1-900-hustler Lyrics - The Free

Here's a couple of suggestions of how you could finesse it 

You find a dude in town, you send him a short message 

Say, "Hey, I'm new in town, I don't know my way around 

But I got some soft white that's sure to come back brown 

I get that butter all night 

Cause most niggaz don't know a brick from a bike 

They keep buyin hard white 

And if you free tomorrow night we can meet and discuss price 

FYI, I never been robbed in my life" 

Or, you find a chick, shit, you hole up in her crib and 

Let her introduce you 'round town like her man 

Shake hands, make friends like it's all innocent 

Then, before they look up you sellin the town cook-up 

Or, gorilla pimp, come up on that killer shit 

Take a nigga brick, smack him, then you sell it back to them 

Still there Brooklyn? 

Yeah yeah that's gangsta, I think I'ma roll with that one 

Make out a check for eight hundred dollars 

Jigga Man, holla 

1-900-Hustler, Sigel, holla at your boy 

Whassup Sig? This Chris out the Young Guns dog 

Whattup? 

I'm ready to smash these niggaz in the rap game 

The niggaz takin too long with that advance money and shit 

Yeah 

Talkin 'bout chill, chill don't pay the bills 

Yeah I feel that 

I know you well connected dog 

Let me holla at somebody real 

Aight look, I got the perfect person for you, hold on 

Bleek, line two 

Listen shorty, you wanna roll just give me the word 

I ain't got time for a sentence all that shit is absurd 

You find a strip first, if you don't cook find a bitch first 

If you don't hustle find a nigga who pitch first 

You new in town, no red and blue in town, there's gangs 

Don't get fresh, let 'em know you small change 

The strong move quiet, the weak start riots 

We know you got a brick but sell 'em twenties til they tired 

With no credit, you know you sick with that gotta eat fetish 

And other niggaz who gettin it, dead it 

Make 'em an offer that they can't refuse 

He resists, box him in, til he can't be moved 

Here's the rules: chop it, bag it, stash it, stack it 

Get in, get out, that's a O.G.'s classic 

900-Hustler, you pass it around 

Wanna speak to me direct, hit extension trey-pound, I'm out 

1-900-Hustler, Sigel, holla at your dog 

What seem to be the problem young boy? 

Yo whattup, this Murder Def Kill Homicide Nigga 

I got two freaks 

Yo watch your fuckin mouth man 

Fuck you mean watch my mouth nigga? 

Been on hold for about two hours nigga 

I don't give a fuck how long you been on the line 

Shut the fuck up! Matter of fact, hold on 

I know this nigga ain't just put, put me on hold man 

This bullshit-ass elevator music 

Free, pick up line five 

First things first, watch what you say out your mouth 

When you talkin on the phone to hus-tlers 

Never play the house, think drought, keep heat in the couch 

When you sittin in the presence of cus-tomers 

Never hold out, pull out, throw heat and be out 

If a nigga ever think that he touchin-ya 

Lay low, get cake, whip all over the state 

Stash dough, whip yay with, right amount of bake (hoe!) 

Nigga too close went right around his place (yo!) 

You stoppin dough when we clutchin the gats? 

I know you heard "Friend or Foe," this ain't different from that 

Make sure you got your four-four and he can slip if he like 

Young, Jon Benet daughter missin tonight and yo 

Until you up stay away from them dykes and whores 

Three smuts, two straights and a dyke 

Can pause one-three rumbles two streaks and a pipe for sure 

And if it's tight, then he might come back for more 

Nine and four, everyday back and forth 

Winter to summer, 1-900-Hustler 

Pass the number til you're stackin balls 

Tell you how to weigh shit wet and package more 

I take cash or write the check out to F-R 

Two E's, that'll be two G's 

And forget my money I'm comin for all your ki's, nigga 

1-900-Hustler, Sigel, holla at your boy dog 

Yo what up young, you put me on hold earlier man what happened 

Yeah you stupid motherfucker {Watch your mouth man} 

You talkin all reckless on the phone