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    Slimm Calhoun / Lyrics

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    "Dirt Work" Lyrics

    Slimm Calhoun feat. Big Boi

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    I'm about two and a quarter from rocking the bird
    And about a G short from choppin' the third
    Now I'm sitting at the light with ten pounds of herb
    Uh oh, there they go, the Red Dogs swerve

    Jumped out, "Man, damn, they got nerve."
    Got the hell on, dropped everything including my word
    Now it's off through the woods we go, here we go
    Tossing the greens and blow, oh no!

    Dipping through the trails, running from twelve
    Everybody gotta lay low, shhhhhh!
    Escape routes major, elite street rollers
    Shit, we doper than cola, straight from Ayatollah

    A-Town heat strokers, flaming like the devils poker
    Two of the best wit it, hot shit, we'll roast ya
    If it's beef I'll choke ya and leave you for the vultures
    Or we can keep it cool playboy and I'll toast ya

    [Hook: x 2]
    Dirt work, nigga we don't play
    I got a couple on the tool and a few on the way

    [Big Boi]
    Well it's the rippinest, wickedest MC, bustin hard up out the ginseng
    Tell more dope stories than a damn dope house dope fiend
    Fuck the police, you know me
    These hoes blow me slowly, seems like they owe me

    Show me the dope don't worry about the cash
    Or your girlfriend's gonna be lonely, homey
    These rich and these vegetables feeling bony
    Don't make me open my book bag and you under scaling on me

    You understand me Tony, you look like you want to go on a boat
    But you know I'll leave you bloating or floating
    Like sailboats and LTD's. Private, please
    I'm the nigga that earned his street stripes

    And they've seen me in the Source Magazine
    so you can't even pass me three mikes
    You get three strikes and about a half of clip of bullets, so run it
    And we can go on and get our little prices up
    And act like we was on that Teen Summit


    I'm about a four and a half into working these slabs
    And about a hundred away from back in the lab
    Now I done bust the next batch down and my face looking drab
    Uh oh, yep, this nigga done served me some bab

    Me sad? Naw, mad. Quick to bust your ass
    Playing around wit a hustler's cash, they'll find ya stankin in the trash
    And escape wit your Billy Jean and thriller, cause I'm bad
    Who dat, them niggas wit the juice pack, you thought you had

    Naw dad, I'm glad my niggas keep a few thangs, wit a few mags
    Down to toe tag, drop bags, switch tags, and haul ass
    Smash till we out of gas, blast only if we gotta blast
    Turn sunny days into an overcast

    Abusive to the under class, when my tongue lash
    And I mash out wit OutKast. Yeah...!

    [Hook: x 3]
    This song was submitted on October 17th, 2013 and last modified on October 18th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC.
    Written by Andre Benjamin, Antwan Patton, Brian Loving, David A Sheats, Robert Crawford.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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