Mind of a Hustler
[Intro: Hoodrich Pablo Juan]
(Zone 6 nigga, Pyrex whipper)
(Pyrex)
Yeah

[Chorus: Hoodrich Pablo Juan]
Dripping, I mix the designer with custom
Heart of a killer, the mind of a hustler
Don't trust myself, why the fuck would I trust?
Fill up my savings, put stones in my bust
Stand on the pedal, I leave ’em in dust
Can't fit in the Lam' and we got the truck
Gotta stay down if you down on your luck
If I get locked up, I ain’t got nothing to discuss
I just feel bad for them niggas switched up
I probably sprained my ankle runnin' it up
I made a mil' in the booth and the trap
Ruth's Chris, nigga, we used to eat scraps

[Interlude: Hoodrich Pablo Juan]
Ha
Heart of a killer, the mind of a hustler
Pablo Juan, nigga, Hoodrich shit
I'm really from the hood, like (Hеart of a killer, the mind of a hustler)
I ain't had nothing, nigga, I was poor, nigga
Got nothing еlse to say about that shit, nigga
(Ayy, Pyrex, this motherfucker hard as fuck, slime)
Don't trust myself, why the fuck would I trust?
Hood
[Verse 1: Hoodrich Pablo Juan]
I used to have to walk to Dunkin' Donuts and catch ’em ’fore they throw that shit in the trash
I ain't no junkie, ain’t smoking my profit, scale it and bag it and get it off fast
Used to go to the marathon in the A1 just to have to get it all, nigga, straight glass
Trap it on McAfee by 2nd Ave
Ran up a milli', still ready to crash
Tank on E, but I still got that gas
Niggas know me, I ain't even gotta brag
Sosa my dog, that's the plug out Iraq
Money Power Respect, throw away in the money rag
Came up from shit, how the fuck can I lose?
Thought I was pussy, you got me confused
Really, I can’t wait 'til somebody try me, I bet he'll be dead if he don't make the news
Got dope in the car, I just put it on cruise
Can't walk a mile in my shoes
Double C, standing in Candler Crossing
They bring all that money like David Ruffin
I was trapped out the 'partments, you rapping and bluffing
You must be stupid, don't tell me you love me
Deuce in the cream, when I mix it, it's bubbly
Serve out the window, McDonald's, they loving it

[Chorus: Hoodrich Pablo Juan]
Dripping, I mix the designer with custom
Heart of a killer, the mind of a hustler
Don't trust myself, why the fuck would I trust?
Fill up my savings, put stones in my bust
Stand on the pedal, I leave 'em in dust
Can't fit in the Lam' and we got the truck
Gotta stay down if you down on your luck
If I get locked up, I ain't got nothing to discuss
I just feel bad for them niggas switched up
I probably sprained my ankle runnin' it up
I made a mil' in the booth and the trap
Ruth's Chris, nigga, we used to eat scraps
[Verse 2: CEO Trayle]
Ayy, this an Audemars, this not a Rolex
Uh, trap like I need Bowflex, finna go hit that store next
Uh, send a whole blitz
Ayy, can't teach an old dog new tricks
Niggas just 'round 'cause they saw me lit
Niggas wasn't around, no cheese in my grits
With some all black 1s, I kick
Hating-ass nigga, you saw my shit
Ayy, nigga, I don't need that bitch
Nigga, ain't nothing to ball that bitch
Ayy, nigga, I seen that switch
Nigga, I damn near called that shit
Ayy, love these Percs, can't call it quits
Can't love no ho, that's all she get
Uh, nigga might cop four bricks
Uh, nigga might cop a stick
My bitch keep tryna start arguments
I'm at the backdoor, foe, you started this
Shoot my shot, I hardly miss
Put titties on that, take off the dick
Ayy, she suck the dick, she saw my wrist
Ayy, she tried to kiss, I jawed the bitch
Ain't no rapper, I ain't making no diss
Well-known stepper, I step on shit
Well-known flexer, I flex up, bitch
Four of Wockhardt, go get my kid
Yeah, yeah, pouring up drank, I sip
Said, "Free 'Blo," with it on my hip
Ayy, you know I'm eating Pringles, stack my chips
I was mixing all this designer drip
[Chorus: Hoodrich Pablo Juan]
Dripping, I mix the designer with custom
Heart of a killer, the mind of a hustler
Don't trust myself, why the fuck would I trust?
Fill up my savings, put stones in my bust
Stand on the pedal, I leave 'em in dust
Can't fit in the Lam' and we got the truck
Gotta stay down if you down on your luck
If I get locked up, I ain't got nothing to discuss
I just feel bad for them niggas switched up
I probably sprained my ankle runnin' it up
I made a mil' in the booth and the trap
Ruth's Chris, nigga, we used to eat scraps

[Outro: Hoodrich Pablo Juan]
Dripping, I mix the designer with custom
Heart of a killer, the mind of a hustler
Don't trust myself, why the fuck would I trust?
Fill up the savings, put stones in my bust
Don't trust myself, why the fuck would I trust?