Artist: A-Villa f/ Roc Marciano Album: Carry On Tradition Song: A Hustler's Soliloquy Typed by: kirenamloh@msn.com {*Sampled from 2002 film "Paid In Full"*} "A nigga like me, man... I LOVE the game! I love the hustle, man I be feelin like one of them ball-playin niggaz, y'know? A Bird, a Magic, or somethin; yeah, you know a nigga got dough A nigga can leave the league, but if I leave... The fans still gon' love me, man? I done sold coke on these streets, man - hash, weed, her-on As long as niggaz is feelin it, a nigga like me could hustle it (*Light me up...*) That's my gift in life, A, y'know?" [Intro: Roc Marciano] Word up! Niggaz still hustle too, don't get it fucked up, baby Marc... Villa, my nigga, uh Shit gangsta right here, nigga, yanahmean? That's how we ride, nigga... Bwoy [Roc Marciano] Red ink, a sphinx, where bitches havin drinks I'm workin out the kinks, the weed stinks Tender the chickens in a clean sink Are we in sync? I think I need a shrink Minerals from A to zinc, gray minks, gators is pink A player's wink, a trill feel who is we Two semi's in the Benz Jeep, skin is sheep I'm unique, the tech nine sleek, bottle of bleaks Spearhead the operation with patience You tryin to taste what's in the cake mix, uh Rock the cake thast gave me lift like Blake Griff' It's not a myth, ignorance is bliss (word) We take risk, fornicate and taste the baked fish Shape shift, faceless, the A6 Break swift, them niggaz hit, they ain't shit Liquidate the chain and the bracelet (muh'fucker) [Chorus] Bang bang, nigga... You think this shit a game? It ain't a game, nigga Bang bang, nigga... You think this shit a game? It ain't a game, nigga ...Bang bang, nigga You think this shit a game? It ain't a game, nigga Bang bang... nigga You think this shit a game? It ain't a game, nigga [Roc Marciano] Yo, juggle jumbos, drop an O inside a crime gumbo Duckin Columbo, play the bungalow That's the honey comb, long gun, call him Mutombo The money never run low, we unload Young Marilyn Monroe stumble out the Gran Turismo Rocks flood the Hublot, it's true though Name hold weight like a sumo, you're smacked with the Mac double uno, then I attack the bubble culo Enjoy the moose, yo, she want a buck, I run the shrewd hoe (Bitch~!!) White Clarks with the blue sole Squeeze tools, read the news My Puerto Rican muse treat the wounds with the cubes The beef stew then maybe seafood, dim setting Otis Redding, my coat is shedding The G-Code is stone-embedded, I drew the line, don't overstep it They'll find you in a hole out in the desert, muh'fucker! [Chorus]