[Chorus 2X's]
Now come follow me
Down yellow brick road

To easier to see
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 ^!$$%s 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 papermate got me 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 ^!$$% more green [echoes]


[Chorus 2X's]

[Verse 2]

My money triple sippin ripple living simple
Rolling paper squares out a fat $$# 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 %#@!
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
$#&@ing 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 !@%!e 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 $#&@ing 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]


[Chorus 2X's]