Eric Boyd wrote:
> I am also a non-music person,
> which is to say I don't collect music, or listen to it at every
> opportunity, as everyone else does. I prefer silence to almost all
> forms of music, although I do enjoy reading the lyrics of well written
> songs.
Here's one about a mind virus. It's called New Jack Hustler, and it's by Ice-T.
New Jack Hustler
Hustler, word, I pull the trigger long,
Grit my teeth,
Spray till every nigga's gone.
Got my block sewn, armored dope spots,
Last thing I sweat's a sucka punk cop.
Move like a king when I roll, Hops,
You try to flex, bang,
Another nigga drops.
You gotta deal with this,
Cause there's no way out,
Why? Cash money ain't never gonna play out.
I got nuthin' to lose, much to gain,
In my brain, I gotta capitalist migraine,
Gotta get paid tonight,
To keep my hustle right,
Quick when I speak, check my bitch,
Keep my game tight,
So many hos on my jock,
Think I'm a movie star,
Nineteen, I got a fifty thousand dollar car,
Go to school? I ain't goin' for it.
Kiss my ass, bust the cork on the Moet.
Cause I don't wanna hear that crap,
Why? I rather be a New Jack-----------Hustler
H-U-S-T-L-E-R HUSTLER
(Kid drop in)
Yo man you know what I'm sayin?
You got it goin' on my man,
I like how it's goin' down.
You got the fly cars, the girls, the jewels.
Look at that ring right there.
I know it's real, it's gotta be real.
Man you the flyest nigga I seen in my life!
Yo man, I just wanna roll with you man,
How can I be down?
What's up? You say you wanna be down?
Ease back, or muthafucker get beat down.
Out my face, fool I'm the illest,
Bullet proof, I die harder than Bruce Willis.
Got my crew in effect, I bought em new Jags,
So much cash, gotta keep in Hefty bags.
All I think about is keys and G's,
Imagine that, me workin' at Mickey D's.
That's a joke, cause I'm never gonna be broke,
When I die, there'll be bullets and gun smoke.
You don't like my life style? Fuck you!
I'm rollin' with the New Jack Crew.
And I'm a hustler.
H-U-S-T-L-E-R HUSTLER
Here I come, so you better break North,
As I stride,
My gold chains glide back and forth.
I care nothin 'bout you, and that's evident,
All I love, is my dope and dead presidents.
Sound crazy? Well it isn't.
The ends justifies the means,
That's the system.
I learned that in school, then I dropped out,
Hit the streets, checked a grip,
And now I got clout.
I had nothin', and I wanted it,
You had everything, and faunted it.
Turned the needy into the greedy,
With cocaine, my success came speedy.
Got me twisted, jammed into a paradox,
Every dollar I get, another brother drops.
Maybe that's the plan,
And I don't understand,
Goddamn---------you got me skinkin' in quicksand.
But since I don't know,
And I never learned,
I gotta get paid, I got money to earn.
With my posse, out on the ave,
Bump my sounds, crack a forty and laugh.
Cool out, and watch my new Benz gleam,
Is this a Nightmare? Or the American dream?
So think twice, if you're comin' down my block,
You wanna journey through Hell?
Well shit gets hot, pregnant teens,
Children's screams,
Life is weighed on the scales of a triple beam.
You don't come here much,
And you better not,
Wrong move, (bang) ambulance cot.
I gotta get more money than you got,
So what, if some muthafucker gets shot.
That's how the game is played,
Another brother slayed, the wound is deep,
(But) you're givin' us an Bandaid.
My education's low, but I got long dough,
Raised like pit bull, my heart pumps nitro.
Sleep on silk, lie like a politician,
My uzi's my best friend, cold as mortician.
Lock me up, that's genocidal catastrophe,
There'll be another one after me!!!
A hustler.
H-U-S-T-L-E-R HUSTLER