| All you sure ass niggas out here, got the game fucked up
|
| All this old friendly ass shit, nigga
|
| Ain’t nothing friendly about the motherfucking game
|
| You understand me, if you listen I’ma tell you right
|
| Open your motherfucking ears
|
| Shit, it ain’t fair but somebody got to do it, knowI’msaying
|
| I came from underground, where my hood resigned
|
| Nothing left but the bad and ugly cause the good done died
|
| We tried laying low niggas want to cross them lines
|
| So when I’m saying so you getting bumped off this time
|
| Fuck a throw away, I’m looking for the gun in your house
|
| To kill your family for some shit they ain’t know nothing about
|
| We running the south, while other niggas running they mouth
|
| If you smart, you’ll take cover cause we come in your route
|
| Cause when we ride you could best believe there’s guns in sight
|
| How many times mama cried cause her sons done died
|
| I pull my nine out, all of my barrels are fouled out
|
| So the bullets that I bust the feds don’t find out
|
| Which gun, which nigga, which figga points to the trigger man
|
| Still well connected not worried about who’s the bigger man
|
| Z-Ro, my nigga man, Pharoah, the Killa Klan
|
| I’m Black Mike, Network for life, ain’t no realer jam
|
| We make sure the dirty work get done
|
| Real gun, popping them although it weighs a ton
|
| Scratch makers, nigga we killers
|
| Aggravated guerillas, been pimping in this bicth for scrilla
|
| We make sure the dirty work get done
|
| Real gun, popping them although it weighs a ton
|
| Scratch makers, nigga we killers
|
| Putting heads on pillows
|
| Fuck around and weep like a willow, we cap peelers
|
| King shots, killer greed penn, money hard
|
| Nigga to sleep, murdering a 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 a body bag
|
| And the outcome you stuck with, if I got to blast
|
| I’m coming to get you, pull your punk ass out the picture
|
| And fix the braids on your head, that means I’ma get richer
|
| P-H-A-R-O-A-H, now you know
|
| My motherfucking name I never play fake
|
| Easy does it, do it easy when I execute
|
| To that nigga and the darkside when my weapon shoot
|
| Shoot again and feel like I just made boy
|
| With no evidence, to be found I remain calm
|
| Murdering edition, I make a motherfucker disappear
|
| Slip the clip in, open fire then dripping him
|
| I put stitches in the general son of a bitch nigga when he bump up
|
| Running to the trunk for the pump, I’m already ready to dump
|
| I’ve been working dirty, knocking busters for being surety
|
| So I’m at your dome cussing like James, you ain’t worthy
|
| Like a little old girly perpetrating a man
|
| Dude we taking over this bitch and here to demonstrate demands
|
| And bitch the down south gangsta R-A-P, 1990
|
| Started with Street Military and K-A-G
|
| We toe tagging, body bagging, sagging and bragging
|
| Weed it up inflate it down, you damn shot and flipped the meat wagon
|
| So save me some son of a guns, when it’s over
|
| We one of the ones on the top, haters smell it and running to come
|
| Trying to drop a dime on us, or trying to 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, running up on Houston Texas
|
| Well it be fuck y’all for trying to funk us on a burning day |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Dirty Work (feat. Black Mike & Pharoah of Street Military), artist - Z-Ro. Album song Z-ro, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп