What's up? Let's go
Let's go, man (yo, girl, you heard that Dirty shit?)
Yo, Snoop Dogg
Yo, Dre (yeah, yeah, yeah, that nigga taking over)
Yo, Too $hort, E-40, and The motherfucking Click
Enough respect to the West coast
Dun, dun, dun
Yo, Ol' Dirty Bastard coming through
Know what I'm saying?
I got the East coast locked the fuck down (he taking over, that's his shit)
Know what I'm saying?
Hear my shit, nigga (Brooklyn Zu, Brooklyn Zu)
Dirty, Dirty, Dirty, Brooklyn

Shit is crazy real in the field
I watched niggas blood get spilled over five dollar bills
And major drug deals on the real
Seen a nigga get mills and his bitch get him killed
In this American dream to get some cream
You're owning a beam, and your face in magazines
12 o'clock maintains in the game
Bring the pain, the smokin' method, mane
It's not all about the fame, silly ass dames
Get a gold record and you change
And for the niggas selling cocaine, you're to blame
Black people lives ain't the same
And that's the tale in my hood
Niggas is up to no good
You better watch 'em in them hoods

I always thought living life was easy
Go to school, get a job, yo, it couldn't be me (be me)
So instead, I played my bed
My momma got fed
And now a nigga living with a dread (a dread)
My best fuckin friend, knew him since ten
Nigga fed me cream, let me whip the Benz (the Benz)
Houses all over Texas (Texas)
Lightning gold Lexus (Lexus)
He had enough respect to dress this (dress this)
Expensive Tim suits
Girl wearing fly Gucci boots (Gucci boots)
Put me on like Pook (Pook)
Every morning that I awake
Ten G's in my fuckin' face
Combination to the safe (combination to the safe)
Son runs our state
Carrying coke by the weight (weight)
Make 'em put pounds in the weed gate (weed gate)
And it's ran by Ol' Dirty (dirty)
12 O'Clock, my little brother, he keeps it dirty (dirty)

Fuck all that motherfucking drug selling shit
I wanna see some motherfucking lyrics
I wanna hear some motherfucking lyrics
What up nigga, what?
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha
Ha-ha
I got you, nigga

I'll rip mics on site, you know the type
New jack, this is my city like Wesley Snipes
Go fly a kite or somethin', make some muffins
I came up bad in the town like Charles Bronson
Knobs at your speaker and I'll do you for that reason (no you don't)
12 is no joke, I'll bring wreck through the seasons (no you don't, motherfucker)
All the men, killed ten, many more, but just when
That joker act, you can save for Jack Nicholson (what?)

One, two, and three, through your rap fatigue
And the MC world is a minor league
What you speak, you swear it's unique
Or just a peak physique of an old antique
Don't expect a project, then it's bound to freeze
Your whole head is stuck and stiff like Siamese
I never liked rhymes that's incomplete
Then again, obsolete
I shall repeat, there's an easy street
For niggas who earned
You learned, you sojourned
Then you returned
As an intelligent, positive messenger
Not an experiment negative Lucifer
With the jittling gloss of grafted skin
Nothing like spring sauce of the true origin
Who would score? The wizard of war
Caveman best friend was a god damn dinosaur
No more jungle-like living from the Blue Lagoon
It's not an Animal House, National Lampoon
If you understand the what, when, why, how
Are you fellas who exempt, or to disallow
A fresh MC that will knock you down
I get you dizzy, spellbound like a merry-go-round
While I'm freaking, shall I expose?
You take what they take, on some recompose
A fresh MC is totally unique
Even the Devil said I'm totally unique

Copyright: Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): Russell Jones