Songtexte: Max Minelli. I'm All I Got. Hustla High.

[Principal Speaking]
Hello everyone (feedback)
Whoa...is this thing on?
Hello everyone, this is your principal Mr. Schnimlowski
Whoa son, that's not called for
Okay, and now I'm going to bring you your Valedictorian
of Hustler High, Class of .211
Your Valedictorian...Max Minelli!
Ladies and Gentlemen
Give him a hand as he takes the stage

[Max Minelli talking]
Whasup?
I did this here to pay my respects to where I come from
The school I went to
The hardest school in America
You know what I'm sayin'
Yeah. Where niggaz go to learn trades like
Rappin', sellin' dope, makin' beats
Playin' basketball, cuttin' hair, robbery
Shit like that
Yeah, It's Hustla High
Now check it

[Verse One]
The hardest school in the heart of the hood
Hustla High, where niggaz ride choppers and wood
It's the home of the warriors, jackers, and G's
Where the niggaz graduate and get they street degrees
And blow on trees at recess
Well respected Professers of the Grind teach these niggaz electives
And, niggaz think with a criminal head
Racin' cops up the block during physical ed
Go to jail, you don't fail, but that's detention
Unless you get life, permanent suspension
They only accept dudes to pay tuition
You deal with hoes to take notes on pimpin'
Uh, look and listen if you pass it pays
Ain't no PTA's, just some hot AK's
The only school that turn boys into 'timers
Niggaz fail, but I graduated with honors
From

[Chorus]
Where they hold class on the corner
And niggaz that pass recieve a thug diploma
(At Hustla High)
They teach shit that you don't read in textbooks
The game, and they breed the best crooks
(At Hustla High)
I learned rhymin', that's why I flow hard (big)
Dope money and rap sheet report cards
(At Hustla High)
Showed me somethin' new each day
.211 was my GPA, Nigga
(At Hustla High)

[Verse Two]
Ba Ba Ba
BOOM, I stepped out, repped out, My sets up
Learnt to slang that shit that tore the projects up
(If you) test us, get rolled on
Must be got ya people mixed up, this could get ugly
Uh, don't stand too close and don't touch me
Momma don't understand and my woman don't trust me
So all I had was the streets to make
Somethin' shake, got the hook up on some cheaper weight
I bled the block
Hid from the feds and cops
I got shit shakin' like aftershocks
Stack my knots, went and split my cash in half
Put fifty back in the streets and gave fifty a bath
I'm a G 'bout mine, jiggalatin'
Oh what, he tryin' to see 'bout mine? Nigga hatin'
But that's okay, put up a dub, I got one to match you wit'
I'm a certified Hustla High graduate
From

[Chorus]

[Verse Three]
Look
It's like I hustle for Air Max, you hustle for house slippers
Go 'head hate, fuck it, I got paid without niggaz
They well-wishers with they fake advice
I learned not to make the same mistakes twice
Seen niggaz fall, seen niggaz change the game
Seen broads catch brains with a few of them thangs
Seen baby G's kick doors off the frame
Jackin' niggaz for they J's and they piece and chain
Mane, niggaz come to learn how to get paid
Pick up a neighborhood skill and a gangsta trade
And never miss one day, perfect attendence
Pickin' fights with fake niggaz to vent they vengeance
That's my school, Hustla High stay fly
Stay beefin' with niggaz from Busta High
Keep slippin' and these boys'll jack you quick
Look around and I bet you know a graduate
Of Hustla High

[Chorus]