Hang out and hustle lyrics

Artist  : Naughty by nature 
Song : Hang out and hustle
 
The C-R-U-D-D-Y, the C-L-I-C-K
It's texture pure terror a street professor
aggressor scale and measure
clever compressor stretching salary stacks be
running blocks as a
factory
structure capture the raw product I manufacture,
fracture critic chatter
nigga catcher as I blast a cop matter capsule
shatter scatter midnight
disasters clips I rather gather then flip for
what I'm after now and
forever money makes things better at a regular
gets me jewelry, bitches,
bankcards, cars and competitors proposed threats
wreck necks and puff ya
puzzled see trouble muzzles when I hang and
hustle.
Booda Bop, Boom, Bam, Bink, Bick Bow Bookow,
Ratatat, Klack Klick, Klick
Kow, Klick Kow put brains with muscle. Hear a
crew of guys utilize they
skills. Bang out hang out slang out work and
hustle. Flip techniques
over
boogie bangin' beats. A street fleet with Moet,
dank and freaks in
twenty separate suite I'm servin' dope lyrics
holding weight, just like
Chris Webber a warrior from Golden State, and I
conjure up raps I bet
you
don't know any they be hitting like that brick
that smacked Reginald
Denny.
Collects cash n' checks on a jet to meet the next
client as I arrive at
L.A.X.
I'm up early so I catch my phlegm spit step then
stash the stem 10 clips
in ten shit bottles are sectioned in wit a clip
thick a block stocked
wit
protection see X again tools ta fry and unified
like Mexicans but if
shit
is slow in comin' a fiend that's one thing thats
when you see twenty
niggas running to one fiend.
Yo black tops I got that yellow high for hours
buy from me now or next
time I swear I'll sell you flour I got dreams of
getting a 98 or a Caddy
living fatty plus I got a little man calling me
daddy my lady and little
man they need me and I need 'em I gotta see em
and please 'em but first
of
all clothe & feed 'em so we can see freedom even
if I jeopardize my time
and life while I'm in this game I'm making sure
that mine is right from
the beginning to the end its dividend to the end
so I like to hang out
and
hustle wit my friends.
Well it's Friday night and the weekend's here.
All that partying shit
must take a seat to the rear.
Instead of fuckin' wit those phony ghetto chicks
I'd rather be movin' my
clips with my homies on the bricks my fingers
stay hard. My hands stay
full of ash. My fingenails stay dirty that's from
burying my stash.
Fiends are bummin', money's comin' to say the
least, but I'm out there
flippin' clips feeding the belly of the beast.
It's first of the month
money's comin all day all night and too many
going for theirs I'm
cuttin'
sales off with my bike. Now with my niggaz in
session we freestyle
rhyme.
Reminiscing moving that shit 20's of clips at a
time.