Don't make this complicated My old school candy painted I hustle hard When I come through they like "oh my God - that nigga clean". From the beginning It Was Written I suppose I break a whole on the 36 oz And move it, I'm a hustler, baby I'm a hustler, baby My mind on the money, I ain't tripping on the hoes I blow a whole lot of paper on clothes But dig it, I'm a hustler, baby I'm a hustler, baby. Shoes and the belt buckle Louis We don't need more details now do we? Let 'em sag, my swag is True Religion You gonna need Cartier frames to see my vision It smells like cream mixed with weed, this is classy and hood Drama llama time, nigga, what's good? Domino's, motherfucker, it's time to collect Stack paper like I'm trying to fix the national debt I'm just doing what I wanna do, I trip these set This is 50 on that Muammar Gaddafi shit. Get on my level, bitch, I'm careful who I kick it with We talk market and distribution and politics. I sell the chip of a whole rock, 10 dollars a pop I'm a magnet, the bitch can't help but watch me Socks, drawers, undershirt, Versace, Versace, Versace Designer threads in every form of fashion I express myself so the question I'm askin' Is this flip or the next flip tailor 50 shit?