[Chorus 2X's]
Now come follow me
Down yellow brick road
To easier to see
Hillwood Hustla
Got what you need
[Verse 1]
It were plain to see
Since the age of three
One day dope fiends'll be pagin me
I got crunk in the game n***** knew my name
Hillwood the place I gain my fame
16 in a 7-7 Seville
Smoke grey gold trim big daddy grill
Back in '86 I was choppin bricks
To think a d*** papermate got me rich
I got love for the hustlas in every hood
But hate in your heart it'll never be good
I feel blessed but confess
I blow sess for my stress
Its that Mex with a S on my chest
None the less I was real with the homies
With the O-Z's running from the police
No peace blow sweets on cold streets
Dope fiends gon bring a n**** more green [echoes]
[Chorus 2X's]
[Verse 2]
My money triple sippin ripple living simple
Rolling paper squares out a fat a** nickle
Trick on my d*** for the bricks I chop
Pigs in my mix when they hit my block
Used to catch a raid bout every six months
Just a check up to see if id slip once
Call it one time some rhyme bout this s***
I can slide in my sandals but never will I slip
Undercovers hit the set man yall funny
Taking them crumbs and giving marked money
Trying to convict em I aint fallin victim
Fool I know your face and my boys I done hipped em
They want me bad so mad as they burn off
f****** with them hoes now my blunt done turned off
No other way just another day on the spot
If you play then you pay it dont never stop [echoes]
[Chorus 2X's]
[Verse 3]
I wrote this book bout a hopeless crook
Living in the land where the c**e is cooked
Where hoes get took and the choke is good
Where smokers hooked and the soldiers hood
That lonely Wood where his homies stood
Trying to change myself if I only could
Im just your Hillwood Hustla street rhyme rustler
Blowing more smoke than a broke down m***ler
But I'm taking losses
It aint easy working jobs with no f****** bosses
Selling dope is the hardest thing a man can do
Risking life and your freedom for a buck or two
Still I feel if you loose control homie youse a ho
Real g's keep they life on cruise control
When the police kick door and raid my crib
I tell em pigs of the slippers thats not what I did [echoes]
[Chorus 2X's]
Now come follow me
Down yellow brick road
To easier to see
Hillwood Hustla
Got what you need
[Verse 1]
It were plain to see
Since the age of three
One day dope fiends'll be pagin me
I got crunk in the game n***** knew my name
Hillwood the place I gain my fame
16 in a 7-7 Seville
Smoke grey gold trim big daddy grill
Back in '86 I was choppin bricks
To think a d*** papermate got me rich
I got love for the hustlas in every hood
But hate in your heart it'll never be good
I feel blessed but confess
I blow sess for my stress
Its that Mex with a S on my chest
None the less I was real with the homies
With the O-Z's running from the police
No peace blow sweets on cold streets
Dope fiends gon bring a n**** more green [echoes]
[Chorus 2X's]
[Verse 2]
My money triple sippin ripple living simple
Rolling paper squares out a fat a** nickle
Trick on my d*** for the bricks I chop
Pigs in my mix when they hit my block
Used to catch a raid bout every six months
Just a check up to see if id slip once
Call it one time some rhyme bout this s***
I can slide in my sandals but never will I slip
Undercovers hit the set man yall funny
Taking them crumbs and giving marked money
Trying to convict em I aint fallin victim
Fool I know your face and my boys I done hipped em
They want me bad so mad as they burn off
f****** with them hoes now my blunt done turned off
No other way just another day on the spot
If you play then you pay it dont never stop [echoes]
[Chorus 2X's]
[Verse 3]
I wrote this book bout a hopeless crook
Living in the land where the c**e is cooked
Where hoes get took and the choke is good
Where smokers hooked and the soldiers hood
That lonely Wood where his homies stood
Trying to change myself if I only could
Im just your Hillwood Hustla street rhyme rustler
Blowing more smoke than a broke down m***ler
But I'm taking losses
It aint easy working jobs with no f****** bosses
Selling dope is the hardest thing a man can do
Risking life and your freedom for a buck or two
Still I feel if you loose control homie youse a ho
Real g's keep they life on cruise control
When the police kick door and raid my crib
I tell em pigs of the slippers thats not what I did [echoes]
[Chorus 2X's]