"Bonafide Hustler" lyrics - YOUNG BUCK

YOUNG BUCK

"Bonafide Hustler"

(C. Hampton)

[Intro: 50 Cent]
Yeah, I'm a special kind of nigga with mines, y'know?
I grind, I gets my paper, y'knahmean?
Ha ha ha, oh yeah

[Verse 1: 50 Cent]
They say heaven's for churchgoers and hell's for the heathens
So I'ma just ball the fuck out while I'm breathin'
Eighth after eighth, what'chu know about that fast flip?
Crack spots, smoky fiends sucking on that glass dick
Now Sham stay askin' for a dime for 9
I'll tell you what, I'll hook you up just one last time
Customs is comin', son is pumpin', watch the packs dissolve
Singles, C-notes to food stamps, we stackin' it all
That's that joint; what's his name, son? I don't remember
That Haitian nigga with the guitar that sing "Gone 'Til November"
I do a buck-forty in the rain, hydroplanin'
Lamborghini Diablo, candy-painted
Got that hydro burnin', got the burner in the stash
Hit the hazards, hit the AC, then it come out the dash
If I go in the club son and niggas start dumbing
Start shooting and I ain't strapped, fuck it I'm running

[Chorus: 50 Cent]
I'm a bonafide hustler
Nigga, get out of line, I'll gut ya
Me, I'm 'bout my paper, it's "Fuck ya"
If you play games with mine
I come at you from behind with my nine
I'm a bonafide hustler
Nigga, get out of line, I'll gut ya
Me, I'm 'bout my paper, it's "Fuck ya"
If you play games with mine
I come at you from behind with my nine
I'm a bonafide hustler

[Verse 2: Young Buck]
I been out here for too long, I deserve to get a bird
The fiends know my name now from standin' on this curb
I got blood on my shirt and a handful of crack
A bunch of lil' niggas with dime sacks in they backpacks
Come and get it, we got it, take a trip to the projects
You see the police, but we gon' sell our dope regardless
You niggas know me, from fillin' up your heroin needles
I'm connected with them people who don't speak no English
We ain't scared of the roll, we just get it and go
You see them Tennessee tags, nigga, you already know
I don't trust no ho, that's how T got popped
He showed a bitch where his stash was, she told it to the cops
Me and Priest had the streets on lock
He'd break down the blocks, I'd open up shop around the clock
And I ain't gon' stop, so soon as you come home from the pen
We at it again, we gettin' 'em for ten, my nigga

[Verse 3: Tony Yayo]
You know I'm a hustler, ayy
Now I'm headed down south and that's my word
I'm on the Greyhound, 'bout to move these birds
And if these niggas don't let me sling
[Click clack] I'm out there robbin' everything
Got a brand new MAC and a P-89
Ya's a hustler, man, I stay on the grind
Nine grams of heroin, one hunnid grams of coke
Twelve O's of mushrooms, two pounds of smoke
Three gal's of dust juice and a tank of LSD
And a thousand pills of every kind of ecstasy
Hash, hashish, I bought a sixty-two
When I was younger with my crew, I had them niggas sniffin' glue
It's forties for the gram to them truckers in Bamas
And I can chef up a miracle with Arm & Hammer
I'm a hustler, man, I supply the fiends
I'm a hustler, nigga, I'll sell you a dream