[Chorus]
My hands stay dirty 'cause I play dirty
My hands stay dirty 'cause I play dirty
My hands stay dirty 'cause I play dirty
Termanology, Fizzy Wo, Ghost Styles P, Busta Rhymes
[Verse 1: Termanology]
It's the God I'm focused, I'm one of the hardest flowers
I open your heart with pokers and cover your car with roses
I'm one of the last poets, to science and math knowers
Combined with my clash flow, it's a crime that I'm passed over
I roll with the hardest soldiers, stay low when the Don approaches
I cover your heart and roast it and wait on your mama's sofa
I shoot up your daughter's stroller, I told you my heart is polar
Unload a barrage of coker and cover up the largest boulders
I'm from the law we known as the hood where they hardly sober
The holster to carry, the toaster is always on the shoulder
I'm out for the pot of gold, if you trip, leave body frozen
And I zip up you mighty goons, in the river your body goes
Don't make use the razor to show you my fruits of labor
Not even your crew could save you, you get in the booth I slay ya
Kicked out a housing, for flipping and wilding
It's the Puerto Rican kid with the guns that look Italian
[Verse 2: Lil' Fame]
Man hand me my motherfucking strap, FALL BACK!
I'm 'bout to run up on these niggas like OG Wax
And get it popping with my weapon in palm
I am the rawest footage you ever seen since the death of Saddam COME ON!
I still do it jumbo
Still gung-ho, my flow is a ticket to the gun show
Front row, Y'ALL KNOW! I should've been out
They askin me to slim down
Tell them bitches kick rocks, big niggas is in now
Marksmen regime and I'm down for the wig out
Kids starve the fuck out, WELCOME TO THE ROUGH HOUSE!
Yellow bus status since special ed had it made
Start a mosh pit, stampede barricade
CUT TO YOU THE SAGA, the saga of the Ville
Fuck niggas heads up like the barber of the ville
MO-P to the death, still 7:30
And I keep my hands dirty, cause I play dirty, NIGGA!
My hands stay dirty 'cause I play dirty
My hands stay dirty 'cause I play dirty
My hands stay dirty 'cause I play dirty
Termanology, Fizzy Wo, Ghost Styles P, Busta Rhymes
[Verse 1: Termanology]
It's the God I'm focused, I'm one of the hardest flowers
I open your heart with pokers and cover your car with roses
I'm one of the last poets, to science and math knowers
Combined with my clash flow, it's a crime that I'm passed over
I roll with the hardest soldiers, stay low when the Don approaches
I cover your heart and roast it and wait on your mama's sofa
I shoot up your daughter's stroller, I told you my heart is polar
Unload a barrage of coker and cover up the largest boulders
I'm from the law we known as the hood where they hardly sober
The holster to carry, the toaster is always on the shoulder
I'm out for the pot of gold, if you trip, leave body frozen
And I zip up you mighty goons, in the river your body goes
Don't make use the razor to show you my fruits of labor
Not even your crew could save you, you get in the booth I slay ya
Kicked out a housing, for flipping and wilding
It's the Puerto Rican kid with the guns that look Italian
[Verse 2: Lil' Fame]
Man hand me my motherfucking strap, FALL BACK!
I'm 'bout to run up on these niggas like OG Wax
And get it popping with my weapon in palm
I am the rawest footage you ever seen since the death of Saddam COME ON!
I still do it jumbo
Still gung-ho, my flow is a ticket to the gun show
Front row, Y'ALL KNOW! I should've been out
They askin me to slim down
Tell them bitches kick rocks, big niggas is in now
Marksmen regime and I'm down for the wig out
Kids starve the fuck out, WELCOME TO THE ROUGH HOUSE!
Yellow bus status since special ed had it made
Start a mosh pit, stampede barricade
CUT TO YOU THE SAGA, the saga of the Ville
Fuck niggas heads up like the barber of the ville
MO-P to the death, still 7:30
And I keep my hands dirty, cause I play dirty, NIGGA!
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