Ice-T back in that ass
Return of the real
Muthafuckas fakin and frontin like they don't know what time it is
Niggas on the streets ain't really got a muthafuckin choice
Muthafucka

(So niggas is forced to do dirt)	--> Prodigy

Born hustler

I only run with real niggas who wear gold and jewels
Diamond rings, strapped with tools
I take no shorts cause I been in it for the long one, the strong one
Gotta tell the truth, yo, half my niggas is on the run
Street giant defiant to the laws
That the white man made, nigga
That's why we play, nigga
A/k/a the street hustler from the Westside
Too damn fly, too much finesse for the hoo ride
I rather take a mark off smooth
Cause the skilll of a hustler is to stick and move
And make you say: "Damn, what's his name?
Got to give a nigga props cause the kid got game"
Mad game, fool, I base my hustle not on strength
But think, you say 'the liqor store', I say 'brinks'
Cause my mind's on the massive roll of the dice
The magnitude of my game's insane, precise

So now you're mad cause I got money and you don't
The hustlers win, the busters won't
What can I say, you can't come out and play
With the real ones, dig this
You'll get broke with the quickness
I don't gamble, I cheat when it's on
Two g's on the table, two in my palm
And if I spill up, I pull the nickel .25 strap
Then the place gets flat and then I'm out the back
With my niggas and them 4's on thangs
And if I really wanna floss I flex my Bentley wings
Damn, over your head, got a problem
Keepin lyrics down to earth so normal niggas can solve em
But the game's extreme so quit your high beams
And increase the light, now can you see me, you might
If you ever been to jail or shot, sold rocks
I'm talkin 'bout weight down like movin ki's and pounds
But every nigga in the hood ain't fly