#undergroundhiphop #90shiphop #boombap #dj #djpossi #vinyl #rap #respect #レコード
Man Q, what’s going on, brother? What’s happening, man? Man, I was out balling these underground tapes last week, man. Stepped out a fat Lex Drake to a teen, you know, asking to support the cause cuz I knew he had it. Did he get a tape? Oh, man. My CDs is in the store, man. I ain’t got to do that, brother. That’s small time. You lying, man. Yeah, man. I was like, you fool. Check this out. How can I survive in a city where it’s easy to die? Where I’m barely getting by and everything I need to live. I need a grip to buy, but I’m a do or die. No, I’m dirt hustling. I get down and dirty. When I’m hustling beyond selling, cracking, digging deeper than a jack wholesale balling, baby, [ __ ] the tax. Underground cash flows keep the planet moving. Proving that a man can make his own world like the movies, but this time I’m checking with the money and without the girl. I could have busted nutty. The ladies in loop that ain’t your buddy. Switch your game from silly putty to a smart bomb and get a plan. I had to return to where I got my game from to make my own job was my main thing son. I’m a grinding machine squeezing money out the seams. Getting dirty with my hustle, but I’m coming up clean. Material things, they all come from your dreams. I’m dirty with my hustle, but I’m coming up clean. I’m taking my dreams and then convert them into green. Getting dirty with my hustle, but I’m coming up clean. Playing takes on a triple beam. Music for your beans. Dirt hustling. Still coming up clean. Dude was not feeling me, man. You know, I told him I was just trying to come up with my fill just like he did, but without the middleman. And what did say? Well, you can keep on dreaming. I got a stable full of cars, fat mansions with 97 room bazar. See, I’m a superstar. Too large to get my hands dirty. Crap shootings for broke peasants are hardy. 20 G’s to sink your nuts in a hole. I flash a mill and put your daddy on the stroll. International credit banks on hold. Pockets lined with gold with moneywise that won’t fash your pocket still look skinny. Your big Ben Franklin’s only spin like 20s. Billionaire. You waste money I can use. whining and dining, buying ill-kinned tennis shoes with hell of bodyguards and limousines. But I’m coming up clean without the glitter and the gleam. I walk places that your punk ass is scared to ride through. Everywhere I go, I get much love, enough respect. Something that your grit won’t buy you. Greed sent your early birds to broken scramling. When up starts lose control, I’m handling. I’m a grinding machine squeezing money out the seams. Getting dirty with my hustle, but I’m coming up clean. Material things, they all come from your dreams. I’m dirty with my hustle, but I’m coming up clean. I’m taking my dreams and then convert them into green. Getting dirty with my hustle, but I’m coming up clean. Playing tapes on a triple beam. Music for your fiend. Dirt hustling, still coming up clean. I’m a grinding machine, squeezing money off the seams, getting dirty with my hustle, but I’m coming up
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