Diary of a Hustler
By: Richard Ross aka Philo Tha Don
the diary of a huslter
karma kills my smile
dark clouds kidnap the sunshine
as i grind the next mile
i'm so stressed from the streets
so blessed on those beats
but of course i'm a mess
cause next hater carries heat
and of course they threaten me
restricted phone calls and warnings
talking bout "let me catch you slipping...
and i'll leave your mother mourning"
it all has me building confidence
in the wrong types of people
but then acting paranoid
when they want to act as though they're equal
it's difficult to ponder
over a shot of patron and a sip of bacardi
why did i even enter this world
if i don't really like to party
and then i remember the poverty
that introduced to me the struggle
until that dude down the block
taught me how to make my money double
but then i surpassed his knowledge
after i tripled my stack
getting money seven different ways
without sitting in the trap
but nobody ever told me
how this money could kill a friendship
that these cars could murder loyalty
and that jewelry erases family...
cause when those sirens caught up
cuffs tightened like a noose
suffocating but confident
until i realized the ugliest truth
three months later in a box
with everyone forgetting the the myth
but the myth was a reality
and this real life had me sick
c c n 3 0 4 8 9
b and b is what he yelled
walked by the officer grilling
turning my back from that hell
left the store in the cell
12-32 with the soups for a price
stepped back on the block
spitting twice as nice
scribing poetry three times as potent
with an attitude like "damn...
i'm getting daps from opponents"
dudes that swear it's love
but i felt the hate of silence
now as i destroy and rebuild
i'm filled with violence
but i can't give in to that
i'm just learning from mistakes
believing more in myself
and less in these fakes...
but one thing will always remain
i'm a hustler...
no matter what the hustle is...
it's in my blood.