Dirty Work lyrics

Artist  : Z-ro 
Song : Dirty Work



 Send "Dirty Work" Ringtone to your Cell 

 feat. Black Mike, Pharoah
(Z-Ro talking)  
All you sure as* niggas out here, got the game
f**ked up
All this old friendly as* shit, nigga
Ain't nothing friendly about the motherf**king
game
You understand me, if you listen I'ma tell you
right
Open your motherf**king ears
Shit, it ain't fair but somebody got to do it,
knowI'msaying

[Black Mike]
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
f**k a throw away, I'm looking for the gun in
your house
To kill your family for some sh*t 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

(Chorus)
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
f**k around and weep like a willow, we cap
peelers

[Pharoah]
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 as* 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 motherf**king 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 motherf**ker
disappear
Slip the clip in, open fire then dripping him

(Chorus)

[Z-Ro]
I put stitches in the general son of a bit*h
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 bit*h and here to
demonstrate demands
And bit*h 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
f**k your crime rate and murder rate, running up
on Houston Texas
Well it be f**k y'all for trying to funk us on a
burning day

(Chorus - 2x)