(N)
People don't realize that we're all hustlers,
pimping dollars trying not to holler,
but pimping can be hard at times.
Especially in this cheesy rat race,
not everyone can come in first place,
or   second place
or   third  place
someone gotta come last,
someone gotta be poor as scratch,
missin' like Susie,
and down like Fufu,
Fufu the clown.

(Z)
Neva' try to be first
You'll only end up hurt
Pullin' on rich mugs shirt
Desperate for a high class skirt
Don't matter if dignity is shattered
All else is scattered
In this rat race for one
You'll fry in the sun
If you don't lose you've won
You'll soon find out that you're not the only one
From town to town
Playin' everyone's clown

 (N)
But these white and black taxis are always driving out of town,
carrying away pick-pocketeers who pick-pocketed my
brain,
so I lay low like a dumb fat cat
living off the remnants
of the Harlem Renaissance,
as shirt-wearers feel good for the very first time
peeping through my peep hole from the outside
but my thumb is blocking the view,
and I'm tired,
I need my thumb,
I can't eat with one thumb,
I can't hoop with one thumb
I can't f**k with one thumb,
feel me

(Z)
Fo' ev'ry woe that they give us
We got a gypsy ride to take us
To our destination> Destiny
Flowing like weeds over concrete
Sweet ghetto beats
Flowing
Flowing
In our sigh
Steppin' on cracks and lies
Feelin' our women's thighs
Get back man
Get back
You can't have it silly rab-bit
Who you goin' call
When we ghost bust ya'
Tricks are fo' bad ass kids
Yes sa'
Yes sa'
no mo' toast
Give me/us apple pie
Without the creme and dye
Pass us by!
We ain't too slow to bust a cap in yo' ride
We got fare to fly
No fear to dive from 30,000 feet on to your back side
Plant yo' foolish behind in the concrete
Fo' messin' with our mental discrete