players, platinum diamonds

East to West coast we riders

Hustlers, dealers, drop-top riders

Make that cake, cop two five fivers

Pimps and players, platinum diamonds

East to West coasting open

He a Compton, Compton OG

Mix that with a QB QB true G

What you got's a concoction of some different ghetto blocks

West Coast kill the tracks, East Coast gunshots

He a Compton, Compton OG

Mix that with a QB QB true G

What you got's a concoction of some different ghetto blocks

West Coast kill the tracks, East Coast gun

1995, eleven years from the day

I'm in the record shop with choices to make

Illmatic on the top shelf

The Chronic on the left, homie

Wanna cop both but only got a twenty on me

So fuck it, I stole both

Spent the twenty on a dub sack

Ripped the package off Illmatic and bumped that

For my **** it was too complex

When Nas rhymed

I was the only Compton **** with a New York state of mind

Inside the dope house bottling up sherm

Banging The Firm

Dre was king then so I waited my turn

Fast Forward, now I'm making 'em burn

Ended my peers careers, hollered at Nas

A hard lesson was learned

So I reconciled my differences like he did with Jigga

I stopped beefing with ****

'Cause I'm Ether to ****

Comb the earth till there's no one left

If I Ruled The World I summons all you weak rap **** to death

He a Compton, Compton OG

Mix that with a QB QB true G

What you got's a concoction of some different ghetto blocks

West Coast kill the tracks, East Coast gunshots

Yo, the Jordan sporting

Come off the dice game with a fortune walking

You a walking coffin

The musket, I tucked it, you bluff it, bust it

You're sideways talking

So I lay often

I wait patient, to duct tape hating

Fuck ass ****, get bucked ass ****

Pluck ashes, of Cuban cigars, you fooling with Nas

That's my name and I came with Rugers this time

And if I'm sane that Soul Plane movie's the bomb

Word to my mom's name tattooed to my arm

You can't evolve me, embalm me, calm me or harm me

Rob me or dodge these bullets I'm busting

See that's malarky you yapping

I open up the tripod to put the gatling on

And I start clapping

Nasty man, from bagging grams and running from cops

To a mill on the hand, a mill' on the watch, I'm fucking with Doc

Hustlers, dealers, drop-top riders

Make that cake, cop two five fivers

Pimps and players, platinum diamonds

East to West coast we riders

Hustlers, dealers, drop-top riders

Make that cake, cop two five fivers

Pimps and players, platinum diamonds

East to West coasting open