Don't make this complicated

My old school candy painted (For real)

I hustle hard

When I come through they like, oh my God

(That **** clean)

From the beginning it was written, I suppose

I break a whole on the thirty-six oz

And move it, I'm a hustler, baby (Can you dig it?)

I'm a hustler, baby (Say what?)

My mind on the money, I ain't trippin' on the hoes

I blow a whole lot of paper on clothes

But dig it, I'm a hustler, baby (Can you dig it?)

I'm a hustler, baby (Yeah)

I come through, I had the hoes like, "Who he?"

Seats in the old school Louis

Shoes and the belt buckle Louis

We don't need more details now, do we?

Let 'em sag, my swag is True Religion

You gon' need Cartier frames to see my vision

It smells like cream mixed with weed, this is classy and hood

Drama llama time, ****, what's good?

Domino's, motherfucker, it's time to collect

Stack paper like I'm tryna fix the national debt

I'm just doin' what I wanna do, I trip these set

This is 50 on that Muammar Gaddafi shit

From the beginning if was written I suppose

I break a whole on the thirty-six oz

And move it, I'm a hustler, baby (Is this the way it's supposed to feel? Can you dig it?)

I'm a hustler, baby (I mean on top, is this the way it's supposed to feel?)

My mind on the money, I ain't trippin' on the hoes

I blow a whole lot of paper on clothes (Damn)

But dig it, I'm a hustler, baby (Can you dig it?)

I'm a hustler, baby

Get on my level, bitch, I'm careful who I kick it with

We talk market and distribution and politics

Got a chip on my shoulder, chip off the whole block

I sell the chip of a whole rock, ten dollars a pop

I'm a magnet, a bitch can't help but watch me

Socks, drawers, under shirt, Versace, Versace, Versace

Designer threads in every form of fashion

I express myself so the question I'm askin'

Is this flip or the next flip tailor 50 shit?

We ain't promised tomorrow, ****, go on and get the shit

That skull and bones, that Alexander McQueen thing

In case you ain't notice this a Queens thing

From the beginning if was written I suppose

I break a whole on the thirty-six oz

And move it, I'm a hustler, baby (Can you dig it?)

I'm a hustler, baby

My mind on the money, I ain't trippin' on the hoes (I ain't trippin')

I blow a whole lot of paper on clothes

But dig it, I'm a hustler, baby (Can you dig it?)

I'm a hustler, baby

Oh, it's cold out here

It's my kind of weather, I'm cold-blooded

It's 50

When I come through you see me

In the Suburbans that's bulletproof, bomb proof, leather seats, what else?

When I go hard, I go hard

When I don't want you to see me, I switch it up

I'm in that black on black Porsche Panamera

In the back like ooh wee

We rollin'

I hustle, man, it's what I do, man

Wait, **** gon' try to tell me how to do this?