Artist: Death Grips
Album:  The Money Store
Song:   Hustle Bones
Typed by: AZ Lyrics

Give a fuck whatchya heard
Yeah fuck whatchya heard
Fore this real shit kicked your whole click to the curb
What, what..
But you don't hear me though

Run up bitch to the death get gripped my steeze is ballin' out
Of control whatchyou know 'bout bubblin'
Hustle bones comin' out my mouth

Hustle bones comin' out my mouth {*repeat*}

That hot lic a shot
Never not strapped
Wit a Glock tongue cocked
Run it back
That knock a cop off unconscious Molotov
Cocktailin' sound bomb a snitch
Flat line of chalk drawn round the clock
Too many marks dropped to count the stiffs

Stuck on the fence
How does it feel
It don't make sense
Nothing is

That rip you a new one trick I'm the true one
And only never know me never will no son
Leave ya laid out to fade out
Show a cunt the door
Hit and run
Hustle bones comin' out my mouth

Hustle bones comin' out my mouth {*repeat*}

That can't wait to blast
Blood stained knuckle brass gives a fuck sick wit it flav on
That ex con
Hard to the bone
Darkness from the zone
Mastered and pushed far beyond

Eons beyond the line never crossed
By dem punks livin' soft while I ride that bomb
Dr. Strangelove
Into the sun
Look no hands megatons
Rode like man we can't lose
No shit, no shit

That hit it till it drip wit
Da blood of the raw way
It was fore dem forgot
Why doin' dirt, make slang sound tough gong original
fuck the wrong way
Only one real way to work
That shit out da
Beat street spit
Über freaked heat lit
Hell flame to your brain
Blood thirst
What what..
Run it back, run it

Run up bitch to the death get gripped my steeze is ballin' out
Of control whatchyou know 'bout bubblin'
Hustle bones comin' out my mouth

Hustle bones comin' out my mouth {*repeat*}

Criminal intent anti-legal ill
Thief in the night peel your life back spin the wheel
{*4X*}

Run it back, run it