Hustling All I Can Do - Z-Ro, Z-Ro featuring Point Blank & Mr. 3-2

May life be a trip I never knew, things could ever get bad

As I got no love my 17 shot Glock, with extra clips

That’s it, I’m going all out and if I die then remember me

Cause in these last days, I’m feeling like I’ma hit the Penitentiary

For real, trying to deal with this every day struggle

You got to get up, up off your rump baby and hustle

I tussle, work my muscle and boss hog

Take what’s mine, and still screaming fuck y’all

If I can’t ball, they better lock me up

Shackled down hand cuffed, on sight I’ma bust

What’s up where your nuts, I get rushed to the head

Thug for life, motherfucker till I’m dead

Mr. 3−2, boss of all bosses

And I ain’t, tolerating no losses

And no excuses, cause this world is so shife

Street Game forever, and it’s like that for life nigga

Will I ever, see the stage again

Radio D.J.s, gon respect my rhythm

Feeling like I’m finna, hit the Penn again

What will I do, for food

Living in the ghetto, turning boys to men

Crooked cops and killers, interrupt my mission

Tell me will I ever, pimp my pen again

Hustling, is all I can do

I was born on a fucked up day, had to be holidays

With nothing but frowns on my face, the sadness brought madness

To a family that was built, unconsciencely I love em

But some consciencely, running these streets living constantly

It’s costing me, way too much

But the slums got me, jacking niggas work something

Seclude, before I hurt something

Inhale exhale, ok

I promise things gon get better, just give me one more day

So I can work my jelly spread, to love around

So I can tote my shit and hurt my belly, but trying to stay down

Stay focused on what I’m trying to accomplish, and not be accomplice

Stay real stay true pay dues, and don’t become a victim of some mob shit

I never let this misery, push me to do something that I regret

But just notice you in danger, I want you to feel my anger

And if I ever feel like I’m danger, I’ma empty the chamber oooh

These motherfuckers want me dead, at least that’s how it seems to be

An army of motherfuckers, against me Dean and E

Who you gone call, when my commratery come down like rain

Nothing but revenge to keep me sane, it ain’t nothing like pain

Cause when I squeeze it then you bleed, satisfaction is guaranteed

Black hearted ever since the first murder, off precious is my breed

Enemies fuck all my foes, fuck all my friends

Unless I’m in the Penn, I’ve got nobody to call my kin

Cause all the real niggas, are dead or in jail

But I’ve been left to struggle for success, trying to get a check from

Southwest Wholesale

Look at all the 16's that I’ve wrecked, and I’m practically poor

On top of that I’m homeless, my niggas don’t want me no more

Fuck pretending get in, these motherfuckers act like they don’t know my face

Better remember I’m quick to click and hit, don’t act like you don’t know my

pace

Well fuck rapping, I need some right now money it’s getting crucial

If I pimp my pen, I gotta wait 3 months for trading scraps for lunch money

Monday night, the sirens seemed so loud

I hope, that I can lose this crowd

Lately, it go down that way

That’s why a nigga, quick to get the K and spray

We could of been, so throwed together

But because I was short, it’s on my cheddar

I haaaad to get up and bleed the block, and it don’t stop