So dirty.
Dirty South nigga.
So dirty.
Second bitch.
So dirty.
So dirty.
So dirty.
I'm a rapper, who's so good, I bring the pain every day, know that, I'm hearing niggas around my window, graduated from A to A, now my voodoo guys turn great, they say, the only way I can be funky is for stank.
For weeks and free breaks, till I'm blue and geeked, I told on out the fleet, but I'm back in the hippie thang, switching lines, claiming true, like a slug of payoffs.
That's the history.
And this mail.
I'm off the scale.
Hands off.
It's the third rail.
I'm giving you hell.
A new jail for females in Rockdale.
Overnight claspings leaving traces of gunpowder and shells.
Where did we fail?
As parents, the schools were sold.
Now we're zero tolerance for my kids' homes.
Outro Music
Cool.
So good.
with my foot and both hands sat behind my back on a bad day I put away my toys cause I ain't got time to play games
With these jokers trying to trump me up.
I need honor to be the boss.
So you tell me them seniors I thought in the hole was in vain.
I beg to differ, man.
Did everything I could to keep them big and in power.
But I still find myself in the belly of the beast.
Because I'm a 70s nigga.
And I don't turn up off the cheap thoughts of crooked police.
Come on.
Just like his bombs over Baghdad Wasn't do the same thing to me
And whoever want to talk revolution takes his chance.
Extra Q is three, but the prisoners still want to be a professional criminal.
TV and radio sending messages that be subliminal.
Hot telly, hot telly, hot telly, hot telly, hot telly, hot telly, hot telly, hot telly.
So good.
I sound like a Hebrew Israelite.
In the darkest night, I walk by faith, not by sight Cause looks are deceiving Believing half of what I'm seeing And none of what I'm hearing
Kujo couldn't tell off, he ain't as crock as he used to be.
He done went soft like little biscuits ever since he got married.
He don't fuck with bitches, he been through gospel music cause he too religious.
I was talking about Yahweh and proper scripture.
We ain't there yet, nigga.
We still toting pistols, chasing triples.
I've been there, I've done that.
But it was more to life than just trapping and frapping.
But I can't tell a nigga nothing.
Because I'm just as guilty.
Approaching the throne of grace.
Thank you for mercy.
Even though I ain't worthy.
So could it.
Dirty South nigga.
So could it.
Stacking Bixbilla.
So could it.
Could be Motrilla.
So could it.
But she ain't Bixbilla.
So good.
So we can go.
