It's 2 o' clock, i'm just about to hit the streets. Until i knock off this rock, i don't get to eat.
Sometimes, it's like that's the only reason why i hustle. Step on toes, strong-arm, show a little muscle. Ain't no real dough, that's why a bitch feel so frustrated, hate it, seeing bitches that made it.
And i'm robbin' bitches just as broke as myself. Fuckin' with queens ain't too good for a bitch's health. Where's the wealth? It ain't in new york. I gots to make my rounds, do whatever for the dollar. You know me.
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