(feat. Big Gipp, Slimm Calhoun) (Hook x2) Never let the money and these broads break us We right here 'til the Lord take us We act a fool cuz the laws make us "Baby.. You can't stop the hustle" (Backbone) You walk your a** 'cross my yard - get off my gra** You wanna get to that money - get off yo' a** You wantsta know my name - you awsta ask If you wanna see me for somethin - it's gon' cost ya cash I see ya pokin outcha jeans girl you actin bad Oooh, do that again wit'cha nasty a** I caught her comin out the mall, with 2 or 3 bags Now shawty got her at the wood shack, throwin her back Champagne, chicken wings, and bubblebath Catch me somewhere outta town signin autographs Still workin street corners, straight servin them blacks Them thirty-two fifth it for four and a half I prefer a Cheverolet, when it's time to mash And I smoke the 'dro weed, a hundred dollars a sack I put up the big numbers n***a, check the stats And I'm on the microphone with Gipp, Slimm, and Ca** (Hook x2) (Big Gipp) Since the trashman only run once a week If I miss it, I'm wait 'til night and dump it up the street, behind the Winn-Dixie Quiver, never step or kept up his penny drawers To get an applause, appeared to have no flaws In the situation, no dentation, smellin good But I ain't gonna feel her, touchin up would be too easy Sleazy, measly, lookin ugly like a person tryna sell me a dub Fool A, C, D, and me Trees ain't my reason for sendin your a** to grave and Watch you say the grade is.. Burn like acid reflux, somebone'll order up the Pheffer chickens While I order up a smoked duck (Thank You) Get the gas to go, at the corner sto' Keep my hand on the nine piece In case somebody wanna disturb the peace (Always keepin my eyes open) Uhh, cuz you, can't, stop the hustle (Hook x2) (Slimm Calhoun) Well I'm known for my shine, Southside Eyes on the prize, it's Mr. Fly Guy Mobbin, '68 Chevy, door vault ties Jumped out muggin like I'm holdin twenty pies Rocked up, work on the block, We keep it, chopped up in the spot, in the pot Where we keep it, stocked up from the Frosty Flakes To the chickens in the cake If I drop it on the tool, it must be weight Went with two and a quarter, came back with eight Let Juke lick the plate, I re-rock the shape Like it hot in the kitchen n***a, oven on bake Got gorillas with banana clips, who love to go apes Southpaw, side-strapped, known to leave yellow tape Try and stop the hustle and crushed like grapes Just for the taste... Just for the taste.. (Hook x4) Uh-uh (Uh-huh) "Baby, you can't stop the hustle" (Repeat until fade)