Ronald "Slim" Williams - Bloodline lyrics

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Ronald "Slim" Williams - Bloodline lyrics

[Verse 1] The streets make the hustlas Hustlas make the world go round The world is made of keys, ounces and pounds The keys, ounces and pounds is made from hustlas See how sh** come back round for ya Gotta cop it, chop it and cook it See how sh** come back round for ya Gotta kick in the oven now watch it bubble And you can knock on my door But you can't knock the hustle But I- it's like a game of twenty-one and I got nineteen And my Jake but I put more 'd' on me Lil Weezy Wee gon eat that's how it is Got insurance on the floor man I'm that positive And I'm shaggy in the saggy lens Me an my squad in the paddy wagon tally Benz And you know I put the mags on that .45 mack with the flash on that Who want it Everybody sing along [Hook x2] Now I'mma ride cuz I got riding in my bloodline And I'mma shine cuz I got shining in my bloodline I get that dough cuz I got hustle in my bloodline I bleed concrete [Verse 2] And when I move, I move out with the raw I move out with the squad To his album we ride we so mob I throw lives and lowest to live For my loaf of bread the people's player I did what the culture said And I live by La Costra Nostra said f** around I'll knock your shoulder from your head Get it right I'm a soldier till I'm dead This kid is white with bu*tonholes inside that bled I'm pumping o's with lots of hay I'm so high and really I don't even know why And oh I just go buy a whole house And lay my mat down lay her back down But I never put my mack down You see the thug in me You know Weezy he the young son of Bubba-B Buy my basketball shorts with a thunder B If you want it then come to me I'm right here [Hook x2] [Verse 3] I'm G'd up Only follow the code of the streets Live bad to die good Know how to move when hustling by the days with no food But just so I can eat And ain't it a b**h And if you see me getting fat I'm probably getting rich And you probably can see me for some crack before six And after that it's all bricks A fake and my palm is wrapped around this eight And my arm because the dirty south is straight Vietnam I skate with the bomb I'm asking you don't play with me at all Shots hit your a** and make three of y'all It'll take three of y'all to fill one of my shoeprints Cuz I did and do sh** that's better than new sh** Fit for two clips The kid is a nuisance Awww man, he's inspired by his own gangsta music And the Blueprint Cruising through stoop with the ewe lit Like ooh sh** this is more than weed, it's 500 Degreez [Hook x2]