DIRTY! Songtext
von JPEGMAFIA
DIRTY! Songtext
Come in the bathroom
Backing up like I don′t give a fuck
Gotta move the bricks
Bands, so I could get the truck
What up with it, buddy?
South
Uh, dirty (dirty)
Money, I'ma make you look dirty
Poke it out
Funny how the world caught up with me (yeah)
Heard them plates in New York don′t fuck with me
Sheeple (sheeple)
Keep it transparent, y'all see-through
Help me out
Mama used to bump Grizzy, no Beatles
Big man tried to get seat from the Eagles
Karma
In L.A. with that blicky playing Contra
Nasty
You gon' meet the fist like Arthur (uh)
Lost Crew with the cops, I′m Lana
Two cig′s, Big Pun and Fat Joe, they twins
Pull it out, get to bummin' like Sims
And I don′t need 20 niggas to defense
Dirty!
Get low
Huh, get low
Uh, uh
Fuck!
Better have ten, nah, nah, nigga, we
Dawg, look at these niggas
Grind my teeth how they spit so much filler (for real)
Wannabe just to wanna be wiggas
Same wannabes wanna be killers, mhm
Weak-ass rhymes (weak), weak-ass lines (weak)
Same old synths, them weak-ass live (facts)
Fresh carpool, this lane all mine (uh)
Already lacked, can't nobody get by
Who you gon′ call when the trends all die? (Ayy)
Niggas follow, I been walkin' my path the whole time (yeah)
Shit hurts worse when you deep in the grind
Out on bail like ′Pac in the prime
Style so slutty, even you gotta try it (what else?)
My shit, yeah, big drum on the .9 (what else?)
When you spit subs, you give me your own time
And you can't get it back, niggas know I ain't lying
Huh
Huh
Backing up like I don′t give a fuck
Gotta move the bricks
Bands, so I could get the truck
What up with it, buddy?
South
Uh, dirty (dirty)
Money, I'ma make you look dirty
Poke it out
Funny how the world caught up with me (yeah)
Heard them plates in New York don′t fuck with me
Sheeple (sheeple)
Keep it transparent, y'all see-through
Help me out
Mama used to bump Grizzy, no Beatles
Big man tried to get seat from the Eagles
Karma
In L.A. with that blicky playing Contra
Nasty
You gon' meet the fist like Arthur (uh)
Lost Crew with the cops, I′m Lana
Two cig′s, Big Pun and Fat Joe, they twins
Pull it out, get to bummin' like Sims
And I don′t need 20 niggas to defense
Dirty!
Get low
Huh, get low
Uh, uh
Fuck!
Better have ten, nah, nah, nigga, we
Dawg, look at these niggas
Grind my teeth how they spit so much filler (for real)
Wannabe just to wanna be wiggas
Same wannabes wanna be killers, mhm
Weak-ass rhymes (weak), weak-ass lines (weak)
Same old synths, them weak-ass live (facts)
Fresh carpool, this lane all mine (uh)
Already lacked, can't nobody get by
Who you gon′ call when the trends all die? (Ayy)
Niggas follow, I been walkin' my path the whole time (yeah)
Shit hurts worse when you deep in the grind
Out on bail like ′Pac in the prime
Style so slutty, even you gotta try it (what else?)
My shit, yeah, big drum on the .9 (what else?)
When you spit subs, you give me your own time
And you can't get it back, niggas know I ain't lying
Huh
Huh
Writer(s): Barrington Hendricks Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com