Beanie: Yeah, Sparks in here, the truth in here
Sparks: Yeah
Beanie: Yeah, witness, Tales of a hustler
Sparks: I'm going to ride, nigga
Beanie: Ya know, this just the life we live, uh; this just the life we lead
Sparks: Yeah, yeah, gangsta
Beanie: Tales, tales
Sparks: Gangsta! Yeah
Sparks: Sugar coat

Omillio Sparks, the young gun
My life as an adolescent, said I'll go through something
Other guys try to stand in my way like brick walls
So I kept guns in my palm like Messiah scripts in Psalms
I should fear no man but God
So, Lord knows we could get it on
Guns baptized guys testing my pride
Clearing my conscience in the liquor store
With a fifth of Thunderbird, but I be guzzling hard
Playing the corners with a washed-up old-head
Chant tunes by the Whispers
Same corner where I banged at with niggas
Cops drive by and grin on us
If they grabbed then
One of them nosy neighbors done snitched on us (Again?)
Hey, this game juicy got me puffing loosies
Every two days interrogated by the police
See, this life I live cost more than your Roley's money
It cost my homey Nook his whole life, ya heard me?
When he was here, it was easy to love him like a brother
Now that's he's gone I find it difficult to talk to his mother
I mean, what do you say to a woman
That's just lost her only son to the game and the gun, except
"Mami, I'm a ride for him."?
The look that she gave me like, "Sparks, you got some nerve."
'Cause most of these niggas don't keep their words
Now I'm under pressure
And I can't even break that type of promise
And y'all niggas paint that picture
Risking your freedom
On the strength of memories of him
The time he made you laugh
The time he bust his gat when them other niggas ran
How real is that?
Omillio Sparks, niggas, holla back

Tales of a hustler

[Chorus x 2]
In this life you not promised tomorrow
So take the bitter with the sweet and maintain
In these vicious streets
Carry your heat, and keep your mind on your money
Life's a gamble; everybody got a number, homey
Tales of a hustler!

I'm back to the block with it
Wait, let me clear that up
I'm back to the blocks that you get when your block get it
Get hard with that hot water when the pot hit it
Get large with a little water when you pop wit' it
I send hope to late scramblers
Sling coke to you late you scramblers
Go broke, sling soap to you late night scramblers
No joke, I'm a crook; catch hooks broke; late night gamblers
Look, you loose limbs when fuck with him
That be I strapped and high
FBI all on back, want to trap the guy
Got niggas in all black want to snatch my pies
Never that, too many gats
Too many guns
Too many vests
Tough guys, not too many left
Where they at?
Dead or locked behind bars in jail
I know I ain't too far from hell
I'll spit the devil these bars in hell
Dog, I been through it, son
Look at my scars and tell
Catch Mac in a Chevy truck slightly tented
No excuses on who might be in it
You know passenger twisting backwoods
Slightly spinning
Crack the window, the indo slightly scented
Splash of haze and hash lightly blended
Put the pressure on niggas who might be timid
Like, you got like a minute
To put the cash in this bag or ya ass just might be in it
In small piece, I'll snatch your family up
Start from tall nephews to your small nieces


Lyrics submitted by spliphstar

Tales of a Hustler Lyrics as written by Michael J. Clervoix Dwight Grant

Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group

Lyrics powered by LyricFind

Tales Of A Hustler song meanings
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