Zay Lyve - Dirty

Aye
Naawwwl
I can still hear myself but but keep it rolling
Aye
Let me tell you bout that dirty
Where we was taught to never play
And as a jit if he try us you better splack em in his face
North Miami where we dodge DTs and under covers
Cause we scamming just to lay our head on the Versace covers
What you know about that dirty hit the jitney for a dollar
Yelling thank you so you can gon and stop em
Growing up was a problem my mama ain't even want me
When I'm out in lil Haiti I'm thugging out with my cousin
Let me tell you bout that dirty huh behind that fence
Got that boy got that girl got that loud for the scent
See my niggas moving hard too don't try to start foo
Shooting on 62nd nigga I do a part two
77 pull up nigga that's where we thug at
North Miami 146 that's where the love at
Up the road caught me charge I hadda shake back
Nigga testified and told em what kinda k I had
They say I'm crazy fuck that mask I came to kill
Hundred thousand in his stash and I heard he was moving pills
Older niggas tried to talk to me told a nigga to chill
But if them crackers come they better kill cause I ain't taking deals
I ain't sitting in no cell I ain't finna write no mail
So if I'm dropped then I'm posted in the trap somewhere in hell
Nigga what you doing what you mean I'm the man
That's how I felt at 18 just thumbing through 30 bands
Nigga gon and get yo fucking mind right
Better that choppa hit you up and leave you with a blind sight
Uncle growing cannabis smoking under the green light
Thank the lord met death well I only seen em twice
Look let me tell you how it really be
Hopping out in foreign sand bussing we on yo granny street
Some do the swishers preferably like the grabba leaf
Dade county when we be shooting look like a movie scene
Dirty we don't care about no felonies
See me flexing I hope them crackers remember me
Cause if I see his son then ima beat his ass
Fuck it mail em back to the house in a fucking garbage bag
Dirty we don't care about the fame
I remember mama was in the kitchen snorting on cane
We ain't have no bread they talk down on my name
Cause my shoes started talking but fuck it nigga made a change
I gotta dollar I made it happen
Me and Rizzy jumping outta cribs way before the plastic
When we was smoking square ain't have no where just to ash it
Cause if his mama had caught us then she ain't gon let us back in
I got that sack right hesitated to copped the pack
Cause I ain't know if I was finna get my money back
I was nervous the dope sell it self
So when I got my first ball nigga no help
Mama tried to take her time and keep me in school
But graduating wasn't something that I cared about doing
We was trying his finger licking and pick up a wells
Drop a check now you gon get a letter in ya mail

Written by:
I Aristide

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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