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Track: Everyday Hustle
Artist: Future
Album: WE DON'T TRUST YOU

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Artist Bio

Future Image

Name: Future
Spotify Genres: rap
Followers: 21,554,196
Popularity:

92/100

Biography

Nayvadius DeMun Wilburn was born on November 20, 1983 in Atlanta, Georgia. He began using his stage name while performing as one of the members of the musical collective The [a=Dungeon Family], where he was nicknamed "The Future". His first cousin, record producer, and Dungeon Family member [a=Rico Wade], encouraged him to sharpen his writing skills and pursue a career as a rapper. He attended Columbia High School. Future voices his praise of Wade's musical influence and instruction, calling him the "mastermind" behind his sound.

Source: Discogs

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Release: Future (4) & Metro Boomin - We Dont Trust You
Year: 2024
Genres: Hip Hop
Styles: Trap, Gangsta

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Source: MusicBrainz

LYRICS

Everyday hustle like William
Yeah
Everyday hustle like William, I'm chargin' a chicken just for the verse, yeah
I get in that kitchen, I cook, go to work, I go berserk, yeah
Go out and get it, secure the city, can't sink like the Titanic
Bitch know I'm a Freeband bandit
This paper comin' to me twenty-four hours, I can't go to sleep
I know the power of a dollar, tote fifty rounds at least
Uh, she know I get money, she know (Know that shit)
Soon as I up the score
Just like double O
Stay down with me or let me go
Start the whip, I just lay closе
And start me to whip up the floor
She with mе, she down like the bros
Holdin' me down like the chosen one
Early in the morning (Go)
Late up at night (Go)
Just be precise (Just be precise)
Got a pack for the flight (Got a pack)
All I took was a nina (All I took)
I show up in a beamer (I showed up)
Smackin' cougars like Trina (Smackin', smackin')
Water flow, Aquafina (Water)
Sing to me like Tina (Sing to me)
Sippin' dope out the liter
Meditation off the kush (Kush)
Drinkin' Hi-Tech and Trish
New baguette, yo, check the 'fits out
Soon as the bitch check the Ritz out
You down or you scared? (Scared)
I knew she was just 'bout to say it (Just 'bout to say it)
I break her a lil' bread
Don't let that shit go to your head

Huh
Biggest
(Maybach Music)

Goin' broke, niggas in a panic
Sellin' dope, nigga send a pallet
Young killers, city full of talent
You testified, hate to see it happen
New bitch, never meet the parents
Triple beam, I'ma keep it balanced
Built a bunker real deep in Tampa
Got two hundred cars, haters screamin', "Damn it"
Baby mama still the biggest opp
Team of shooters just to keep it locked
Rolls-Royce, you can keep the top
Bag of old money, love to see it rot
Yellow bitch, better keep her pampered
Luther Campbell, I'm the new example
Metro Boomin, time to cue the sample
Niggas movin' bricks, then you can use the Phantom
Black jet, I just flew to Texas
Sippin' Tuss', mama can't accept it
Never seen me on ketamine, but for the real team, I can win a gamble
In the cell on the cell phone
How you sellin' dope when it smell wrong?

Yeah
Woah, woah
Yeah, yeah, yeah

Fightin' for your life, spin by the hospital
Bare-faced just like I'm lil' Critter
Body snatchers, wig splitters, cap peelers, gravediggers, snake niggas
Ain't nobody safe, nigga
Meet me at the nearest coke spot
Middle of the slums, standin' at the boat dock
Loadin' up the cash, move it in the U-Haul
Went inside my bag, went and took a roof off
Crash dummy, goin' retarded, spendin' cash on it
Smashin' in a Demon, still'll smash a European
Gold-diggin' bitches, you can't tell a nigga shit
He just got his first wish, can't tell these lil' niggas shit
Tryna put him on some game, you better put him on a hit
Livin' in the trenches, it's survival of the fittest
Thirty milligrams, niggas rather take the fent'
Niggas got it out the mud, it's codeine when you piss
Drop a brick in the toilet, he ain't talkin' 'bout shit
Drop a brick in the toilet, he ain't talkin' 'bout shit

That shit don't pop in the hood, man
You talkin' about the grimy nigga in the hood?
I don't know what lil', um, supposed to be hood you from
But in the real hood, in America, that shit don't fly, we don't listen to that bullshit, son