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Lyrics

Lyrics:

#intro
Hustler
We make money, we eat
We make money, we feed
Pay attention, gangsta

(Time the new astrology
Magical things combine history)

#verse
I’m in it for the win, for the long haul
19th century style duals revolvers
Said it once, I’ll say it no more
Those who hear let them hear
Hang the rest from sycamores
I’m a collective of MJ, the Beatles and Elvis
Outgrowing my prime in a half a century
Peep my roots, the pull up when I shoot
And when’s the last time a New Yorker made loops
Boy crews going crazy like headless chickens
Intentional talk, shows money ain’t bout nothing
Peculiar things happen, in the bronx often
I show content with my flow
You can see it in my clothes
The beats sound so under control
Meaning I sell more records and more shows
Doing what never has been seen or done before
Whooping that ass without having to sell my own soul
(watch it boy!)

#outro
(Time the new astrology
Magical things combine history)