Who you suckers think you trippin' with? Yes, I'm the boss Seven forty-five, white on white, that's Rick Ross I cut 'em wide, I cut 'em long, I cut 'em fat I keep 'em comin' back, we keep 'em comin' back
I'm in the distribution, I'm like Atlantic I got them pretty thangs flyin' 'cross the Atlantic I know Pablo, Noriega, the real Noriega He owe me a hundred favors
I ain't petty, playa, we buy the whole thang See most of my homies hustle, they still do they thang My roof back, my money rides I'm on the pedal, show you what I'm runnin' like When they snatch black, I cry for a hundred nights He got a hundred bodies, servin' a hundred lifes
We never steal cars but we deal hard Whip it real hard, whip it, whip it real hard I caught a charge, I caught a charge [- From :http://www.elyrics.net/read/r/rick-ross-lyrics/hustlin_-lyrics.html -] Whip it real hard, whip it, whip it real hard
Ain't 'bout no funny stuff, still flippin' them chickens I'm on my money stuff, still whippin' them Benzs Major league, who catchin' because I'm pitchin' Jose Canseco just snitchin' because he's finish
I feed 'em steroids to strengthen up all my chickens They're flyin' over Pacifics to be specific Triple C's, you know it's back, we holdin' sacks So n***, go on rat, run and tell 'em that Mo' cars, mo' hoes, mo' clothes, mo blows