Get It How You Live

Double S, never less baby

Twista and Scott Storch in a dropped Porsche

That new shit, check it out

[Chorus: 2X]

My neck on bling, cris on chill

Standing on the corner steady, trying to make a mill

When it come to hustling, got to get it how you live

And I'm on the come up, so motherfuck how you feel

[Verse One]

My fingers on frost, ears on froze

Hanging at the club while hoes slide down the pole

Rolling with the Gs and the Foes and the Souls

With two bitches on my arms, sporting thousand dollar clothes

Looking kind of stunning, so the cameras on flick

Ain't no motherfuckers out here that can do it like this

On top of my game, and when a hater's all fall

Imma be smiling, revealing my grill from Paul Wall

Shake it for me bitch, let me see you get loose

Let me see you sipping on some shit that's 80 proof

Let me see if Imma let you get up in the 'lac

Bend over so I can see how Imma hit it from the back

I hustle wit the rhymes, but I'm better wit the keys

And I'm clubbin' wit the pees, I get cheddar wit the fees

I'm always on the hustle, so don't ask why I succeed

I got flows, I got dro, I got whatever u need

[Chorus: 2X]

[Verse Two]

Tires on shine, rims on gloss

When it come to mobbing, Imma motherfucking boss

I stay making paper, behind the mic and on the tipping

I ain't stingy wit the dust, the whole crew ride slick

Think you shitting on the nigga t, I doubt that

My flow will make your booty move, like a house track

Have 'em at the party screaming, "Get the doe", "Get the doe"

And if I ever go broke, I guarantee to bounce back

If beats was like a tipper, then my flow would play the cane

Got shit to make you float off the floor, like David Blaine

You rich because I spit it universal to the drums

And I circle with some guns, blow out purple out my lungs

I pimp and fuck a bitch, I don't need to buy her 'lacs

I be on the move, staying paid pushing Cadillacs

Investing in my raps, if I don't make a quarter back

I throw eight balls to my homies, on the corners like quarterbacks

[Chorus: 2X]

[Chorus2: 2X]

Let me break your back shawty, show me what u got shawty

We some motherfuking killers, Chicago made niggaz making figures

[Verse Three]

Teeth on bling, rolly on flick

Standing on the stage while I'm holding on my dick

Bout to spit a new verse off out the mobstaz new shit

Holla walla pop the colla on my new outfit

If you want war, you think you got rounds to come get me

I think you better go smoke a whole pound of that sticky

keep on talking that you're not hate around your committee

Imma dodge that nigga that put it down for the city

[Chorus: 4X]