Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Klang


Schnittstelle


Schwierigkeitsgrad


Akzent



Schnittstellensprache

de

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
1
registrieren / anmelden
Lyrkit

spenden

5$

Lyrkit

spenden

10$

Lyrkit

spenden

20$

Lyrkit

Und/oder mich im sozialen Bereich unterstützen. Netzwerke:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Benny The Butcher

Hustler's Wife

 

Hustler's Wife

(Album: Butcher On Steroids - 2017)


This gon' really hurt y'all niggas feelings
Let me turn this shit all the way up
Griselda, Black Soprano

Yo, half a block on the road, I only stop for the toll
Dick riding not in the code (nah...)
I really threw a pot on the stove, they used to cop it and go
Now all our watches is froze
You only fucking gossiping hoes, but if I got her she cold
I never met a chick that I couldn't mold
I'm on Collins getting top in a Rolls, with a Glock that'll blow
Got ten bands on me rocking Vlone
I caught cocaine cases, students turned into gangstas
Lieutenants knew us by our first name basis
I can tell these niggas bullshitting, ain't saving (bullshittin')
We front you a brick, every week you make payments
I stood on the corner just to get me a fit
I get a cut, I get a blunt, then get me a bitch
Now when the work land, we get 60 a clip
Ask [?], I met the nigga trying to get me a brick (haha)
Yeah, you know it's real when you got 30 in the trunk
And a strap, and you know the cash dirty as the gun (woo!)
Imagine this, sad mother burying her son
He was carrying his gun since he was barely 21
Work so hard it'll really break scales (break scales)
Cartels giving niggas NBA deals
Had to sell rocks, the mailbox was full of late bills
I was selling 'caine before Wayne signed Jae Millz, nigga (ahhh)

Locking up the dope with a butter knife
Broke niggas asking what is life
I trapped 100 days, 100 nights
Don't let my daughter be a hustler's wife
I got the Rollie bezel flooded ice
Yeah, broke niggas asking what is life
Uhh, I trapped 100 days, 100 nights
Uhh, don't let my daughter be a hustler's wife, ahhh

Look, I never heard a hustler starving, cut it and toss it
She got niggas, none of 'em bosses
What you know about a quarter brick under the faucet?
Fatigue coats and Timb boots, a bunch of New Yorkers
I got daughters, they remember making visits in prison
Not only me, my baby momma had to live with the sentence
When shit get the realest, sometimes we forget why we in this
Had to learn how to separate business from friendships
(I learnt the hard way)
On the plane to JFK watching the pre-game show
And lovey gon' shoot your wedding up if we say go
I really never heard of a place that we can't go
The family [?] spread the trap phone, pre-paid dough
I'm in the streets with the dope fiends, vests and shooters
I take trap money, rap money, Western Union
Don't never fuck with rappers, they act funny unless it's music
Fucked around and got a deal, the detectives blew it, ahhh

Locking up [?] with a butter knife
Broke niggas asking what is life
I trapped 100 days, 100 nights
Don't let my daughter be a hustler's wife
I got the Rollie bezel flooded ice
Yeah, broke niggas askin what is life
Uhh, I trapped 100 days, 100 nights
Uhh, don't let my daughter be a hustler's wife, ahhh

Erledigt

Hast du alle unbekannten Wörter aus diesem Lied hinzugefügt?