Lyrics Jim Jones – Love Of The Hustle

(Heatmakerz)
(Crack Music)
For the love of the hustle…
(Niggas love the hustle)

Niggas levelin’ up when they know the level is us
If I buy a watch I’ll bust it or even bezel it up
They know my jeweler got a hell of a touch, uh
Make movies and even my trailers is tough, uh
Saw the boys when they was trollin’ the truck
I got opps, thought they was real, but they was tellin’ on us, uh
Don’t give a fuck, I got that celibate touch
Made a couple mill off weed when they was mailin’ it, uh
Rolls Royce truck with the suicide doors
She was five-ten, without the shoes, five-four
Penthouse eatin’ meals on high floors
My man took a hit, couple mill in a dry war
Eyeball, John Wall, couple killers, they on-call, I
Matter of fact, scratch that
They probably wouldn’t catch that
Probably couldn’t see like where the ruler got his patch at
Bust it all down, where, where the latch at?
All my idols, they was false prophets
Talk about the plug, we ran off on the socket
Shit, to start talkin’ war, we went and bought some rockets
Let me chill here

They stay solo as shit, it ain’t in no way sweet
Death gotta be free, ’cause livin’, it ain’t cheap
For the love of the hustle, do anything just to eat
Brick and a half got you feelin’ like you rich

Shit, millionaire minded, I should kill ’em with kindness
Instead I’m blowin’ smoke as I’m fillin’ my nine clip
Had to tell a ho that I’m still in my prime, bitch
Upstairs rollin’ up, eatin’ dinner at Prime, bitch
I will still choke a bitch out then give her the Heimlich
It’s always gang-gang, I need my niggas to shine because
We’re stuck up in the realest of time
Yeah, I wore a camo band, Richard Mille for the time
Two hundred bucks for a watch, niggas would kill for the time
Every time I speak to my lawyer I’m gettin’ billed for the time, so
Tell ’em make it sweet, every word got a price on it
Should we cop furs in his and hers, and what they write on ’em?
Maybach Benz, it never ends with the light on it
Off-white hoodie that say off-white on it
Grandma plae, I put the beige off-white on it
Drive by blocks that I played all night on it

They stay solo as shit, it ain’t in no way sweet
Death gotta be free, ’cause livin’, it ain’t cheap
For the love of the hustle, do anything just to eat
Brick and a half got you feelin’ like you rich
Ayy, ten toes to the G-code
Even then, stay loyal to your people
For the love of the hustle
Brick to the face like you Deebo
Now you got to gather all them people
Now you duckin’ from the RICO
For the love of the hustle
Ten toes to the G-code
For the love of the hustle