Yeppa Yeppa homeboys
That's the nigga Low-G
Puttin' it down for the nina eight
We givin' prop, what we did this week
So don't trip, if we forgot your click

I move a hundred pounds in my hustle town
Come around fuck 'em down with my underground
Puffin' pow-wow clouds in my T.P.
But my hina' hollerin' release me
Prime time like shines on the high mimes
Hellafied rhymes, huh, you rewind twenty-five times
Another fool puttin' down the truth,
You can't fuck with the riddla' on the roof
Mista', go get her, kick the mo' better
If she wanna go, fuck the ho, let her
The wanderer, hill wood hustler,
Turn your back on your gail and I, uh, straight clown in my H-town
Is you hoes really ready for the take down?
Break down, stay ground, my niggas don't play round, pop pop,
Make your whole click catch the Greyhound

Geto Boys, Master P, DJ Screw, Kid Frost, Mobb Deep,
Ese Fools, Ice-T, Fat Pat, Public Enemy,
We, put the streets on beats

Makaveli, Rakim, Hillwood Hustlers, Most Hated,
Too $hort, Bone Thugs, Dogg Pound, Nas, The Fugees,
We, put the streets on beats

Stick & move, hittin' lics, sweep 'em left to right
Act a fool when I one two check the mic
Come trip with the pimp in the smoke-ray lac
I jump in this shit and there's no way back
Creep the seven seven Seville convertible
My Cadillac got a 3-foot verticle jump in the front
Bump in the trunk, weed turn to smoke, skunk in my blunt
I'm the cool homeboy, I'm a fool with no patience
Got a dopehouse in seven locations
Professional, but don't test my testicles
On the pedestal I'm colder than an eskimo
Gotta have it, causing panic with an automatic
And leaving myself, no one else saw my magic
Gifted child, raised in the wicked wild
Put the street on beats, who trippin' now?

Run DMC, KRS-One, Mass 187, Spice 1,
Herschelwood Hardheadz, Tolo G,
We, put the streets on beats

DJ Quik, Big Fifty Snipe, Criminal Rage,
20-2-Life, N.W.A., Lil' Kim, Rasheed,
We, put the streets on beats

I be the actual, factual, rap supernatural, blowin' up national
It's understandable, not to mention
what I'm stressin' leave you second guessin'
Dope sell itself, saw my CD steady pressin'
It can't see me, I flow so freely, you motherfuckers more slimier than seaweed
Jus' to pee-wee, son you watchin' too much TV, I'm on CD
See mo' pussy-cat than tweety!
On the underground nation, layin' foundation
The biggest problem that H-Town's facin'
Did a lot of wrong, but mom, stay calm, cause now I drop bombs on CD-Roms
Your raps get pimpslapped, you kickin' bubblegum
Only real niggas know where I'm comin' from, under confusion
Run up on Houston, and bow down to the styles I am usin'

Trinity Garden, E.S.G., Street Military, Bam, Al-D
K-Rino, Point Blank, Klondike, Botany,
We, put the streets on beats

Wicked Cricket Troublemaker, A.C. Chill,
Biggie Smalls, Outkast, Cypress Hill
Lighter Shade of Brown, Malascho, W.C.,
We, put the streets on beats

He's a riddla aaaaaaaa
The muthafuckin riddla aaaaaaaa


Silently
I receive my degree
I got my masters in dope fiend psychiatry
Like the weed my brain buzzin like a bee
Flyin free I only fear sobriety
Shy police
Invading my privacy
We set a lot in court
They accepted my bribery
Finally I let this irony inspire me
They dying silently
Really jus tryin to be
Society denying me
So my pro-bity
Is flippin ghetto ivory
Oh my dear diary
My hood is fiery
They admire me
Will I die a G or will I build a dynasty





It's the riddla on the roof
Rose from the bottom came to speak the truth
It's the riddla on the roof
An eye for an eye
A tooth for a tooth



Yeah that's right it's ya boy Rasheed
All the way from the North Philadelphia ghettos
To the South Park slums
Representin in that Dope House with my man
The South Park Mexican
Say Los break these boys off once again


It's that vato
Convo you know how the song go
Get my freak on so
Watch for Santo
Pronto
Like a bronco
Turn him to a John Doe
I make ya body need bondo
I stomp hoes
Pop pop those hallows
A hard act to follow
A fool named Carlos
Ya know my matto
Don't act like a star bro
If ya talk don't pay ya damn car note
And although it's almost tomorrow
Cept for sorrow
Cause don't be a rap they can borrow
I swallow a ballo
Back at me lago
And G's hollerin bravo
Getting smoked like a Marlbro








Ain't no sympathy in the street
It's either him or me
Officially he the man that can get with me
Nigga please
My trigga squeeze come like the killer bees
Figure these the last days why stick wit G's
Initially my millimi make em history
Clinically approved to kill that ass instanly
Spill the beans and get in between my guillotine
Bitches fiend for my dope like nicotine
Sippin lean ya started with the triple beam
Competion tell me
Are you listening?
It's the king
Livin life like Pistol Pete
With me so heat
That'll make yo body incomplete
Epidemy of a mental facility
I take ya nuts and hang em on my Christmas tree
Simpily I don't slip but I'm slippery
Unseen like the n-tity
Really be sick of beef
I disagree wit ya trickery
Blast like Yosemite
Smoke ya ass like a hickory
Industry
Ya fixin to see my embassy
Critically acclaimed forever yo mystery







A tooth for a tooth
A tooth for a tooth

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Now spread the word
I got them bricks on the dead end streets
And watch them jump out boys
Cause they rollin ten deep
Creep crawlin the night
Ya know the deal
In the muthafuckin Hill
We all strapped to kill
Chill hittin licks in the wind that never ceases
Mad cause they askin me for three dollar pieces
How the fuck I'm suppoesed to come up
Of a shy move
Run up on a twenty and get yo ass an ice cube
It ain't nuthin why you bumpin in yo Cutlass
Jus understand the roughness
Never cut for the gutless
Cause it's do or die
You ask
Who am I?
I was a heartbreaker ever since junior high
Eye of the public
The Brown be a suspect
So the streets taught me to be loveless
Causin rawkus
In a dope fiends bucket
My two favorite subjects were
Shut it and fuck it


The night shift
Young hustlers workin grave yards
The night shift
Street soldiers workin grave yards
My nine be
Beside me
Tonight we
Work the night shift
My nine be
Beside me
Tonight we
Work the night shift


It's yo midnight mistress
Playa named Pimpstress
I keep it crunk handle AH on my business
Queen of the click
Fiend for my shit
I'm sucked and corrupt
Sixteen in my click
From black and mop
You can't crack my style
Playa hatin bitches make me crack a smile
Tonight
With whoride
In the moonlight
My feria ruka sound like the fuckin chula
Fools die
Fuckin wit my feria
Daddy steaks wanna marry the
Emperiala
Nina Ross, Mary Jane, Ms. Cocaine
The three devils brought us deep in the dope game
So strange
True G's won't change
Close range
Left ya boys wit no brains
Street zombies
Takin out posses
Dangerous hobbies
Jus call me





Alone in my home
Cock my gats
I'm known for my dope so I watch for jacks
Keep out burglar
Come on in
Bring all yo men let the games begin
Pumpin em in the cheek man I
Hot shots comin out my banana
Got plans like Santa Anna
Got balls like Tony Montana
Trick or treat
Feel my heat
Hear my muthafuckin drum beats
Don't believe the tales from my hood?
Come see
This ain't no joke you can smoke
This ain't no wonderland
I kick this shit so you motherfuckers understand
I pop mine
With a glock nine
Blow that head off a muthafuckin stop sign
Be the one never
You come I come better
Bring yo umbrella
I bring the rough weather
Pleasure one pleasure
Choppin up chedder
Ya whole crew get done by one fella

Yo, yo, I wanna welcome, welcome everyone to Hustletown
Are we recording?
Alright let's do this fellas.



For years I've been working on the block of rock,
For years I've been keeping nina glock on cock. [4X]

For years homeboy, for years....


Now if you wanna battle me then it's on,
I'm blowed while I'm creeping up whip out my Tek so now you gone.
You shouldn't have tried that set up now you ass is getting wet up,
Cuz real G's from the SouthEast will leave you haters trying to get up
You'll definitely get dealt with if your bitch ass has a death wish,
And on your grave I tag
it's the motherfucking Rick that you don't mess with
So let me keep stressing that lesson
to all y'all players and y'all haters
Haters keep watching y'all back
and y'all players keep creeping and stacking that paper


(Now) Now why do these haters wanna plex
Why do they wanna be starting mess
Get the fuck out my face is what I suggest
Cause I really don't think that you wanna test this Mex
Coming straight out the South East side of that Tex,
So if there's something you gotta get off your chest,
It's best that you don't express it.
It's hard enough for a Messican,
So I really don't need all that plexing,
There's all kinds of player haters out there
so please wait let me tell you about those.
First you got them fraud ass hoes,
Then you got them fraud popo's,
Then you got them fraud ass niggas in the street
who just wanna plex and take yours




Guess who's back from the pen,
Out to win, Sipping Gin with my kin folk,
Gots the grin on my face when I come through
If you ain't down with these G's motherfuck you
Cause there's a straight up struggle in my barrio,
Second Ward getting high on the patio,
And when I'm wet I'm a threat to a rival set,
I get respect when I step with my new Tek,
Don't sweat I check hoes daily,
On the regular talking to your lady,
On the cellular creeping on the Lowride,
In the middle of the night with no lights,
In the four-five, chilling at the Dope House
Low-G is something you don't know about
Little tricks on my dick twenty-four seven,
Treat them like a bitch, and still got them hoes begging.
Keep it real for my people, I fear no evil
Staying high till I die flying like a eagle




You're superficial talking about life with a pistol
But youse a hoe living life clean as a whistle
My missles, oh they do leave body dimples,
Attack your whole staff like a pack full of pitbulls.
You simple, I'm complex,
And coming on next, Oh take a wild guess,
The South Park Mex,
Spark sess blow smoke in the darkness,
You don't wanna start mess with the heartless,
I be the smartest, hottest, artist.
My GM shine brighter than the golden arches,
Shooting star yes, Ol trick no blow indo
Before they kick door, Then flip coke,
Tip-toe to the top,
Tellin thug tales of wicked love spells,
Hoes and drug sales, Some fell,
In fact it's most,
So a toast to my niggas who died in the smoke.





H-Town, Hustletown, Did this for y'all, My boy Low-G.

Yo-yo homeboy, pass me dat
Yo, this is the song i wrote for the girl I love.
Her name, Mary Jane



Saggin my dickies, smoke like a hippy
Smell so good when she get wet and sticky
You lift me, girl you the bomb
Got a nigga blowin like Cheech and Chong
A bong, a blunt, or a paper square
It really don't matter she'll take you there
You been my gal since the age of 13
And Its funny to me, you still make me fiend
You put a spell on me with the green voodoo
You love when my boys come and run us a choo choo
Mary-Jane deep in the game
The way I feel words can't explain
You been true to me, stood by my side
I Wake up and get my mornings first high
Other hoes wonder why they get no love
Cause Mary got a big ol' but, HUH



Mary-go-round, round and round
Oh let the mary-go-round, pass the sweet



If yous a Jane user
Throw your hands in the air with this muthafuckin three time user
Producer, wanna cool my future (pass the sweet)
Pass the madusa, I never knews her
Who ya, Who ya think ya are
Ya fuckin with a dopehouse shootin star



Smokin that budda
Drinkin that puda
Booya, another killa from Madulas
I thug in rida chick gets me higher
Theres no needa tryna find a finer hyna
I decya my bitch your fya
Be bestet as we kids under plya



Mary-go-round round and round
oh let the mary-go-round
pass the sweet



Now you can do snow or get wet as the rain
Me man I got jane in my brain
Of course I kick doors for white whores
But my wife mary-jane I never get divorced
Cause she be tha only one fit for a playa
The green eyes and the pretty red hair
The hoes sick cause them jelous bitches wanna
Vyla coma vana Mariajuana
You was born in Mexico but I took the chance
And brought your ass across to the promise lands
I love to lay you down so soft in my swisha
act like a freak and let all my niggaz hit ya
I got your picture on all my walls
mama caught us kissin wanna call the laws
My family thinks you nothin but trouble
Cant see how you helped me through the struggle


Mary-go-round round and round
Oh let the mary-go-round
pass the sweet

Now come follow me
Down yellow brick road
To easier to see
Hillwood Hustla
Got what you need


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
Hillwood the place I gain my fame
16 in a 7-7 Seville
Smoke grey gold trim big daddy grill
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]




My money triple sippin ripple living simple
Rolling paper squares out a fat ass nickle
Trick on my dick for the bricks I chop
Pigs in my mix when they hit my block
Used to catch a raid bout every six months
Just a check up to see if id slip once
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
Fool I know your face and my boys I done hipped em
They want me bad so mad as they burn off
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]




I wrote this book bout a hopeless crook
Living in the land where the coke is cooked
Where hoes get took and the choke is good
Where smokers hooked and the soldiers hood
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
But I'm taking losses
It aint easy working jobs with no fucking bosses
Selling dope is the hardest thing a man can do
Risking life and your freedom for a buck or two
Still I feel if you loose control homie youse a ho
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]

Eh he he he he
Hustle Town my city maan!
Born and raised baby
Yo I dedicate this jam to all the single mothers
Raisin' men in a big city
I know it's hard
Let 'em know what's up Filero


I sell drugs with thugs
Hittin' licks off tricks
Workin' two jobs a dope deala and a pimp
Mom's beggin' me to stop everyday
So scared for me to walkâ?¦. Memory lane
But Mom don't worry my teck protect well
I told ya one day this rap shit gone sell
But my heart been broke from the start
Since the day my father died when I was seven in the park
So I wrote the book
How to pimp hoes and kick do's
And if I kill well than that's just how the shit go
Pull yo strap
What am I supposed to sweat
This the third time today that I come close to death


Hustle Town Hustle Town
The city of dreams
Where we creep through the hood
And we serve them dope fiends
Hustle Town
The shit don't stop
Roll rental cars
And we keep the glock cocked
Hustle Town
The city of dreams
Where we creep through the hood
And we serve them dope fiends
Hustle Town
The shit don't stop
Roll rental cars
And we keep the glock cocked


Set 'em up
Wet 'em up
Etceteras
Tell ya treasura
Empty the regista
Shit serious
I'll give ya life a period
Well here he is
The kid with experience
Don't start shit
Mistake me for an artist
Flash in the dark
Someone tell 'em where his heart is
Blue light
Who die?
Tonight
Maybe over two dice
Maybe cause he blew fry
On top of ya
With the Hillwood Mafia
Hard hittin' hustlas
Beat the draws off of ya
Knowledge
While my shit be flawless
Dope House Records step into my office




It's ya boy Lord Loco
Know what I'm talkin' bout
Representin' that H-Town wit my boy SPM
There's a lot of frauds out there know what I'm sayin'
What you think 'bout them fraud ass niggas Los?


Jackin' jaws
I'm packin' balls
Smoke and split
I give mo' gifts than Santa Clause
Wit a cold forty-ounce and a sack of hay
Chug a lug for the thugs who done passed away
Mista da Masta Mystical Mexican Maniac
Competition ha ha
You muthafuckas make me laugh
You a bitch if you hatin' on my Houston hits
I fight devils like you wit a crucifix
Ruthless shit
With a shotty
Take ya body
Gun Kung Fu
Mixed wit AK Karate
I'm sorry but you the past like Atari
As I smoke like Marley
Stay Brown like Charlie