Hang Out And Hustle - Naughty By Nature

The C R U D D Y the C L I C 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 
nigga 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, bitches, 
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 techniques 
over 
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 shit 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 
shit 
is slow in comin' a fiend that's one thing thats when you see twenty 
niggas 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 shit 
must take a seat to the rear. 
Instead of fuckin' 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 niggaz in session we freestyle 
rhyme. 
Reminiscing moving that shit 20's of clips at a time