American Hustle

Be my victim
Man, listen, shit
I did all that shit 'cause I had to, man, not 'cause I wanted to
We all livin' to die, right?
I wasn't raised by IG, man, I was raised by the OGs
Know what I'm sayin'?
Whoever counted us the fuck out, you
Motherfuckers wasn't good at math, you heard?
That's a fact
Listen

I'm more than a hustler's motto and tough bravado
Reloadin', bustin' hollows, when I was stuffin' bottles
I looked up to Pablo, fuck the lotto

I would trust and follow 'cause the motto touchin' mics
Like the Russian Drago rushed Apollo, tough to swallow
Fuckin' models soon as I would touch Milano
Fusilli and crushed tomatoes, zucchini and plus Moscato
Couple bottles, puff habanos, buy a plush Picasso
But what the fuck do I know? You sell high, then you buy low
You Walter White or Gustavo, was forced to fight on them potholes
Tortured sight of a snot-nose, cost your life if the block knows
Mind of a crafty fiend, she tossed the pipe when that cop froze

Yeah, you ignore the price and get shot cold
Slaughter mics with them Pac flows

Broken loner, hustler with the coke aroma, no diploma
Robbed the corner store, almost smoked the owner
Load the chrome up, Motorola holders couldn't blow a soda
Know the stoners, back against the wall, display the coldest shoulders

Sold your soul for little dough, I guess the load too much to hold up
Hard-headed when we touched the stove, the fire didn't scold us
Old close friends taught me to have no trust
Made 14K off the powder, this shit gold dust
Shattered dreams, the nightmare that Uncle Sam sold us
So I chose the road of dope on digi' scales and hold-ups
Stupid niggas dip off on the plug, too much lust for cash
Got shot in the mask 'cause he ran with the duffel bag
Would've got in less trouble if I can get in touch with dad

Ironic how I dead every beat that I touch, I'm bad
Leather jacket with the buckle shit, you motherfuckers
Used to be wavy, but now you stuck on a sunken ship

Drunken fish on the dish
Display murder-type mastery on the disc, can't fuck with this
I'd rather get the funds from the cuddies that's fully functioning
Don't deal with fried fiends, only hundreds if you come for things

Son, son, you're just an underling
When I'm done, my son a king, it's true
Some stand tall and some'll sing
Know who is who, the haters always gonna love you
At your funeral, that's food for the fire that's burnin' beautiful

Permanent residue under my cuticles
The corner was my office, I'm foreign into a cubicle

Nigga

What if I told y'all I was contemplatin' confirmation?
Yeah, and I actually just wanted people to accept me

Could it be that everybody loves me except
Me and I don't even wanna accept me?
But even the best me couldn't impress me, see, I'm hard on myself
But, but, but how could you not see God in yourself?
Too busy buildin' up walls, guardin' yourself

Those scars that you felt thinkin'
Thinkin' maybe your father could help
Shit, my childhood was forced to parents who wasn't forced to parent
Tryna find loopholes in group homes
Now, lil' man, look, you too grown
Lil' nigga, stand on your two own

You was born for this

You asked your brother born for this

Nigga, you was brought in here
To show all these brothers that was brought to tears
Who fought for years, these devils ain't gotta be your source of fear

Yeah, I'm a flawed nigga, but I ain't afraid, though
Let me show you the way, bro