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1-900-Hustler (feat. Memphis Bleek & Freeway)

1-900-Hustler, Sigel, holla at your boy

What's the problem shorty?Yeah whattup man

I'm the only nigga from Brooklyn out here man

I'm tryin to lock the spot down, holla at meAlright; hold on - Hova, line oneHere's a couple of suggestions of how you could finesse it

You find a dude in town, you send him a short message

Say, "Hey, I'm new in town, I don't know my way around

but I got some soft white that's sure to come back brown

I get that butter all night

cause most niggaz don't know a brick from a bike

They keep buyin hard white

And if you free tomorrow night we can meet and discuss price

FYI, I never been robbed in my life"

Or -- you find a chick, shit, you hole up in her crib and

let her introduce you 'round town like her man

Shake hands, make friends like it's all innocent

then -- before they look up you sellin the town cook-up

Or -- gorilla pimp, come up on that killer shit

Take a nigga brick, smack him, then you sell it back to them

Still there Brooklyn?

Yeah yeah that's gangsta, I think I'ma roll with that oneMake out a check for eight hundred dollars

Jigga Man, holla {*click*, *dial tone*}1-900-Hustler, Sigel, holla at your boy

Whassup Sig? This Chris out the Young Guns dog

Whattup?

I'm ready to smash these niggaz in the rap game

The niggaz takin too long with that advance money and shit

Yeah

Talkin 'bout chill, chill don't pay the bills

Yeah I feel that

I know you well connected dog

Let me holla at somebody real

Aight look, I got the perfect person for you, hold on

Bleek, line two

Listen shorty, you wanna roll just give me the word

I ain't got time for a sentence all that shit is absurd

You find a strip first, if you don't cook find a bitch first

If you don't hustle find a nigga who pitch first

You new in town, no red and blue in town, there's gangs

Don't get fresh, let 'em know you small change

The strong move quiet, the weak start riots

We know you got a brick but sell 'em twenties til they tired

With no credit, you know you sick with that gotta eat fetish

and other niggaz who gettin it - DEAD IT

Make 'em an offer that they can't refuse

He resists, box him in, til he can't be moved

Here's the rules: chop it, bag it, stash it, stack it

Get in, get out - that's a O.G.'s classic

900-Hustler, you pass it around

Wanna speak to me direct, hit extension trey-pound, I'm out

{*click*, *dial tone*}1-900-Hustler, Sigel, holla at your dog

What seem to be the problem young boy?

Yo whattup, this Murder Def Kill Homicide Nigga

(??) I got two freaks

Yo watch your fuckin mouth man

Fuck you mean watch my mouth nigga?

Been on hold for about two hours nigga

I don't give a fuck how long you been on the line;

shut the fuck up! Matter of fact, hold on

{*click*, *classical type music plays*}

I know this nigga ain't just put. put me on hold man

This bullshit-ass elevator music

Free, pick up line fiveFirst things first, watch what you say out your mouth

when you talkin on the phone to hus-tlers

Never play the house, think drought, keep heat in the couch

when you sittin in the presence of cus-tomers

Never hold out, pull out, throw heat and be out

if a nigga ever think that he touchin-ya

Lay low, get cake, whip all over the state

Stash dough, whip yay with, right amount of bake (hoe!)

Nigga too close went right around his place (yo!)

You stoppin dough when we clutchin the gats?

I know you heard "Friend or Foe," this ain't different from that

Make sure you got your four-four and he can slip if he like

Young, Jon Benet daughter missin tonight and yo

until you up stay away from them dykes and whores

Three smuts, two straights and a dyke

can pause one-three rumbles two streaks and a pipe for sure

And if it's tight, then he might come back for more

Nine and four, everyday back and forth

Winter to summer, 1-900-Hustler

Pass the number til you're stackin balls

Tell you how to weigh shit wet and package more

I take cash or write the check out to F-R

two E's, that'll be two G's

And forget my money I'm comin for all your ki's, nigga

{*click*, *dial tone*}1-900-Hustler, Sigel, holla at your boy dog

Yo whattup young, you put me on hold earlier man what happened

Yeah you stupid motherfucker {MDKHN: Watch your mouth man}

you talkin all reckless on the phone

Fuck you think this the,

Get-Indicted-Hotline or somethin motherfucker?

Yo, my bad man, my bad

I know I was talkin reckless earlier about them two chickens

You get it, you know, two chickens? But listen

What?

Just tell me how to move this shit man

I'm pushin hardly half a wing back nigga, holla

Get a job, holla at Perdue!

{*click*, *dial tone*}

Enjoy the lyrics !!!