Songtexte: South Park. Hustle Town. Wizard Of Oz.

[Chorus 2X's] Down yellow brick road To easier to see Now come follow me Hillwood Hustla Got what you need [Verse 1] It were plain to see Since the age of three One day dope fiends'll be pagin me I got crunk in the game niggas knew my name Smoke grey gold trim big daddy grill 16 in a 7-7 Seville Hillwood the place I gain my fame Back in '86 I was choppin bricks To think a damn paper made ?? rich I got love for the hustlas in every hood But hate in your heart it'll never be good I feel blessed but confess I blow sess for my stress Its that Mex with a S on my chest None the less I was real with the homies With the O-Z's running from the police No peace blow sweets on cold streets Dope fiends gon bring a nigga more green [echoes] [Chorus 2X's] [Verse 2] Rolling paper squares out a fat ass nickle My money triple sippin ripple living simple Trick on my dick for the bricks I chop Pigs in my mix when they hit my block Just a check up to see if id slip once Used to catch a raid bout every six months Call it one time some rhyme bout this shit I can slide in my sandals but never will I slip Undercovers hit the set man yall funny Taking them crumbs and giving marked money Trying to convict em I aint fallin victim They want me bad so mad as they burn off Fool I know your face and my boys I done hipped em Fucking with them hoes now my blunt done turned off No other way just another day on the spot If you play then you pay it dont never stop [echoes] [Chorus 2X's] [Verse 3] I wrote this book bout a hopeless crook Living in the land where the coke is cooked Where smokers hooked and the soldiers hood Where hoes get took and the choke is good That lonely Wood where his homies stood Trying to change myself if I only could Im just your Hillwood Hustla street rhyme rustler Blowing more smoke than a broke down muffler It aint easy working jobs with no fucking bosses But I'm taking losses Risking life and your freedom for a buck or two Still I feel if you loose control homie youse a ho Selling dope is the hardest thing a man can do Real g's keep they life on cruise control When the police kick door and raid my crib I tell em pigs of the slippers thats not what I did [echoes] [Chorus 2X's]