IMF Blue Steele, Shyheim - Dirty lyrics
[IMF Blue Steele, Shyheim - Dirty lyrics]
I don't understand how you did what you did
She lived in ya crib, she did a full bid
Feds are kids, even, bids are kids
And when the NARC's rushed
She cleared ya spid
When shit got dark, she aired ya niggas
True story, Brownstone
But upstairs you lived
And you ain't never tell her
'bout that night you slid
To the East and shot up
Police with a rifle spread
Then came home, wilding on her like you ahead
Then told ya man, "Don't worry, son
My wife in her bed"
You had 2 mans with you, 82 grams with you
Plus y'all ate at that Jamaican spot
Right by the figure lot
And y'all ain't give a fuck if
It was safe or not
And you only shot the police
Cuz he heard the shots
And everybody know him
Cuz that's Curtis' pops
And everybody know him
Cuz he served the block
And they gon' come get you
If ya scared or not who cares
Cuz they gon' come get you
If ya scared or not
And now you back home, getting ya act on
Slap on, beating ya wife, ya mans laugh on
And she don't even know about
The trouble you into
And she don't even know about
The trouble you been to
That's dirty, son, you did her dirty
How you gon' live like that?
You disrespect her shit, neglect her shit
You stress her shit, that's how you live
And that's dirty, son, you did her dirty
How you gon' live like that?
Not everything bleaches
Y'all took the Kingston to the beaches
Forfeit ya live weekend, the
Kids with big mama, y'all thought y'all
Was creeping
Got home, and guess who not home?
Big mama 'nore the kids
She got to sort the crib
But nothing never showed
Y'all remember that story that's never told?
Stepped in the kitchen
Seen the letter on the stove
With a candle lit, embedded with a rose
"This is C4, I got ya kids
Yo I shot my pops for some rocks in the spiz
Disrespectful on the block where I live
I should sell off all ya kids
With shots to the wigs
But, I ain't even wanna do ya kids that dirty
Cuz I ain't even wanna do ya wiz that dirty
But, I ain't gon' worry cuz I got ya moms
So I know I got the
Faggot-ass right in my palms"
And that's dirty
He got my moms? How you gon' live that that
"Don't worry", that's what you told ya wife
After, all the time you scold ya wife
Nigga, and Peter, son
You know how you treat her
She took a likkle stare and
Said "Look up here"
It's her address, you turned and knew it
Same place you shot that cop
On Vern and Lewis
You know it was her time and
You burned it through it
Trying to gather up ya thoughts like
"How I'm gon' do this?"
Ya wife in ya ear like "How you gon' do this?
Somebody got my kids cuz you killed a cop
If they don't get to kill you, I'ma kill you
Watch and I don't understand after
All we been through"
And y'all don't understand
This will all continue
She lived in ya crib, she did a full bid
Feds are kids, even, bids are kids
And when the NARC's rushed
She cleared ya spid
When shit got dark, she aired ya niggas
True story, Brownstone
But upstairs you lived
And you ain't never tell her
'bout that night you slid
To the East and shot up
Police with a rifle spread
Then came home, wilding on her like you ahead
Then told ya man, "Don't worry, son
My wife in her bed"
You had 2 mans with you, 82 grams with you
Plus y'all ate at that Jamaican spot
Right by the figure lot
And y'all ain't give a fuck if
It was safe or not
And you only shot the police
Cuz he heard the shots
And everybody know him
Cuz that's Curtis' pops
And everybody know him
Cuz he served the block
And they gon' come get you
If ya scared or not who cares
Cuz they gon' come get you
If ya scared or not
And now you back home, getting ya act on
Slap on, beating ya wife, ya mans laugh on
And she don't even know about
The trouble you into
And she don't even know about
The trouble you been to
That's dirty, son, you did her dirty
How you gon' live like that?
You disrespect her shit, neglect her shit
You stress her shit, that's how you live
And that's dirty, son, you did her dirty
How you gon' live like that?
Not everything bleaches
Y'all took the Kingston to the beaches
Forfeit ya live weekend, the
Kids with big mama, y'all thought y'all
Was creeping
Got home, and guess who not home?
Big mama 'nore the kids
She got to sort the crib
But nothing never showed
Y'all remember that story that's never told?
Stepped in the kitchen
Seen the letter on the stove
With a candle lit, embedded with a rose
"This is C4, I got ya kids
Yo I shot my pops for some rocks in the spiz
Disrespectful on the block where I live
I should sell off all ya kids
With shots to the wigs
But, I ain't even wanna do ya kids that dirty
Cuz I ain't even wanna do ya wiz that dirty
But, I ain't gon' worry cuz I got ya moms
So I know I got the
Faggot-ass right in my palms"
And that's dirty
He got my moms? How you gon' live that that
"Don't worry", that's what you told ya wife
After, all the time you scold ya wife
Nigga, and Peter, son
You know how you treat her
She took a likkle stare and
Said "Look up here"
It's her address, you turned and knew it
Same place you shot that cop
On Vern and Lewis
You know it was her time and
You burned it through it
Trying to gather up ya thoughts like
"How I'm gon' do this?"
Ya wife in ya ear like "How you gon' do this?
Somebody got my kids cuz you killed a cop
If they don't get to kill you, I'ma kill you
Watch and I don't understand after
All we been through"
And y'all don't understand
This will all continue