Dirty Work-Z-RO

Dirty Work - Z-RO (Z-Ro prelude) All you shirley a** niggas out here got the game f**ked up On this ol' friendly a** sh*t Ni**a, aint nothin friendly bout the mutha f**kin game You understand me? If you listen, I'ma tell you right Open your mutha f**kin ears Sh*t, it aint fair but somebody gotta do it Know'im'sayin? (Black Mike verse) I came from underground, where my hood reside Nothin left but the bad and ugly, cuz the good dun died We tried to lay low, niggas wanna cross dem lines So when I'm sayin so you getting bumped off this time F**k a throwaway, I'm lookin for the gun at your house To kill your family for some sh*t they aint know nothin about We runnin the South while other niggas runnin they mouth If you smart, you'll take cover cuz we comin your route Cuz when we ride you can best believe it's guns inside How many times momma cried cuz her sons dun died? I pull my nine out, all of my barrels are filed out So the bullets that i bust, the feds don't find out Which gun, which ni**a, which finger point to the trigger man Still well connected not worried bout who's the bigger man Z-Ro, my ni**a man Phoaroah, the killa klan I'm Black Mike, networked for life, aint no realer jam (Z-Ro chorus) We make sure the dirty work get done Real gun properly mounted and weighs a ton Scratch makers, ni**a we killas, aggravated gorillas Been pimpin in this b**ch for skrilla We make sure the dirty work get done Real gun properly mounted and weighs a ton Scratch makers, ni**a we killas, puttin heads on pillows F**k around and weep like a willow, we cap peelers (Pharoah verse) King size killa creep in Put these hoein haters sleep, murderin the 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 the body bag Thats the outcome you stuck with if I gotta blast I'm comin to get you, put your punk a** out the picture If theres a price on your head that means ima get richer P-H-A-R-O-A-H Now you know my mutha f**kin name, I never play fake Easy does it, do it easy when I execute Send a ni**a at the dark side when my weapon shoot Shoot again and realize i just made bond With no evidence to be found I remain calm Murder magician, I make a muthaf**ker disappear Slip the clip in, open fire, and drip in here (chorus) (Z-Ro verse) I put stitches in the chin of a son of a b**ch ni**a when he bump F**k runnin to the trunk for the pump, I'm already ready to dump I been workin dirty, knockin busters for bein shirley So I'm at your door cuz unlike James, you aint Worthy Like a little ol' girly perpetrating a man Dude we takin over this b**ch and here to demonstrate demands And b**ch the down south gangsta R-A-P, nineteen ninety Started with Street Military and K-A-T We toe taggin, body baggin, saggin and braggin Hit it up and laid it down, we slap shot and flipped the meat wagon Some say we some son-of-a-guns But as long as we one of the ones on top, haters smell it and runnin to cum Tryna drop a dime on us or tryna take us out After we deal with it, we rap about it and then it make us hot F**k your crime rate and murder rate Rubberneckin in TRUEston, Texas Boy we'll bump you off for tryna focus on a bird today (chorus x2)