H-o-s-t-l-e

Yo yo, yo
Woke up in tha morning and my eggs was part
Turned on tha boob toob saw tha million man march
Tha cops in dc, had to play scared
Gotta a, warn in plans looking at tha quaters of france
Ants in my pants so I dips in tha door
Picked up tha keys, caught a telephone call
She yelling bones in my sounds swell
I'm like why can't, a brother can't rise up
All I'm hearing is clobbers, hung up
Lighted some butter, wu tighten my gutter
Shouted lover, to those hungry
Put holes in they clothes
Bitch niggas throwing weak shit in tha game
On tha streets, smoking dough and leak on tha heap

[chorus]
H-o-s-t-y-l-e
(tha drug pushers and face mushers)
Those them types that fuck wit me
(throw ya henny in tha sky)
H-o-s-t-y-l-e
(tha bread winners, tha money getters)
Those them types that fuck wit me
(lets get this m-o-n-e-y)
H-o-s-t-y-l-e
(tha henny guzzelers, and tha henny huzzelers)
Those them types that fuck wit me
(this is serious b-i)
H-o-s-t-y-l-e
(tha thug chicks who loved it)
Those them types that fuck wit me
(lets get this money till we die)