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Ice-T - Forced to Do Dirt lyrics
Thanks to jostmatt@bluewin.ch for these lyrics. Ice-T back in that ass Return of the real Muthafuckas fakin and frontin like they don't know what time it is Niggas on the streets ain't really got a muthafuckin choice Muthafucka (So niggas is forced to do dirt) --> Prodigy Born hustler I only run with real niggas who wear gold and jewels Diamond rings, strapped with tools I take no shorts cause I been in it for the long one, the strong one Gotta tell the truth, yo, half my niggas is on the run Street giant defiant to the laws That the white man made, nigga That's why we play, nigga A/k/a the street hustler from the Westside Too damn fly, too much finesse for the hoo ride I rather take a mark off smooth Cause the skilll of a hustler is to stick and move And make you say: "Damn, what's his name? Got to give a nigga props cause the kid got game" Mad game, fool, I base my hustle not on strength But think, you say 'the liqor store', I say 'brinks' Cause my mind's on the massive roll of the dice The magnitude of my game's insane, precise So now you're mad cause I got money and you don't The hustlers win, the busters won't What can I say, you can't come out and play With the real ones, dig this You'll get broke with the quickness I don't gamble, I cheat when it's on Two g's on the table, two in my palm And if I spill up, I pull the nickel .25 strap Then the place gets flat and then I'm out the back With my niggas and them 4's on thangs And if I really wanna floss I flex my Bentley wings Damn, over your head, got a problem Keepin lyrics down to earth so normal niggas can solve em But the game's extreme so quit your high beams And increase the light, now can you see me, you might If you ever been to jail or shot, sold rocks I'm talkin 'bout weight down like movin ki's and pounds But every nigga in the hood ain't fly Light-skinned or dark, they're 90% marks Straight vics and they got money to give Then without em tell, me how the hell a hustler lives.. I got no love for a lame I use my strategy from crack to rap, no shame And now instead of cooking some ki's I'm flippin million dollar ??? call em wack MC's But suckers got it twisted, they missed it Wastin they life when yo, they mentally gifted The streets ain't the only fuckin hustle in town You gotta get in where you fit in, gotta stay way down But a buster is a buster for life He makes excuses why his ass ain't pay That shit's played Cash rules everything around me, kid I hit a 50'000 lick and never did no bid Cause I'm bent on a come-up and my shit stays tight How many fake gangsta rappers will I hear tonight? It don't matter cause the real don't care You know I'ma gonna get mine, so I'ma let em get theirs But I know in the heart what's true So if you listen very closely, maybe you will too My mind's blown off Armani suits Pavet medaillons, [Name] boots Cristal and steak, shrimp big as your hand I bought a silk robe and it's from Siam This jam's for the hoods and thugs Pimps and hoes, the slingers of drugs Hustlers and thieves, cons and crooks Bookers and sharks, muthafuck the marks Nigga |
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