Artist: T.I.
Album:  T.I. vs. T.I.P.
Song:   Respect This Hustle
Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com
 
[Intro]
Huh, yeah (AY! You already know what this is homie!)
Aiyyo what you yellin for man? (Man shut the fuck up talkin to me man)
Man calm down shorty
(Nah you calm down, I ain't got shit to say to you man)
Man see that's why I don't even fuck wit'chu dawg
(Hollywood ass nigga, I don't fuck with YOU)
You be on that bullshit man
(Yeah man, well you better respect my muh'fuckin hustle)
Man you ain't the only one gotta hustle nigga (I told you once man)
You can't tell me shit! (You heard me) Aight now
 
[Chorus]
R-E-S-P-E-C-T, M-Y, H-U-S-T-L-E
Should respect this hustle, respect this hustle
Won't accept nuttin else so respect this hustle
I ain't in it for the fame, I ain't in it for the glory
I'm down to die for it, absolutely mandatory
Respect this hustle, respect this hustle
Won't accept nuttin else so respect this hustle - AY!
 
[Verse One]
These niggaz bitch-made, I'm gettin paid six ways
Six laid, shit's sprayed with lemonade with blades
Keep your mouth closed, you don't wanna get sprayed
Shoot you up your body, let it sunbathe six days
Kamikaze renegade, nah he never been afraid
Kept the trap hot enough to fry an egg in the shade
I ball 'til the day I'm lyin dead in the grave
I leave the Feds behind the wall cause I ain't get away
Chopper round the corner and a bushel with a brick of yay
A bust can happen any day, we out here trappin anyway
Gettin money's an addiction, damn what a nigga say?
I got a real bad condition if I ain't gettin paid
Hand over fist, well I miss it, gotta get busy
I know you see this car I drive and see the house that I live in
And figure this is enough (what nigga?) I want way mo'
Really this is Play-Doe, you set your sights way low
Had enough of the game, I don't know whether to stay or go
and different group of lames and suckas e'rywhere which way I go
(But nigga know you King, why you always gotta say it fo'?)
Cause they said I couldn't say it befo'
And I remember all it did was fuck my temper up mo', Doug and J know
I said I wear a crown, not a halo - sorry
Niggaz think they seein me but they so sorry
They fast but they ain't no Ferrari {*YOOM!*}
 
[Chorus]
 
[Verse Two]
Ay, don't you think you been pullin gats fussin cussin enough?
Round here braggin 'bout these niggaz you be bustin enough
Man look around, ain't nobody sufferin but her
You could beat a hundred cases, catch one and you fucked
(Man I get probation) Is you crazy? Pull a gun in the club
See how many folks and polices put you down in the club
If we gotta come with a slug, why we come to the club?
How much more of this shit you think we can sweep under the rug?
(Look, we already told them "I Told You So")
But all these niggaz speakin out who wouldn't spoke befo'
Don't take it personal, people wanna be close to folk
What you think the televisions and the posters fo'?
(Yeahhh man I'm claustrophobic though) Well you need to see a doctor for it
And I ain't jokin, you close Tip and you 'bout to blow it
Did you forgot about them nights in the cells, was you honest
(I dunno) When we was havin talks with God and you promised
if he made a way for you to be large, and you done it
Out the gate, "Urban Legend" went on to do numbers
Sold a mil', made "ATL", "King" first week five hundred
Won the Grammy's (but not the one that I wanted)
What about them eight figure deals and that other new money?
But ask yourself somethin, where the gun you got from me?
Keep it real
 
Talk about somethin other than yourself sometime (man)
Did you keep your promise partner? (Ay, just keep it real)
 
[Chorus]
 
[numerous ad libs to the end]