Nipsey Hussle – Can’t Spell Success (ft. Cuzzy Capone) (Audio, Lyrics)

Throwback to the late Nipsey Hussle’s “Can’t Spell Success” single featuring Cuzzy Capone. Listen, stream, buy, mp3 download and read the lyrics to the song produced by Mike & Keys, MyGuyMars.

Nipsey Hussle Can’t Spell Success

Nipsey Hussle – Can’t Spell Success (ft. Cuzzy Capone) (prod. Mike & Keys, MyGuyMars)

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Nipsey Hussle]
Fuck high school I’m trying find a lick
Can’t spell success, but I can buy a Six
Kicked me out the house, and told them they can split
Moved off of 60th, and on to 5th
Stood in front of Nix and sold 200 nicks
Drop it on the hood, by some scandolous crips
Bought my first Cutlass, eyes on my tip
30 in the .40 incase you wanna trip
Blacc Sam told me, Hussle, that’s 200 cent
It was when I knew the world was mine without a fucking blimp
Mostly 50s, 20’s and a couple 10’s
Moms counted with us, then she got a Benz

[Verse 2: Cuzzy Capone]
Thanks to my mother, both my aunties and my grandma
God bless you, cause I know I was a handful
The foundation, I was running through the sandbox
With the growing pains, but the love never ran out
Became a man watching uncle Reg’ and grandpa
Corey taught me how to squabble with my head up
He told me, you will stop losing when you’re fed up
Show me how to get my own fucking handout
Where I’m at, niggas die walking to the corner store
Instead of progress, candles burn and the Remy pours
Keep an extra set of eyes if you’re getting yours
Desert Eagle shells flying straight through them hemi doors
And back at Charlie’s with the cavi when I hug floors
Left Slip rocks, wanting to be drug lord
At Penny Pinches used to hustle to the crack of dawn
If you ain’t tryna get the money, what you in it for?
What you in it for?
I’m trynna get the dough (Cash!)
Count me up
Stay on the lot

[Verse 3: Nipsey Hussle]
Money, power and respect for the chosen few
Came through on low pros now they know to shoot
Nineteen, fuck rap, I’m the local truth
Me and Hub had the Alpinas, we the only two
Promote the gang, live and die for my rollie chain
Rich, gang banging music, I know my lane
Curb servin’ off the corner was a protege
Pop the trunk and I’m manifesting my mobile ways
Real Estate, repossessed and do you know the pain?
Brodie in the state, I’m on the block quarter ounce of ‘caine
Life cycles and circles that bubble into rage
Turn to self-destructive behavior, somebody light some sage