Mr. Walt - The Hustle lyrics

[Verse 1] Everybody do the hustle Check it out, do the hustle Aiyo, get the hell off dat, non-personnel Only MCs allowed is those who can rock well Stop screamin', this is about the demon up in vines Brooklyn to Long Island, and you can find us Makin hits followed by music with many flicks with girls With big tits playin themselves, all across the world Is the frenzy of the get one to MC for life See many shades of pay without having trades Thoughts designed to drink more wine in the ride Breathin in air that's conditioned Many many be wishin they could wonder like I I be wonderin why, embarking on that Soul expedition The mission, of many to be licking honey vixen Blowing money just so you can re-up like Nixon's The nearest eardrum wants to take a chance Just to say that they can do the dance, called the hustle [Verse 2] S-O-S, the hustle got you stranded out in the shuffle Bagged you up in a duffle Bag (bag), I take the express zone to keep y'all locos Blowin out your noses, your mannequin poses Keep the situation plastic, I mask it (Identifyin mine takes too much time) It's a wage of higher stakes of what's more deep Some even do the hustle off-beat, it's the hustle [Verse 3] Yo, I never smoked no weed in my life Single De La brother, one kid, no wife And life can be trife, ask the Mobb from Queens Heads filled with knuckle chuckle when robbing you clean Fallin out like barrettes, be them vets that didn't know that they Could be the prayer, wrecked cops or bootleggers And all them chumps lookin for anything to toss me Figure me as a police line, don't even cross me [Verse 4] I catch theories over crews when they tell me I move Like chesspieces, wild one steps, make heroes on reps Came to toast MC's like Ted Knight, see I ignite em When they too close for comfort, and some try to come hurt My ego, man, it's big like illegal drug business Stay down, my bare witness, and just electric slide Aside, five boroughs is the way I come thorough Makin musical tunes, like my bind-tight squirrel Beatminerz design, stitched for your behind Takin you to heights you thought was too high to climb Averdeen couldn't map it where hurricane collapsed it For whatever, I'mma strap it where hon' wants to tap it (44 heads) I make a dead bird sing the hymns You doubt, I say the sh** to make a mute man shout Big up, to Phife Diggy and La, and Buck Dent Got to hustle just to pay the rent, so it's the hustle