Memphis Bleek, Hustlers: We need your help!

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by Memphis Bleek

Whats up with these lame-ass niggas, man?
I'm tellin' you
Niggas keep runnin' to this rap shit
You know mean?
Like why y'all built like that
Y'all niggas better pick up a basketball, or somethin'
Y'all niggas ain't ready for this shit

[Memphis Bleek]
If a nigga know the Memph
I ain't the type to front
I'll put any gun to you
What type you want?
Supply any drug for you
What high you want?
Bag any chick for you
Nicer slut
Yeah, I push hot fees
My niggas got cheese
You run around frontin'
Like you niggas got keys
You never flipped burgers
Your krew, I ain't heard of
Matter of fact, I'll murder ya
I heard you niggas spit shit
But it's indirect
Say my name
And see where I end this tech
I got a lot of love for this
But dog, I'm real
When it's beef, it's beef
When it's rap, it's real
Nothin' between
A lot of frontin' I seen
I done analyzed this game
It's nothin' but schemes
New ways to sell records
I aim for it
Put it out if it's hot
Not, Just ignore it

[Chorus: x2]
We them hustlers
And that's who y'all know
We get low, get dough
Flip gold for sure
We them gangstas
That's who we be
We got cheese
Pop three for R-O-C

[Memphis Bleek]
Yo, yo

This is my ghetto
I eat, sleep, breathe here
To tell the truth, dog
None of us goin' leave here
We die young, go to jail for murder 1
On a come-up, nigga
And that's where I'm from
I done learned from that Puff and that Lopez shit
I ain't runnin' in no club on some loco shit
I'ma catch you when you sit
Put 4 in yo whip
Catch your girl in the club
Put nut in your bitch
Niggas want to see the Memph go and lose his cool
Go and use his tool
Nigga, use the fool
You could bootleg my shit
I want me a chunk, deuce
I'm not a chump, I'll leave you slumped in the trunk
What part of that you don't understand?
Or ain't hear?
Dog, I put work in
I got a name, and my shit sound phenomenal
Still keep them things
Next to the abdominal

[Chorus: x2]

[Bienie Sigel]
Uh, uh, uh

Before these rhymes
I was bustin' these nines
Before these raps
I was bustin' my gat
Before the vocal groups
I spoke with the truth
Why do cats want to muffle my speech?
Imagine my raps
If I wasn't in touch with the street
On the block, deep
Wit my peeps touchin' the heat
I'm used to crack, now I'm slingin' raps
Hustler with beats
You niggas is lame
You cats can't touch what I reach
And quiet as kept
You niggas can't hush what I speech
My story's too deep
Life real, clear as the streets
See my iced grill, hear my voice clear when you sleep
You niggas know me
The cat who be tearin' these streets
Ain't nothing changed
But my name when I appeared on these beats
It's Bien Mac
Sigel was the name that they gave me
The streets that is
I'm tryin' to teach that, kids
Cause some niggas don't know that they be clowns
Hey yo, the sun don't go down
We go around

[Chorus: x3]

Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

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