[Verse 1: Jay-Z]
Poor me, dad was gone, finally got my dad back
Liver bad, he wouldn't live long, that snatched my dad back
Guidance? I never had that, streets was my second home
Welcomed me with open arms provided a place to crash at
A place to study math at, matter of fact, I learned it all
Burnt it all, this music is where I bury the ashes at
Flash back, not having much, not having that
Had to get some challah bread so you can holla back and
Holla at my Jewish lawyer to enjoy the fruit of letting my cash stack
And just in case a nigga gotta use his rat-tat-tat-tat-tat
Own boss, own your masters, slaves
The mentality I carry with me to this very day
Fuck rich, let's get wealthy, who else gon' feed we?
If I need it, I'ma get it however, God help me
[Hook: Jay-Z]
And I don't need no hook for this shit
[Verse 2]
I'm so fa sho', it's no façade
"Stay outta trouble," Mama said as Mama sighed
Her fear, her youngest son be a victim of homicide
But I gotta get you outta here momma, or I'ma die
Inside
And either way, you lose me, Mama, so let loose of me
I got the rein, our direction will soon change
To live and die in N.Y. in the hustle game
Hustle 'caine, hustle clothes, or hustle music
But hustle hard in any hustle that you pick
Skinny nigga, toothpick, but, but I do lift
Weight like I'm using 'roids
Rolls-Royce, keep my movements smooth while maneuvering
Through all the manure in the sewer that I grew up in
Choices we make trying to escape this shit
Poor me, dad was gone, finally got my dad back
Liver bad, he wouldn't live long, that snatched my dad back
Guidance? I never had that, streets was my second home
Welcomed me with open arms provided a place to crash at
A place to study math at, matter of fact, I learned it all
Burnt it all, this music is where I bury the ashes at
Flash back, not having much, not having that
Had to get some challah bread so you can holla back and
Holla at my Jewish lawyer to enjoy the fruit of letting my cash stack
And just in case a nigga gotta use his rat-tat-tat-tat-tat
Own boss, own your masters, slaves
The mentality I carry with me to this very day
Fuck rich, let's get wealthy, who else gon' feed we?
If I need it, I'ma get it however, God help me
[Hook: Jay-Z]
And I don't need no hook for this shit
[Verse 2]
I'm so fa sho', it's no façade
"Stay outta trouble," Mama said as Mama sighed
Her fear, her youngest son be a victim of homicide
But I gotta get you outta here momma, or I'ma die
Inside
And either way, you lose me, Mama, so let loose of me
I got the rein, our direction will soon change
To live and die in N.Y. in the hustle game
Hustle 'caine, hustle clothes, or hustle music
But hustle hard in any hustle that you pick
Skinny nigga, toothpick, but, but I do lift
Weight like I'm using 'roids
Rolls-Royce, keep my movements smooth while maneuvering
Through all the manure in the sewer that I grew up in
Choices we make trying to escape this shit
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