(intro) [spm] Yo, yo, I wanna welcome, welcome everyone to hustletown Are we recording? Alright let’s do this fellas.
Chorus: [dope house artists]
For years I’ve been working on the block of rock, For years I’ve been keeping nina glock on cock. (4x)
For years homeboy, for years....
[baby beesh] Now if you wanna battle me then it’s on, I’m blowed while I’m creeping up whip out my tek so now you gone. You shouldn’t have tried that set up now you ass is getting wet up, Cuz real g’s from the southeast will leave you haters trying to get up You’ll definitely get dealt with if your bitch ass has a death wish, And on your grave I tag It’s the motherfucking rick that you don’t mess with So let me keep stressing that lesson To all y’all players and y’all haters Haters keep watching y’all back And y’all players keep creeping and stacking that paper
[baby bash] (now) now why do these haters wanna plex Why do they wanna be starting mess Get the fuck out my face is what I suggest Cause I really don’t think that you wanna test this mex Coming straight out the south east side of that tex, So if there’s something you gotta get off your chest, It’s best that you don’t express it. It’s hard enough for a messican, So I really don’t need all that plexing, There’s all kinds of player haters out there So please wait let me tell you about those. First you got them fraud ass hoes, Then you got them fraud popo’s, Then you got them fraud ass niggas in the street Who just wanna plex and take yours
(chorus 4x)
[low-g] Guess who’s back from the pen, Out to win, sipping gin with my kin folk, Gots the grin on my face when I come through If you ain’t down with these g’s motherfuck you Cause there’s a straight up struggle in my barrio, Second ward getting high on the patio, And when I’m wet I’m a threat to a rival set, I get respect when I step with my new tek, Don’t sweat I check hoes daily, On the regular talking to your lady, On the cellular creeping on the lowride, In the middle of the night with no lights, In the four-five, chilling at the dope house Low-g is something you don’t know about Little tricks on my dick twenty-four seven, Treat them like a bitch, and still got them hoes begging. Keep it real for my people, I fear no evil Staying high till I die flying like a eagle
(chorus x4)
[spm] You’re superficial talking about life with a pistol But youse a hoe living life clean as a whistle My missles, oh they do leave body dimples, Attack your whole staff like a pack full of pitbulls. You simple, I’m complex, And coming on next, oh take a wild guess, The south park mex, Spark sess blow smoke in the darkness, You don’t wanna start mess with the heartless, I be the smartest, hottest, artist. My gm shine brighter than the golden arches, Shooting star yes, ol trick no blow indo Before they kick door, then flip coke, Tip-toe to the top, Tellin thug tales of wicked love spells, Hoes and drug sales, some fell, In fact it’s most, So a toast to my niggas who died in the smoke.
(chorus 8x)
(outro) [spm] H-town, hustletown, did this for y’all, my boy low-g.
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Copy to Clipboard: (intro) [spm] Yo, yo, I wanna welcome, welcome everyone to hustletown Are we recording? Alright let’s do this fellas.
Chorus: [dope house artists]
For years I’ve been working on the block of rock, For years I’ve been keeping nina glock on cock. (4x)
For years homeboy, for years....
[baby beesh] Now if you wanna battle me then it’s on, I’m blowed while I’m creeping up whip out my tek so now you gone. You shouldn’t have tried that set up now you ass is getting wet up, Cuz real g’s from the southeast will leave you haters trying to get up You’ll definitely get dealt with if your bitch ass has a death wish, And on your grave I tag It’s the motherfucking rick that you don’t mess with So let me keep stressing that lesson To all y’all players and y’all haters Haters keep watching y’all back And y’all players keep creeping and stacking that paper
[baby bash] (now) now why do these haters wanna plex Why do they wanna be starting mess Get the fuck out my face is what I suggest Cause I really don’t think that you wanna test this mex Coming straight out the south east side of that tex, So if there’s something you gotta get off your chest, It’s best that you don’t express it. It’s hard enough for a messican, So I really don’t need all that plexing, There’s all kinds of player haters out there So please wait let me tell you about those. First you got them fraud ass hoes, Then you got them fraud popo’s, Then you got them fraud ass niggas in the street Who just wanna plex and take yours
(chorus 4x)
[low-g] Guess who’s back from the pen, Out to win, sipping gin with my kin folk, Gots the grin on my face when I come through If you ain’t down with these g’s motherfuck you Cause there’s a straight up struggle in my barrio, Second ward getting high on the patio, And when I’m wet I’m a threat to a rival set, I get respect when I step with my new tek, Don’t sweat I check hoes daily, On the regular talking to your lady, On the cellular creeping on the lowride, In the middle of the night with no lights, In the four-five, chilling at the dope house Low-g is something you don’t know about Little tricks on my dick twenty-four seven, Treat them like a bitch, and still got them hoes begging. Keep it real for my people, I fear no evil Staying high till I die flying like a eagle
(chorus x4)
[spm] You’re superficial talking about life with a pistol But youse a hoe living life clean as a whistle My missles, oh they do leave body dimples, Attack your whole staff like a pack full of pitbulls. You simple, I’m complex, And coming on next, oh take a wild guess, The south park mex, Spark sess blow smoke in the darkness, You don’t wanna start mess with the heartless, I be the smartest, hottest, artist. My gm shine brighter than the golden arches, Shooting star yes, ol trick no blow indo Before they kick door, then flip coke, Tip-toe to the top, Tellin thug tales of wicked love spells, Hoes and drug sales, some fell, In fact it’s most, So a toast to my niggas who died in the smoke.
(chorus 8x)
(outro) [spm] H-town, hustletown, did this for y’all, my boy low-g.
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