(Mr. Fritz Verse 1) They say the best lessons? Stay on ya green like French dressing/ Don't move weight if you hurt ya arms bench pressing/ Police be pleading for reasons to gets to squeezing at us/ And wonder why we don't speak to em when they need to capture/ They suspects, got much stress, I'm leaning/ On liquor and marijuana just trying to dodge my demons/ Wish i could do it legally, it's truly a thought/ Might be a corpse before I'm hearing opportunity knock/ I been a savage since a youth/ Done lost a lotta homies to them cannons for the loot/ Now lots of eyes are on me cause I'm handing them the truth/ This hustle a cold game/ In pursuit of gold chains and things, we slang and bang/ Not too religious, but if the Lord forgiving me, thanks/ And karma's a b**h, my memory banks/ Is full of nightmares and sins/ For Nike airs and gin/ Rep of a boss, i take it as acceptable loss/ I got lavish habits, ambitions to smash the baddest rabbits/ But pretty b**hes isn't hearing that minimum wage/ So I'm a handle my business, get my hands on them riches/ And scramble any mother f**er that gets in my way/ This everyday a n***a rolling the dice on my freedom/ But for that greening, it's a risk I'm a take/ I keep my eyes on the prize until i rise to the skies/ A rough rider, I'm a ride till i die it's for the love of the hustle/ (Chorus) It's for the love of the hustle It's for the love of the... It's for the love of the hustle (Chilla Jones verse 2) I was told growing up I had the wrong idols/ The way they towered on the block was beyond Eiffel/ Way back when Stone Cold was Stunning Shawn Michaels/ With nothing but tall tees up in the wash cycle/ The law stifled the block (ugh)/ I saw fights between the dealers moving hard white for the gwap/ I used to watch the cop squad car lights from the top...floor/ And see the struggle firsthand it was hard...core/ Working this 9-5 cause I need money/ Knowing this paycheck ain't equal to the street money/ So if you ever heard a n***a getting weed from me/ It's just to give my daughter everything she needs from me/ Dedicated father...dropped out of 9th grade/ But I'm educated, though I never made it farther/ Man make the money, money never made the man/ But I'm getting money everyday anyway I can/ It's the hustle (Chorus) (Verse 3) (Mr. Fritz) It is what it is, this soundtrack of life when i cue the score/ With a hunger i can't contain with this music, boy/ It's either this, get a jumper, start moving raw/ Or put a mask on for ya ring, like a luchador/ (Chilla Jones) f** you think we hooping for? Losing ain't sensible/ Hustle is what they pretend to do and I could sense the bull/ Think you invincible? My n***as catch you by your bae's side/ And make your bell ding off principal/ (Mr. Fritz) I'm a paint the visual, fly individual/ Used to salt fries now i grind with my n***as who/ Been there since day one, of I'm eating share the dinner plate/ With n***as had em f**ing with the rock before triple h/ (Chilla Jones) From the bottom to the top...sell it to the addicts/ Hustler, moving d** from the cellar to the attic/ Wanna see it rain money no umbrella no jacket/ Till I'm dead up in a casket...it's for the love of the hustle (Chorus)