Naughty by Nature Hang Out and Hustle Lyrics

Poverty’s Paradise Track Listing
CD 1
  • 1 Intro Skit
  • 2 Poverty’s Paradise
  • 3 Clap Yo Hands
  • 4 City of Ci‐Lo
  • 5 Hang Out and Hustle
  • 6 It’s Workin’
  • 7 Holdin’ Fort
  • 8 Chain Remains
  • 9 Feel Me Flow
  • 10 Craziest
  • 11 Radio Skit
  • 12 Sunshine
  • 13 Webber (skit)
  • 14 Respect Due
  • 15 World Go Round
  • 16 Klickow‐Klickow
  • 17 Double I (skit)
  • 18 Slang Bang
  • 19 Shout Out
  • 20 Outro
  • 21 Connections
  • The see-are-you-D-D-why, the see-L-I-see-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
    ***** 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, *****es,
    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 techniquesover 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 **** 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 ****
    Is slow in comin' a fiend that's one thing that's when you see twenty *****s 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 **** must take a seat to the rear.
    Instead of ****in' 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 *****z in session we freestyle rhyme.
    Reminiscing moving that **** 20's of clips at a time.

    Written by: Keir Lamont Gist, Anthony Shawn Criss, Vincent "vinnie" Brown, James Brown, Charles E. Sherrell, Kevin Harold Mckenzie, Shawn Mckenzie, P. Mitchell
    Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

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