We The Hustlers lyrics

[Intro]
(StupidDog, I ain't gon' lie, this b*tch hard)

[Verse 1: Driveway Baby]
You wanna hit the road? Gotta have your license straight
If we ain't got a rental, gotta have your title straight
'Cause I can't get flicked if we ain't got no license plate
This Perc' bitin' hard as f*ck, I got the Tyson face
YSR the label, we ain't have no signing day
Couldn't f*ck this b*tch tonight, she had her cycle day
Bring out the long K, it's a rifle day
I can stab a b*tch guts up like I'm at Michael place

[Verse 2: YSR Loski]
I ain't have a lot of money, I had to make a way
In a room shootin' with the scammers, playin' Beat the Bank
Why the hell you actin' like a shooter when you know you ain't?
I be sh*ttin' on these n*ggas when I'm in the paint
Jay gon' damn near crash a Jag' when he off drank
I throw on Off-White on an off-day
Bruce down to take us, puttin' switches on all K's
Seventh grade, I was in the school catchin' plays in the hallway

[Verse 3: YSR Bruce]
I just did thirty-three hours in a rental
Made 60K in all giffies accidental
Percocet bitin', EDD, Purple denim
Chrome Heart drip, ayy
Ayy, Chrome Heart drip, a thousand dollars for the shirt
n*gga speakin' on Lil Sav, he in the dirt
I just bought an AR with a switch, this b*tch work
A hundred-some shots, a thirty-six, he in the dirt
[Verse 4: NDGM Rambo]
I'm a problem, these pus*y n*ggas can't stop me
Hit a n*gga dead in his sh*t and get it poppin'
Drac' with the switch, that'll solve all the problems
Hit a n*gga block with this b*tch, the way I blow it, need a sponsor
Wipe a n*gga nose with this b*tch like he a toddler
pus*y-ass n*gga, yeah, you just like your father
Hit a n*gga with this b*tch, give you a taper like your barber
Whole clip full of bald-heads, n*gga, Vince Carter

[Verse 5: YSR Gramz]
We the hustlers, we ain't no motherf*ckin' robbers
YSR sh*t, we is not Jon Connor
If my n*gga wanna catch a play, I'ma lob him
If a n*gga say he want some problems, n*gga, we gon' solve it
You see them two chains on my neck, yeah, I bought 'em
He was stealin' out my bag 'til I caught him
n*gga ranned up on me, so I jogged him
I'll put them boys on your f*ckin' head, don't make me call 'em

[Verse 6: KrispyLife Kidd]
The b*tch wanna— alright, huh, alright, haha
Yeah, b*tch, b*tch, alright
KrispyLife, n*gga
My n*ggas got rich off the rap 'cause I taught 'em
The b*tch wanna suck my di*k, go, Autumn
This ain't rose gold no more, this autumn
My b*tch hittin' them stores real good 'cause I taught her
I wouldn't take a b*tch nowhere, even Bikini Bottom
Just met this b*tch five minutes ago and I done seen her topless
Like you in a biker gang, we'll surround your crew with choppers
I'm a really a mob boss, b*tch, yeah, I'm Frank Sinatra
That's blood, that's gang, yeah, we on some ganger sh*t
I ain't gon' fight my ho today, I'ma just Mace the b*tch
I pay my lawyer good money, now case dismissed
I pay my lawyer— case dismissed