Оригинален текст
Feat. animal, trav
I'm a hustler, not by choice (1x)
[az]
i didn't fall from heaven, i rose from hell
bigboy, get bagged, he gon' hold my bail
it's like attica '67 when they, closed the jail
be careful, but promote yo'selves that's what they told me
involved but unconcerned fuck beef when it dissolve it does not return
i don't leave, stagnate nor move off-beat
so discrete very rarely do i move on feet
i rough-ride twin rugers on the sides of my seats
drive-by's, bodies left on both sides of the streets
i blacks out never blind by the size of the image
no disguise, homocide don't rely forensic
homes's finished, scrambling caught in the scrimmage
12 shells ricocheting and it pours from the hemorrhage
get the casket embalm and forget the bastard for moving backwards
new york's number one draft pick