N***a, ask about me…
I'm a hustler; I'm a hustler, homie
I got the product, narcotics for customers, homie
Fiends open they be smoking like a muffler, homie
N****s phony so I only got a couple of homies
If you a hustler I could fuck wit you, homie
You spend a couple of bucks I stay in touch with you, homie
I get money; I get 20 to a K
I got 20 strip although I'm 20 today
I get cake from buds and haze I'm making dubs
They hating ‘cuz I'm on the grind like I'm making love
With cops got the block hot like a Jamaican club
Cop weight; wait for a drought, then I make a flood
Try to take my cake you gone take a slug
But you can take my information if you taking drugs
‘Cuz I can sell Raid to a bug
I'm a hustler, I can sell salt to a slug
- Cassidy
Back again I am… fresh off my weekend exploits. I’m a little tired – I had to wake up at 5 (ain’t that a b****!) to get my mother to the airport. I’m a little sad to see her go… but at least I’ll get my bed back; the loveseat lifestyle just wasn’t working for the kid. Sleeping on the couch is something reserved for spurned spouses or out of town escapades to your homie’s apartment. It was worth it though; Moms and I had a ball (when I wasn’t working) – guess I didn’t realize how much I missed her. I did remember how good her cooking was… she threw down a nice little spread of chicken, potato salad and macaroni cheese.
While partaking of this wonderful assortment of soul food, I mentioned to her that she could be rich if she opened up her own restaurant (yes, her food is that good). She said she wanted to open a juice bar if she became rich. Am I the only person wondering why anyone would want to open a juice bar? Anyway, that got me to thinking… a lot of people have different ideas on how to get PAID… and they hustle to get that paper. I can’t get mad at them – hell; I applaud them… mainly because I’ve seen nothing but hustling since I was a kid.
Let me first explain that there are subtle differences in the levels of the hustle: the good and the evil.
Good: boost from the trains
Bad: people’s houses and vehicles
Now that you know the difference, you must identify them in everyday society…
Good Hustlers:
The dudes on the train selling something; 9 pairs of socks for $5, rock candy, t-shirts, barrettes, mix tapes, tickets to any event in the city, loose coochie, you name it – all in the name of the hustle.
Bad Hustlers:
Parents: Once they have you, they become invalids and recoup a sizable tax refund. (Go get me that remote, Junior… come turn off this light that I’m standing right next to… and other things of that nature.)
Preachers: They get you to pay your tithe, offering and always have other gving entities (such as the debt-free account, the new gymnasium fund, the scholarship fund, Miss Etta Mae’s foot surgery fund, send yo’ child to Africa fund…) while they are driving the S-Class into the church’s parking lot.
Everybody has a little hustler in them. For instance, we all know the dude who hooks up the community with cable for the low. We know the chick who braids hair in her basement for $50. My home-girl LeslieLou works with a site that makes T-shirts (DangerousNegro.com - by the way, it’s a nice selection of apparel for you militants out there.) My brother, Mr. H. is producing and selling his beats by the pound. Even I used to be a distributor of reduced entertainment (I used to sell burned CD’s).
I’m not saying it’s the way for everyone but most hustlers do what they have to do for survival. Next time, you’re in the barbershop and Lil’ Larry comes in with his DVD’s for $7 and multi-colored Air Forces, hook the man up with your business. Same thing goes for Danita with her monkey bread and various scented oils – break her off something. With all that being said – support your local hustle man; because a good deal is a terrible thing to waste.
I'm a hustler; I'm a hustler, homie
I got the product, narcotics for customers, homie
Fiends open they be smoking like a muffler, homie
N****s phony so I only got a couple of homies
If you a hustler I could fuck wit you, homie
You spend a couple of bucks I stay in touch with you, homie
I get money; I get 20 to a K
I got 20 strip although I'm 20 today
I get cake from buds and haze I'm making dubs
They hating ‘cuz I'm on the grind like I'm making love
With cops got the block hot like a Jamaican club
Cop weight; wait for a drought, then I make a flood
Try to take my cake you gone take a slug
But you can take my information if you taking drugs
‘Cuz I can sell Raid to a bug
I'm a hustler, I can sell salt to a slug
- Cassidy
Back again I am… fresh off my weekend exploits. I’m a little tired – I had to wake up at 5 (ain’t that a b****!) to get my mother to the airport. I’m a little sad to see her go… but at least I’ll get my bed back; the loveseat lifestyle just wasn’t working for the kid. Sleeping on the couch is something reserved for spurned spouses or out of town escapades to your homie’s apartment. It was worth it though; Moms and I had a ball (when I wasn’t working) – guess I didn’t realize how much I missed her. I did remember how good her cooking was… she threw down a nice little spread of chicken, potato salad and macaroni cheese.
While partaking of this wonderful assortment of soul food, I mentioned to her that she could be rich if she opened up her own restaurant (yes, her food is that good). She said she wanted to open a juice bar if she became rich. Am I the only person wondering why anyone would want to open a juice bar? Anyway, that got me to thinking… a lot of people have different ideas on how to get PAID… and they hustle to get that paper. I can’t get mad at them – hell; I applaud them… mainly because I’ve seen nothing but hustling since I was a kid.
Let me first explain that there are subtle differences in the levels of the hustle: the good and the evil.
Good: boost from the trains
Bad: people’s houses and vehicles
Now that you know the difference, you must identify them in everyday society…
Good Hustlers:
The dudes on the train selling something; 9 pairs of socks for $5, rock candy, t-shirts, barrettes, mix tapes, tickets to any event in the city, loose coochie, you name it – all in the name of the hustle.
Bad Hustlers:
Parents: Once they have you, they become invalids and recoup a sizable tax refund. (Go get me that remote, Junior… come turn off this light that I’m standing right next to… and other things of that nature.)
Preachers: They get you to pay your tithe, offering and always have other gving entities (such as the debt-free account, the new gymnasium fund, the scholarship fund, Miss Etta Mae’s foot surgery fund, send yo’ child to Africa fund…) while they are driving the S-Class into the church’s parking lot.
Everybody has a little hustler in them. For instance, we all know the dude who hooks up the community with cable for the low. We know the chick who braids hair in her basement for $50. My home-girl LeslieLou works with a site that makes T-shirts (DangerousNegro.com - by the way, it’s a nice selection of apparel for you militants out there.) My brother, Mr. H. is producing and selling his beats by the pound. Even I used to be a distributor of reduced entertainment (I used to sell burned CD’s).
I’m not saying it’s the way for everyone but most hustlers do what they have to do for survival. Next time, you’re in the barbershop and Lil’ Larry comes in with his DVD’s for $7 and multi-colored Air Forces, hook the man up with your business. Same thing goes for Danita with her monkey bread and various scented oils – break her off something. With all that being said – support your local hustle man; because a good deal is a terrible thing to waste.
