|
Mykill Miers - Straight Dirt lyrics
f/ A.G., Ghetto Dwellas (G.D.) Straight dirt (straight dirt) Halloween Part 74 (we see you, we see you) Myke Miers (yeah, Mykill Miers) G.D. (G.D. yo) A.G. (A.G. baby) .. Yeah y'all Myke Miers Uh, yo uh, throwin some dirt L.A., California (I see y'all, I see y'all, I see y'all!) [A.G.] It's A.G., legendary already, jewels is heavy Bet every penny, go against us you'll get buried Give the drummer some, watch these brothers come correct Take shit from none of them, make hits like Run and them From the Bronx where these nosy hoes be I rep New York like Pat Ewing, shine in Cali like Kobe Address every issue like my bitch do And drop bombs like Terry Nichols G.D. is the set to rep that make it official Wack niggaz with hot beats - I should take it and diss you My format is like makin a pistol Bust it and reload it, bitches suck it and deep throat it Rode the train on Elayne, we fucked, and we bolted You ain't gangster, I called his bluff, and he folded From the Bronx to Carson My niggaz wear braids and rock perms like Sharpton Either way the gauge'll blaze when I spark 'em Me and Myke Miers, tight like pliers And like Midas I got the touch And after the show I got to fuck, we dirty [Chorus: Mykill Miers] Aiyyo who want some get some The fo' of us we be all up in yo' shit son You actin like you can't get it and you get done It's G.D. and Myke Miers get yo' click hung Aiyyo you want some get some The fo' of us we be all up in yo' shit son You actin like you can't get it and you get done It's G.D. and Myke Miers in yo' system ("we get dirty") [Mykill Miers] Yo I'm the mad one with a magnum I blast some - and leave the rest to ransom The skills you have none, I have some, I have plenty You ask any, MC that goin against me and they'll tell you, "Dog you ain't even got a chance" My vocal tone alone leaves you in a trance Hypnotic, I gets it jumpin like hydraulics Keepin you high like chronic, nigga who want it? If you fronted you get haunted like October 31st I kill wannabe MC's with one fuckin verse And make 'em never pick up a mic again I'm frightenin, Myke Miers strikes again MC's bite like Tyson and, get suspended And it'll be a year before they fight again Then when asked if they'll fight again say they went through counselin so they could pick up a mic again Myke Miers and A.G., it's all gravy Out for them "Dead Presidents" like Jay-Z, yo [Chorus] [G.D. - D-Flow] Notice the pose by my DICK nigga The shit be realer than jail life Straight torture make a nigga yell twice I reminisce on dead peeps, as the time pass Instead of toastin it up, I break the wine glass As my nine blast for the lost soul I spit Colder than strip, Mo' is to sip and dough is to flip I heard a bird flock, flow is the shit Bitch you gotta fuck the crew cause you the ho in the clique Me and Myke Miers, choke niggaz who spite wires G.D. f'real about it, y'all niggaz be type quiet [G.D. - Party Arty] Y'all funny, twenty bars is car money Y'all hungry, but your skills is far from me Allah brung me, we get dirty but y'all bummy Clothes all bummy, nose all runny I hit you in the chest with this fo'-fo' money Fuck trickin, these pigeons get no dough from me Type to, murder your family, then plead insanity My man's and me whylin on Fantasy Island, we plan to be [Chorus] |
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Last added lyrics |
|---|
 Rather Ripped by Sonic Youth |
 Call Me Irresponsible by Michael Buble |
 Pure & Natural by T-Connection |
 Tomorrow and Yesterday by Samson |
 Twenty Four Seven by Tina Turner |
