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The Stroll
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A Hustler's anthem. This one's for the street team. Count Down stand up!
mak thrillz countdown generals tambo the street team
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.::Members::. .. Thrillz .. Tambo .. Mak .. Awdassity ..
Song Info
Genre
Hip-Hop • Hip Hop General
Charts
Peak #851
Peak in subgenre #408
Author
TM the General
Uploaded
May 16, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 4.1 MB • 128 kbps • 4:29
Story behind the song
shits real...and every now and then life has to remind you of that. This song was written during a period where life was testing my strength. I'm sure most of yall can relate.
Lyrics
My dough…gotta get my dough// So I’ma hit the stroll// Gotta hit Pablo for them keyz of blow// Gotta hit the stroll// Gotta get my dough// So I’ma hit the stroll// Gotta hit Pablo for them keyz of blow// Gotta hit the stroll// I’ma hustle till I’m flyin jets, all my workers ride in sets// Not frontin, we chop onions...call us the iron chefs// Moms like why I sell drugs if I know I am blessed// She was cryin stressed...and I was high depressed// So I put crime to rest...and gave the rhymes a test// Tamb born only to serve fiends? Fam I protest// Wit lines I’m the best, lines of white and lines of hype// You can try to fight but its comin...that blinding light// I seen niggas start to post up wit O’s tucked// Wrists getting frozed up cuz like Dunkin they dough nuts// And so I spied the scene...got out to find a team// Told em no one's ever born hustlin it’s an acquired gene// They asked me how I knew...and I replied wit ease// I promise if you go look for white you’ll find the green// And it’ll move wit a flow poison like ivy leaves// Cuz the coke from Columbia...call it Ivy League// My dough…gotta get my dough// So I’ma hit the stroll// Gotta hit Pablo for them keyz of blow// Gotta hit the stroll// Gotta get my dough// So I’ma hit the stroll// Gotta hit Pablo for them keyz of blow// Gotta hit the stroll// My bars scar wit ease…yall not hard as me// My block hot…walk through here and char ya feet// Talk is cheap the Larkin speak...spark or sleep// Cause I keep the pump on my side like a car on E// Sorry mom, I couldn’t ever be the son that you wanted// How can I stop when these niggas is buyin halves for a hunned// Strapped like who want it? Leave a nigga burned up and mangled// Sayin you fly? I would be too if I got turned to a angel// Juvelnile murdered and strangled is what the papers read// Cops sellin dro? You can believe they lace the weed// Herb wit a trace of E, plus you know they basin C// Takin all minorities on corners…mistakingly?// Nah I can’t belive that holmes…just sounds far from the truth// Leave vital organs on the bench…keep my heart in the booth// Cuz between those who rat to cops, and thugs who blast for rocks// I feel like fleein far...I’m seein stars like an astronaut// My dough…gotta get my dough// So I’ma hit the stroll// Gotta hit Pablo for them keyz of blow// Gotta hit the stroll// Gotta get my dough// So I’ma hit the stroll// Gotta hit Pablo for them keyz of blow// Gotta hit the stroll//
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