[Verse 1]

Yo, yo, I know niggas wit honor and will

That'll still crush the blow up and then pass they mama the bill

So I'ma always be able to burn my strip

cause my bags be stuffed and I burn my tips

And it ain't no tellin what the snub'll do

So when y'all go and cop vests cop one for your mother too

And I'm way better than them other dudes

But I'm stuck wit, what I'm stuck wit, cause I don't suck dick

Sat with the players and I stood with the coaches

And I'ma always be in the hood like roaches

Flow is ferocious, dough is ferocious

Two guns by each lung with no holsters

And I control all the fishscale in the city

And still make your first week sales look pretty

I come through, all you hear is chip in the muffler

And you could ask anybody if the Kiss is a hustler



CHORUS:

Styles: He's a hustler

Jadakiss: I hustle anywhere, any town, any borough, any strip, uh

S: He's a gambler

J: I always hold it down, gettin bankroll in 4, 5, 6 in trips

S: He's a gangster

J: I always make the paper and the FBI got me on they list, that's why

S: He's a Ruff Ryder nigga, Ryde or Die nigga

J: By the way, did I tell you that my name is Kiss?



[Verse 2]

And I don't understand how a broke nigga could chill

When a two liter'll dust you so get you a mil

Yes I got loose ends, poppin out the sunroof of the blue M

I'm like Lou Sims

And I'ma make sure they hit you wit both shotties

I think this summer's gon be the most bodies

You never ask a nigga in jail if he chillin

Just make sure you make all the sales in the building

Cuz now niggas think it's all right to tell

And you could put out some garbage and it might could sell

Alotta niggas be petty and sheist

But that's only til you treat 'em like a video and edit they life

This is a threat, when I talk you listen to death

And if I run out of money then my wrist is a bet

And the streets said they wanted more Kiss

Up north niggas pop me in, and do a hundred more dips



CHORUS



[Verse 3]

Yo, whether it's dope money or rap money, gamble the shit

Trey pounds of Mauseburgs, handle the shit

Got too big for the city, cops brought in the feds

So we moved across the map and brought in the bread

Niggas chill for a month and a half, no ruckus

Got the pictures of baggers and all of the gun busters

And you know how it go, cuz it rarely'll change

Everybody got a license and a alias name

We don't smoke when we hustle and none of us talk

Back to back til we home, we can front in New York

Cuz some of us is runnin from court

Smokin weed, mumblin thoughts

Tryin to stay humble for shorts

We could do this the mob way and kiss you on both cheeks

Or do it the hard way and shoot through your gold teeth

Stand on any block, play cee-lo and craps

And break niggas for they pack money, then give it back, uh



CHORUS 2X