[Murs] 

9th, it's the remix right? 

So what we gon' do is 

Further define the term "hustling" cause 

These fools on the radio got people thinkin 

you gotta sell dope or, be a killer or somethin but 

You could be in traffic right now 

On your way to school or, on your way from work 

You could be, flippin burgers, doin corp mergers

You still a motherfuckin hustler let's go 



A lot of people castin shade on the classic that we made but 

Say what you say we just ask to get paid 

And I might get laid if the remix gets played 

So throw this on the radio like 50 times a day 

I got my dude from the Yay, and my boy from H-Town 

Goin hard in the paint, with my man from Smackdown 

And you gotta back down, cause the grind don't cease 

While dudes likes {*edit*} is hard to find in the streets 

I hustle like the homey Fo-Five, rest in peace 

While you bark a lot about your glock, never had to walk the walk 

You ain't a gangster homeboy, just a dude who likes to talk a lot 

That's why you got your chain snatched in a Roscoe's parking lot 

In the M-I-D C-I-T-Y 

One verse'll melt the ice on your favorite rap guy 

No Jacob on my wrist, cause that's not what I'm about 

But I will find time to knock your favorite rapper out 

And I'm a 



[Chorus 2X: Murs] 

H-U-S-T-L-E hustler 

You'll never find a dime that ain't mine motherfucker 

Goal not to be broken have to stroll like a sucker 

So pay me what you owe me and don't play with me homey 



[E-40] 

Huh, check it out 

E-40-Water ain't gon' give it to you late (late) 

E-40-Water gon' give it to you straight, way before 1988 (8) 

I used to quarterback weight (weight) 

Did whatever it had to take to put out my first tape (tape) 

Tryin to outsmart the boys in blue 

Never knew how much I made (made) 

I used to throw 'em off with my glasses and my hi-top fade (fade) 

But I never pedalled woofy just that A-1 yo-yo mayne (mayne) 

That's off my cocoa leaf (leaf) 

Stapler in my du-duh-du-duhs, hubbles between my booty cheeks 

The same old clothes for weeks (weeks) gritty and sabalosa 

A turfed out motherfucker, in a Granada smoker roper (roper) 

Sippin on King Cobra (Cobra) bankroll full of huns (huns) 

Fluffin that Public Enemy, "Mi uzi Weighs a Ton" 

(Ton) Oooh, and it was off to the hood (hood) 

Local boy from Vallejo, that player done made it GOOD! (good) 

And I wish a sucker would, try to knock my hustle (hustle) 

Fuck these motherfuckers I was brought up in the struggle! 



[Chorus] 



[Chingo Bling] 

Chingo Bling the boss, I could never get a layoff 

America would shutdown if Mexicans took the day off 

Freeways, construction keys, and nines bustin 

Playboy we hustlin, end of discussion 

one tamale dos tamales tres tamales 4

when chingo needs some money he'll be kickin down your door 

This is for my slangers and hustlers in wranglers and rustlers 

We bangin on busters no justice just us 

Definition of the hustle, is mind over muscle 

Chingo Bling be "Tango & Cash" like Kurt Russell 

Bootleggers lovin Chingo cause my shit really sells 

If they was bootleggin you, they could barely pay the bills 

Streets askin ju got heart, ju dudes is pop tart 

One good lick you get knocked out the pop charts 

That's why I grind from the ground up 

They see me nowadays I be bling blowed up, Ching bling



[Chorus] 



[John Cena] 

Yo Murs, this John Cena from the WWE 

Fillin you in on a different struggle 

The struggle that takes place in four corners y'know 

And it go like this 

You think it's all fun and games but this shit is no joke 

The type of stage where the millionaires be cuttin ya throat 

They move quick but I'm quicker, Cen' stiffer than straight liquor 

You fall by the wayside I ain't gon' lay wit'cha 

Born to keep movin, provin 'em wrong 

A straight hustler, stay true to the song 

In the street they  shot heat to try to settle a beef 

In the squared circle, you feel the metal to teeth 

plus everybody lovin you, when you feedin 'em steak? 

You fall off you look around you'll be seein who fake 

A true hustler, fall on his face and keep risin 

So just when they counted me out, I surprised 'em 

Fuck a dollar out of 15 cents, when I be clockin in 

My punch card make money appear, out of oxygen 

As long as I'm breathin, my pockets will swell 

And John Cena's the kid, that go through hell for a cell, what?