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The Hustle Video (MV)






Smoke DZA - The Hustle Lyrics




[ Featuring Bodega Bamz, LevyGrey ]

I break bank, seals, hundred dollar bills
I been getting to it all day I ain't tryna chill
Roll dank, still, quarter P a kill
Independent hustler, let's make a deal
Pull rank still, you know how I feel
That's super high without chasing a pill
Niggas ain't real, they ain't in the field
If they get jammed they gon' squeal
Nobu like Wendy's if I want a light meal
If I'm on the bill it's a big fight filled
Really they ain't safe, for fronting they ain't paying for nothing
Man if only you could pawn your ice grill
All my niggas get money its protocol
Watch those before us ball
If I f*ck that package up they'd be more appalled
The game got me not feeling shit like Toradol
Gear up take it to all of y'all

Better get this money
Cash out ring me up

The director, a fly lecture
The bullshit side stepper, seen it coming like nah heffer
My gesture, bougie trifectas in Tribeca, yes sir
Time to rep a, Iceberg big, you could spot him like leapord
Effortlessly kill 'em my track record
Blueprint to the cool shit I'm that nigga, etcetera
Cold game, serve like Federer
Wimbledon, winners win, above the head of a simpleton
Pro nigga, I ain't doing beginner things
Name ring, Beijing to Minesing

Better get this money
Cash out, ring me up
Ring me up, ring me up
Gotta get this money
Cash out, ring me up

No help needed but help wanted
Behind closed doors I'm kept dormant
This game sour like a grapefruit
I treat women like liquor I won't chase you
I keep it brief incase you was wondering
This piece, no puzzling, heat seek like summer in Pheonix
I'm sonning 'em, DMC, like Russ and 'em
Pop Cris', no rushing 'em, show guns, no tucking 'em
Damn boy we bad boy's like Puff and 'em
Glass jaws I'm snuffing 'em, gassed artists y'all pumping 'em
14 Karat ropes, no jumping 'em
New cars I jump in 'em, old hoes I'm dumping 'em
Whooo, wanna rump with him, not a soul
Only popping on the 'gram that is not a goal
I need hoes and a whole lotta O's
Whole lotta love bring a whole lotta foes

I tried to take this lighter and burn ya straight to the ground
I tried to take this fire, and burn it straight to the ground
Straight to the ground
Straight to the ground
Straight to the ground
Straight to the ground
Yea, straight through the ground
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




I break bank, seals, hundred dollar bills
I been getting to it all day I ain't tryna chill
Roll dank, still, quarter P a kill
Independent hustler, let's make a deal
Pull rank still, you know how I feel
That's super high without chasing a pill
Niggas ain't real, they ain't in the field
If they get jammed they gon' squeal
Nobu like Wendy's if I want a light meal
If I'm on the bill it's a big fight filled
Really they ain't safe, for fronting they ain't paying for nothing
Man if only you could pawn your ice grill
All my niggas get money its protocol
Watch those before us ball
If I f*ck that package up they'd be more appalled
The game got me not feeling shit like Toradol
Gear up take it to all of y'all

Better get this money
Cash out ring me up

The director, a fly lecture
The bullshit side stepper, seen it coming like nah heffer
My gesture, bougie trifectas in Tribeca, yes sir
Time to rep a, Iceberg big, you could spot him like leapord
Effortlessly kill 'em my track record
Blueprint to the cool shit I'm that nigga, etcetera
Cold game, serve like Federer
Wimbledon, winners win, above the head of a simpleton
Pro nigga, I ain't doing beginner things
Name ring, Beijing to Minesing

Better get this money
Cash out, ring me up
Ring me up, ring me up
Gotta get this money
Cash out, ring me up

No help needed but help wanted
Behind closed doors I'm kept dormant
This game sour like a grapefruit
I treat women like liquor I won't chase you
I keep it brief incase you was wondering
This piece, no puzzling, heat seek like summer in Pheonix
I'm sonning 'em, DMC, like Russ and 'em
Pop Cris', no rushing 'em, show guns, no tucking 'em
Damn boy we bad boy's like Puff and 'em
Glass jaws I'm snuffing 'em, gassed artists y'all pumping 'em
14 Karat ropes, no jumping 'em
New cars I jump in 'em, old hoes I'm dumping 'em
Whooo, wanna rump with him, not a soul
Only popping on the 'gram that is not a goal
I need hoes and a whole lotta O's
Whole lotta love bring a whole lotta foes

I tried to take this lighter and burn ya straight to the ground
I tried to take this fire, and burn it straight to the ground
Straight to the ground
Straight to the ground
Straight to the ground
Straight to the ground
Yea, straight through the ground
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Nathaniel De La Rosa, Angel Savoy Hill, Sean Joseph Pompey
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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