Tales Of A Hustler (Pt. 2) (Feat. Oschino & Sparks)

[Beanie Sigel] Court casin.. Third felony facin No probation My heart racin like a blunt lacin Hennessy and malt liquor chasin My gemstar scarrin niggaz faces For a pound of trey eight and.. I throw bullets like Dallas Troy Aikman The callous on my index stay achin Niggaz stay hatin Got me late night pacin I'm tight boot lacin Mask on like I'm Jason Shoot up shit like Larry Davis You play the pulpit like Pastor Mason Turn cheek like Martin Luther I'm like Oswald sharp-shootin Got my eyes on my mark in the dark shootin Beam illuminate the target movin Get your organs ruined Move out like SWAT move in Got them niggaz on the back-block rootin For the bad guy.. Playground legend like Sadait P. Kirkland...My MP state workin Shootin-arm stay jerkin My Nextel stay chripin Can't answer cause the feds lurkin Its like we catchin cancer on purpose Back to back chain smoking, nicotine feinin Conversation with demons when I'm dreamin Manic-depressive Like the man upstairs tryin to pass me a lesson But I can't catch it The game under break the pressure They miss my presence [Chorus 2X: Sparks] We still not promised tomorrow Takin the bitter with the sweet up in these cold ass streets We got lifestyles through our scars We ride hard til our numbers get called The lifestyle of a hustler... [Sparks] I'm feelin like deaths in the air Got me back to back buckin my squares But I ain't bitchin I ain't scared I ain't budgin, in fact the thrill alone turns me on Got me smiling, laughin...Clutchin My toast and confrontin mother fuckers Cock-a-roaches will not catch me laughin Skinny and slim fram y'all get it the same Cool niggaz that'll spin out they waves Grimey niggaz that'll spin to they graves Justifyin my foul ways I got kids to raise But motherfuckers rather see me sprayed Than to see me pair (fucker) Or see me on the front page like Sig Or stay rolled DC with B. Sig You bitch niggaz stay PC when y'all see me Until the day that they Fit me in the grave and the city wreak of me We got the city under siege S-P or R-O-C Poverty is a movie starrin me Ride with no play the passenger seat So y'all can see how my life so real So y'all can see how my life so ill (I came to chill..) [Chorus] [Oschino] Tales of a hustler that's me in the flesh Got a Jag and a Caddy sellin dimes of the step Niggaz wanna take my block I had to earn my respect So I put his cerebellum on his grandma's steps You know Oschino he'll probly kill Got the soul of Huey Newton nigga Bobby Seale Nigga prolly take the stand he'll prolly squeal But I got four lawyers I ain't takin the deal (Nigga) We could strap without scrap or put the semi in it Gun fully loaded like the Chrysler with the hemmy in it I keep it ghetto like a 40 with the Henny in it Went to school broke loafers on no pennies in it Stood the coldest winter with the bummiest coat Need food need shoes sold dummies of soap Got tired of bein broke man life was a bitch They bring you flowers when you dead but no soup while you sick So I switched my whole picture get involved with the bricks Not the ones made of semen but the ones who sniffs Tales of hustler, niggaz come for your jugular If you sell one bag to they mother fuckin customers State P we got the city on smash Got every boulevard every street every ave Got sneakers got clothes nigga you do the math Push to hustle but the point is just to stack that cash Tales of a hustler....