Lupe Fiasco: Nice Muhammad Walks

Lemmie tell ya what this fellow like, caught somewhere between stop and go like yellow lights(uh-huh)hustla so i gotta get it mellow right, down the block, round the clock, mezl like(?)i roll like cherry red jello dice, it whats(?) just the pop callin the kettle whiteits hot, just the block callin the ghetto wife, karma came its my ball and chainme or more hopefully i wont fall or hang like pictures on the walls, the halls of fameits just a boy man...look at what it all became, good and all but look at what, all remainsall the, floors and thangs, marks from all the claws and fangs, there were marks from all of yall that changedbustin back and all of yall i trained, apologizin ta all of yall i blamed*HOOK*Its what hustlas do and you aint did it till a hustla doand you aint know it till a hustla knewand you aint done till a hustla through, imma customer toits what hustlas do, and you aint seen it till you seen it through a hustlas viewopen ya eyes its a hustlas song, god forgive if this hustla's wrong[verse 2]its bigger things, so we pose a notion, strivin to be numba 1 till i overdosei speak it now with it on my tounge or the trought, youngest son runnin from older quotesthou shall not sin, thou shall not steal, thou shall not kill, thou shall not turn ya back on those in needi try ta flip but the government switch keeps me at his chosen speed, im just a rose in weedsand i rolls with reasons ta stay on this road i lead, till i leave with what i sold, my, soul and deedsleave my son with the sum in what i sold in deeds.....i foldin yo...probly headed for the pin like bowlin ballskept it directed at the pen and wrote it for yall..*HOOK*Its what hustlas do and you aint did it till a hustla doand you aint know it till a hustla knewand you aint done till a hustla through, imma customer toits what hustlas do, and you aint seen it till you seen it through a hustlas viewopen ya eyes its a hustlas song, god forgive if this hustla's wrong[verse 3]it takes alot of patence when you takin it on...alot of pacein...alot of makin it knowni aint the nigga they be placin it on, i was the king of this city...now they replacin the throwni know its alot of...hatin waitin at home, that she aint waitin you can hear the bass in her tonelike she cant make it alone a broken home and she need brace for the bones, all this from just embracin the phonealot of ballin up letters, alot of erasin of poems, alot of commin ta grips with the fact that you gonna be facin aloneall this time, all this time you was wrong, you know whatever happens i got youand whatever happen that happen(?), they was happy ta drop you, no letters or shoesno cheddar your mom sold sweaters, refuse to know better*HOOK*Its what hustlas do and you aint did it till a hustla doand you aint know it till a hustla knewand you aint done till a hustla through, imma customer toits what hustlas do, and you aint seen it till you seen it through a hustlas viewopen ya eyes its a hustlas song, god forgive if this hustla's wrong