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Slimm Calhoun - Dirt Work lyrics
f/ Big Boi (OutKast) * send corrections to the typist [Slimm] I'm about two and a quarter from rocking the bird And about a G short from choppin' the third Now I'm sitting at the light with ten pounds of herb Uh oh, there they go, the Red Dogs swerve Jumped out, "Man, damn, they got nerve." Got the hell on, dropped everything including my word Now it's off through the woods we go, here we go Tossing the greens and blow, oh no! Dipping through the trails, running from twelve Everybody gotta lay low, shhhhhh! Escape routes major, elite street rollers Shit, we doper than cola, straight from Ayatollah A-Town heat strokers, flaming like the devils poker Two of the best wit it, hot shit, we'll roast ya If it's beef I'll choke ya and leave you for the vultures Or we can keep it cool playboy and I'll toast ya [Hook] Dirt work, nigga we don't play I got a couple on the tool and a few on the way (repeat) [Big Boi] 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 and these vegetables feeling bony Don't make me open my book bag and you under scaling on me You understand me Tony, you look like you wanna go on a boat But you know I'll leave you bloating or floating Like sailboats and LTD's. Private, please I'm the nigga that earned his street stripes And they've seen me in the Source Magazine so you can't even pass me three mikes You get three strikes and about a half of clip of bullets, so run it And we can go on and get our little prices up And act like we was on that Teen Summit (Hook) [Slimm] I'm about a four and a half into working these slabs And about a hundred away from back in the lab Now I done bust the next batch down and my face looking drab Uh oh, yep, this nigga done served me some bab Me sad? Naw, mad. Quick to bust your ass Playing around wit a hustler's cash, they'll find ya stankin in the trash And escape wit your Billy Jean and 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, and 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 And I mash out wit OutKast.Yeah...! (Hook x3 to fade) |
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