Z-Ro Lyrics

Album: Unknown

Dirty Work Lyrics

f/ Black Mike, Pharoah

 

 (Z-Ro talking) 

 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

 

 [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

 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

 

 (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

 Fuck 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 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

 

 (Chorus)

 

 [Z-Ro]

 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

 

 (Chorus - 2x)