featuring Castro Mag



* also appears on the _Butter_ Soundtrack and Mag's "Hustlaz Heaven"



[Mag] (Castro) "Car Wash sample"

"Hey!"

Butter.

"One of us! Right away!"

"Work"

Uh where all my hustlers?

(Where them thugs at?)

All my ballers.

What let's do it like this. (Get up!)

Uh what.

(Indiana Indiana!)

"Work"

Mag in this muth yo.

Killa Castro from Queens trigga Treach.

(New Jeru, Dirty Jerz.)



[Mag]

Well can you get it like I get it, I got to get my blood

Known for slangin yayo and part the lick with my thugs

Fuck you, fuck your crew fool and all that shit

Bitch, it's a new nigga on the premesis

"Work"

Ah, puttin it down like I knows to

What, splittin these hata's wigs like I'm supposed to

Whenever you, want to act the fool, and come and test

Get that ak slug through your vest

Forget your dog, get bucked

Wind up and see you with all the garbage stuck

Now you in the depths of Hell, feel like damn it ain't my lucky day

Never shoulda looked my way, motherfucker

Don't trust your bitch ass fool as far as I can thrust ya

Don't make no sudden moves fool and I won't have to bust ya

Trigga Treach he got his pistol do

We puttin in work from here to Russia fool

So what the fuck y'all here to do

"Work"

Huh, and it's on like that

Motherfucker and it's on like that

"I puts in work"

And it's on like that

Yo dog I hope you cleaned your strap

"Uh huh, 'cause I puts in work"



[Castro]

Fatal how the hood'll hate you, caught up in drama

Colors and ganja like black autototes for armor

Millies and macks never the same pocket

Kept his phillies and crack how the streets rock it

Switch em, be cases like he fathered the system

Organized block cinemas away from the prison

With souls, lost rows and so on

Fall victim to the streets and so much can go wrong

Rebels meet crumble and majesties for salaries

Out of towners and goose downers introduce pounders

A lay loot for power evil roots shoot through cowards

Lettin other niggas just regulate they hours

Coke or chronic, philly roll millie by his scrotum

Barrel x to g packs

Never got along with cops, like it was Brett Favre and D backs

It's how rap cats believe that

"Just puttin in work"

And it's on like that

Castro, you know it's on like that

"Huh huh huh huuuh work"

And it's on like that

Yeah y'all we gettin it on like that

"Puttin it in y'all, puttin it in y'all"



[Treach]

Check it, I get deep voice like Barry

All you keep, naw you keep

Forgot I got permit to carry

All you sleep

Look at me, his face I'll bury

I look at you and say that's what happens when cousins marry

"Work"

Hate that funk shit, don't show up

Tore up from the floor up

My gat's so fat it needs to loose weight like hold up

On the run huh, it might be bailin in a Bronco

I be layin low from Rocko

In a condo outside of Toronto

How I feel about y'all poppin shit

Like a constipated port a lot of noise but you ain't droppin shit

This is me here, it ain't no other man

Always into somebody's business like you was (?)

"Work"

Nigga I puts in like ten men

Kick up more dust than dirt

Drinkin more gin than Vin

Well see no El Nino or ghetto tsunami

Couldn't drop up on me so we got to fuck over Tommy

"I puts in work"

I puts in work, and it's on like that

Motherfucker with them snakes and rats

I puts in work

"Work"

And it's on like that

Hope you motherfuckers watch your back

'cause I puts in work

"Work"

"New Jerus y'all Dirty Jerz y'all"

"Work"

"Ah ow, Indiana comin on through"

"Work"

"Oh, what it mean y'all comin from Queens"

"Work"

"Hey, put it down for my town"

Writer : MOORE, FALONTE D/SUMPTER, KYRON A/WHITFIELD, N.
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group