| I’m about two an' a quarter from rockin' the bird
|
| An' about a G short from choppin' the third
|
| Now I’m sittin' at the light with ten pounds of herb
|
| Uh oh, there they go, the Red Dogs swerve
|
| Jumped out, ‽Man, damn, they got nerveâ€
|
| Got the hell on, dropped everythin' includin' my word
|
| Now it’s off through the woods we go, here we go
|
| Tossin' the greens an' blow, oh no
|
| Dippin' through the trails, runnin' from twelve
|
| Everybody gotta lay low
|
| Escape routes major, elite street rollers
|
| Shit, we doper than cola, straight from Ayatollah
|
| A Town heat strokers, flamin' like the Devil’s poker
|
| Two of the best wit it, hot shit, we’ll roast it
|
| If it’s beef, I’ll choke ya an' leave you for the vultures
|
| Or we can keep it cool, playboy an' I’ll toast ya
|
| Dirt work, nigga, we don’t play
|
| I got a couple on the tool an' a few on the way
|
| Dirt work, nigga, we don’t play
|
| I got a couple on the tool an' a few on the way
|
| Well it’s the rippinest, wickedest MC
|
| Bustin' hard up out the ginseng
|
| Tell more dope stories than a damn dope house dope fiend
|
| Fuck the police, you know me
|
| These hoes blow me slowly, seems like they owe me
|
| Show me the dope, don’t worry about the cash
|
| Or your girlfriend’s gonna be lonely, homey
|
| These rich an' these vegetables spinnin' bony
|
| Don’t make me open my book bag an' you underscalin' on me
|
| You understand me, Tony
|
| You look like you wanna go on a boat
|
| But you know I’ll leave you bloatin' or floatin'
|
| Like sailboats an' LTD’s, private, please
|
| I’m the nigga that earned his street stripes
|
| An' they’ve seen me in the Source Magazine
|
| So you can’t even pass me three mikes
|
| You get three strikes an' about a half of clip of bullets
|
| So run it an' we can go on an' get our little prices up
|
| An' act like we was on that Teen Summit
|
| Dirt work, nigga, we don’t play
|
| I got a couple on the tool an' a few on the way
|
| Dirt work, nigga, we don’t play
|
| I got a couple on the tool an' a few on the way
|
| I’m about a four an' a half into workin' these slabs
|
| An' about a hundred away from back in the lab
|
| Now I done bust the next batch down an' my face lookin' drab
|
| Uh oh, yep, this nigga done served me some bab
|
| Me sad? |
| Naw, mad
|
| Quick to bust your ass
|
| Playin' around wit a hustler’s cash?
|
| They’ll find ya stankin' in the trash
|
| An' escape wit your 'Billy Jean' an' 'Thriller' 'cause I’m 'Bad'
|
| Who dat, them niggas wit the juice pack, you thought you had?
|
| Naw, Dad, I’m glad my niggas keep a few thangs, wit a few mags
|
| Down to toe tag, drop bags, switch tags an' haul ass
|
| Smash till we out of gas, blast only if we gotta blast
|
| Turn sunny days into an overcast
|
| Abusive to the under class, when my tongue lash
|
| An' I mash out wit OutKast
|
| Dirt work, nigga, we don’t play
|
| I got a couple on the tool an' a few on the way
|
| Dirt work, nigga, we don’t play
|
| I got a couple on the tool an' a few on the way
|
| Dirt work, nigga, we don’t play
|
| I got a couple on the tool an' a few on the way
|
| Dirt work, nigga, we don’t play
|
| I got a couple on the tool an' a few on the way
|
| Dirt work, nigga, we don’t play
|
| I got a couple on the tool an' a few on the way
|
| Dirt work, nigga, we don’t play
|
| I got a couple on the tool an' a few on the way |