Artist: Smoothe Da Hustler Album: Once Upon a Time in America Song: Food For Thoughts Typed by: Grahamninja21@yahoo.com, Matt Jost The question is why, the answer what makes If you want my opinion I tell ya don't take [VERSE 1: Smoothe Da Hustler] Why is it hard for my words to get heard The uncut give it to niggas raw gets absurd Why is it every black brother talk the slang Why is it that slang determines if a brother hangs Why is it that people judge niggas by how they look Why is it that hoodies on my head makes me a crook Why is it that people gotta struggle to survive Why is it that nine to five is harder to get in '95 I wonder why is it that those that heard of me Started making records all of a sudden wanna murder me Why is it that niggas talk the talk but never walk the walk So why talk the talk if you're scared to walk New York Why is it that those who chose to live the street life Greet life with a slug to his mug and scared to meet life I wonder why is it harder for my family Why is it the man in me That keeps me thinking that nobody's understanding me [VERSE 2: Smoothe Da Hustler] What makes a man a strong one What makes a woman a strong one Don't confuse the wrong one Cause intellectual keeps it exceptional for both It's just my professional side that keeps me Wondering without a loaf What makes it possible for me to kick to you Predict to you for future reference For you to take heed, but that's your preference What makes 257 degrees from 187 on five-o's on tapes, LP's and CD's What makes 100 percent 110 percent - to be quite foul I build like 5 percenters on my lifestyle What makes my click my click What makes my chick my chick What makes my vic my vic What makes my dick tastin slick I wonder what makes a hustler crew Is it what I slang to you behind doors Or what I bring to you from off the mind because What makes me slow as this What makes me grow as this What makes me know and blow is this [VERSE 3: Smoothe Da Hustler] Now that everything's off the chest There's a couple of matters that I must attend to before I rest Don't take my family Don't take my people Don't take Nexx Level cause to me there's no equal Don't take my click Don't take the hoodies and the hats Don't take the burners and the gats Don't take the BMW's and the MPV's Don't take the keys Don't take the G's Don't take the gooses Don't take the brims Don't take the Karl Kani jeans or the Timbs Don't take the studio Don't take the tracks Don't take the spots Don't take the cracks Don't take the weed that I smoke Don't take the name Smoothe wrong, don't take this jam for a joke Don't take the players and the hustlers getting cash Don't take the projects Don't take the ave Don't take the females I talk to Don't take the glock that I cock upon the blocks that I walk through Don't take my daughter, don't take my son Don't take my pride - ever died by the gun? Hold this...