This Goes Out Lyrics

This goes out to all them hustlers
Everybody out there making them ends meet
I ain't mad at'cha
J E y'all, this goes out to everybodyThis goes out to you, this goes out to you
This goes out to you, this goes out to you
This goes out to you, this goes out to you
This goes out to you, this goes out to youSome people sleep five to a bed
Three at the feet, two at the top
So I can't really talk about how they should live
When I know in my heart if it came down to it
I'd be getting down the same as them
See Lord, tryna hustle must be something
That was Heaven sent
A lot of rent wouldn't be paid without this trade
That we call hustlin'This goes out to the cats on the corner
Stressin' and strugglin' just to get a dollar
I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something
Hold your head up 'cause they can't touch you

This goes out to the girls in the streets
Like going all out just so their kids can eat
Like I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something
Hold your head up 'cause they can't touch you
This goes outI used to be half between
Going all out and doings things that I know just wasn't right
And now I'm looking back
And I think just do it or never did something
But I can tell you then
Rather take a bullet in my head than leave my family unfed
And that's the way it is
This goes out to my homies, yeahThis goes out to the cats on the corner
Stressin' and strugglin' just to get a dollar
I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something
Hold your head up 'cause they can't touch you
This goes out to the girls in the streets
Like going all out just so their kids can eat
Like I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something
Hold your head up 'cause they can't touch you
This goes outAy yo I welcome the struggle
Like I welcome the hustle
Find the right one, take it and bubble
That's on the muscle
I ain't giving in, I'm trying to win
And if I gotta get my hands a little dirty
Then I'm sorry for sin
But the Fed don't understand ain't no bread
So brothers have ta learn to bake to make bread
Chicks use their ass and shake to make bread
But I,aint mad at ya shorty keep them kids fedThis goes out to my whole five eight one click
I often reminisce when we just dreamed of this
Rich cars, fine homes, girls with nice toes
Dime pieces standing in line to show us their thongs
Went from riding six deep in a little ass jeep
The Cadillac trucks and Benzes, prowling the streets
We gon' ball till we fall
'Cause we fadin' em all
Put your glasses in the air, this goes out to y'allThis goes out to the cats on the corner
Stressin' and strugglin' just to get a dollar
I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something
Hold your head up 'cause they can't touch ya
This goes out to the girls in the streets
Like going all out just so their kids can eat
Like I ain't mad at'cha, gotta do something
Hold your head up 'cause they can't touch ya
This goes outMy homies, you can't touch me
If you don't really know me
This goes out to my homies
You can't touch me
If you don't really know me
This goes out to my homies
You can't touch me
If you don't really know me
This goes out to my homies
You can't touch me
If you don't really know me