[Intro: Twisted Black]
Uh-huh

[Verse 1: Twisted Black]
I got four or five hustlers that I feed on my team
That I feed on my team, that I feed on my team
And never leave the crib without a pistol in lean
Without a pistol in lean, pistol in lean
I bet I hustle harder than you do in your dreams
Than you do in your dreams, n***a, do in your dreams
I'm a killer but right now, I'm murderin' ink
I'm murderin' ink, I'm murderin' ink
Now you can catch me on the brake of a 'Vette or a Beemer
With a fine ghetto bitch that look better than Trina
She a booster, sell pussy if I threaten to leave her
And I keep her cookied up like the bitch was a keeper
Either love or hate me, either way, your boy cool with it
Better ask somebody though 'cause I'm a fool with it
(Oh, you's a snitch, n***a?) Not me
(Oh, you say you boys got that work?) Well, let me cop three
That's how we livin', n***a

[Chorus: Twisted Black & Yo Gotti]
If you a hustlin' ass n***a, throw it up
If you a gangsta ass n***a, throw it up
If you're both of these n***as, and you will squeeze triggers (Yeah, yeah)
And you don't ball n***as, throw it up (Knahmtalkin' 'bout?)
If you a hustlin' ass n***a, throw it up (I'm from the nawf, dog)
If you a gangsta ass n***a, throw it up (Ayy, this your boy, Gotti)
If you're both of these n***as, and you will squeeze triggers (You knahmtalkin' 'bout?)
And you don't ball n***as, throw it up
[Verse 2: Yo Gotti]
Look, I'm a hustler, and I hustle hard
I'm talkin' seven figure home, four car garage, I'm stuntin' hard
My chain worth that Mastera'
If you ain't know, that's a hunnid thousand dollar car
Look this your boy, Yo Gotti, man, my grind tight
I seen my first thirty-six O's and got my mind right
Bakin' soda, boilin' water, fish scalin' too
One to the right, two to the left, I bet my shit won't lose, and I ain't lyin'
My ounces jumpin' thirty-five
I keep that ether potent, jumpin' like the Soul Train line
We rob for rock and on the block servin' one at a time
We Glock for Glock and straight up pop until somebody die, I throw it up
I represent that nitty north
Where we shoot dice and we serve work straight off the same porch, but I'm in Dallas
And I'm fuckin' 'round with Twisted Black
I know his situation, plus I can relate to that, fuck them conspiracies

[Chorus: Twisted Black]
If you a hustlin' ass n***a, throw it up
If you a gangsta ass n***a, throw it up
If you're both of these n***as, and you will squeeze triggers
And you don't ball n***as, throw it up
If you a hustlin' ass n***a, throw it up
If you a gangsta ass n***a, throw it up
If you're both of these n***as, and you will squeeze triggers
And you don't ball n***as, throw it up
[Verse 3: Chyna Whyte]
I gotta get this money, they ain't gon' give you nothin'
Them two-sixes on the whip, yeah I did that hustlin'
No homie, they know the white ain't touchin'
No lips on them nuts, but I lick up the blunts, yeah
I hustle hard, got a bag of them ones
So much sick from the smell, gotta eat up them Tums, look
I grind like RK, you know my pedigree
I talk that money greedy yes, them boys like butterbeans
Like Papi, what it do? You know mami 'bout her B.I
Take P ad-lib and shit on these hoes
I've been on these roads, look, I got a hand on the stove
I'm Santa Claus in them streets and my dro's full of heat
And it's not from that Snapple, boy, that Moss'll put you deep
Bust it all out the Magnum, break you virgin, make you bleed, haha
You know the name, you see 'em throwin' up that "C"
It's Whyte House, fade to black, n***a, welcome to the trap

[Chorus: Twisted Black]
If you a hustlin' ass n***a, throw it up
If you a gangsta ass n***a, throw it up
If you're both of these n***as, and you will squeeze triggers
And you don't ball n***as, throw it up
If you a hustlin' ass n***a, throw it up
If you a gangsta ass n***a, throw it up
If you're both of these n***as, and you will squeeze triggers
And you don't ball n***as, throw it up