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Artist: Smoothe Da Hustler
Album:  Once Upon a Time in America
Song:   Food For Thoughts
Typed by:, 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...