Dirty Work
Quelle: Spotify
(Z-Ro prelude)
All you shirley ass niggas out here got the game fucked up
On this ol' friendly ass shit
Nigga, aint nothin friendly bout the mutha fuckin game
You understand me?
If you listen, I'ma tell you right
Open your mutha fuckin ears
Shit, it aint fair but somebody gotta do it
Know'im'sayin?
(Black Mike verse)
I came from underground, where my hood reside
Nothin left but the bad and ugly, cuz the good dun died
We tried to lay low, niggas wanna cross dem lines
So when I'm sayin so you getting bumped off this time
Fuck a throwaway, I'm lookin for the gun at your house
To kill your family for some shit they aint know nothin about
We runnin the South while other niggas runnin they mouth
If you smart, you'll take cover cuz we comin your route
Cuz when we ride you can best believe it's guns inside
How many times momma cried cuz her sons dun died?
I pull my nine out, all of my barrels are filed out
So the bullets that i bust, the feds don't find out
Which gun, which nigga, which finger point to the trigger man
Still well connected not worried bout who's the bigger man
Z-Ro, my nigga man
Phoaroah, the killa klan
I'm Black Mike, networked for life, aint no realer jam
(Z-Ro chorus)
We make sure the dirty work get done
Real gun properly mounted and weighs a ton
Scratch makers, nigga we killas, aggravated gorillas
Been pimpin in this bitch for skrilla
We make sure the dirty work get done
Real gun properly mounted and weighs a ton
Scratch makers, nigga we killas, puttin heads on pillows
Fuck around and weep like a willow, we cap peelers
(Pharoah verse)
King size killa creep in
Put these hoein haters sleep, murderin the kingpin
My composer, a soldier, you can call me One
When it's time to ride you know I'm ready to activate my gun
Straight head shots, toe tagged in the body bag
Thats the outcome you stuck with if I gotta blast
I'm comin to get you, put your punk ass out the picture
If theres a price on your head that means ima get richer
P-H-A-R-O-A-H
Now you know my mutha fuckin name, I never play fake
Easy does it, do it easy when I execute
Send a nigga at the dark side when my weapon shoot
Shoot again and realize i just made bond
With no evidence to be found I remain calm
Murder magician, I make a muthafucker disappear
Slip the clip in, open fire, and drip in here
(chorus)
(Z-Ro verse)
I put stitches in the chin of a son of a bitch nigga when he bump
Fuck runnin to the trunk for the pump, I'm already ready to dump
I been workin dirty, knockin busters for bein shirley
So I'm at your door cuz unlike James, you aint Worthy
Like a little ol' girly perpetrating a man
Dude we takin over this bitch and here to demonstrate demands
And bitch the down south gangsta R-A-P, nineteen ninety
Started with Street Military and K-A-T
We toe taggin, body baggin, saggin and braggin
Hit it up and laid it down, we slap shot and flipped the meat wagon
Some say we some son-of-a-guns
But as long as we one of the ones on top, haters smell it and runnin to cum
Tryna drop a dime on us or tryna take us out
After we deal with it, we rap about it and then it make us hot
Fuck your crime rate and murder rate
Rubberneckin in TRUEston, Texas
Boy we'll bump you off for tryna focus on a bird today
(chorus x2)---Lyrics submitted by HoustonHardHitta713.
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