f** y'all, I'm staying on my job
Its the Big T, putting it down with the Maab
f** y'all, I know you gon hate
For the ones who talking down, we keep putting it in your face
f** y'all, you boppers and gold diggers
We some million dolla n***as, you never gon get us
f** y'all, I know you boys heard
The year of the underdawg, and we repping the Dirty Third
[Z-Ro]
Lately I've been losing my composure, the soldier in me is raging
I got a f**ed up attitude, and I punish a punk if he misbehaving
Like I'm taking names, when it get a little more deeper
Z-Ro the Crooked taking aim, point blank range, hit a n***a in the brain
Is it ever gon stop hell naw, shouldn't even have to tell y'all, but if
One of y'all run up on anybody, Guerilla Maab and people gon smell y'all
Cause I don't give a f** about you, when I bust I'm trying
To knock a chunk up out ya, hit a motherf**er in the middle of the ring
Left right combos, pre punk up out you, ahh b**h all cats
Don't want no beef, f**ing with me, and the Guerilla M double A-B
Haters sprinkle S-L-A-T, but we steady stack E-N-D's
Out on the block or up in the sto', raw like salt that's up in your nose
A gangsta I suppose, and until my eyes close f** y'all
[Hook]
[Dougie D]
f** y'all f** you, and everything that you stand fo'
I'm a motherf**ing P-I-M-P, Dougie D all I want is the cash flow
From the front to the back do', I'll straight up slide a hoe all up out my pesos
Sparkle weaving all these fake hoes, leaving hatas so sh** I'll shake those
Feel that man they can get back wanna rip that, four five k**ing all chit chat
Man I live a life long straight do' flat, come roll with me so its like that
Everyday all day, representing for the dirty third, f** what a
Motherf**er heard, swift flyer than a bird, a n***a swang and a n***a swerve
Indeed I love to smoke my weed, stimulate my M-I-N-D
But these hatas always up on my meat, so I gotta stay up on my P's
Put it down with my partna Big T, representing hard in the Southside streets
We gon continue to smash for the trash, and the white folks what y'all thinking
[Hook]
[Trae]
Repping the Dirty Third, we in the four do' Coupe coming up on the curb
And fin to fly to the South like a heard of birds, and anybody talking down
Better watch they words, 'fore I touch a n***a nerve
And if another one of you motherf**ers wanna get stoled on
Better hold on 'fore I roll on, with a right hand that'll do a n***a so wrong
It'll be known for some of y'all to move on, we still always and forever
Guerillas that mob and I'm the lieutenant, stand down back down
And get a n***a smacked down, into the ground you feel me now
Thinking I don't know that y'all hating on us, while your other
Motherf**ers be waiting on us, and changing on us
Debating on us, and all of that hate only made a n***a tough, f** being down
We ain't going back broke I'ma cope anyone that Trae'd never smoke
Any one of these hoes going against the Maab, on the mic you better
Get a day job, we ain't having it motherf**er better know we talented
Any way I'ma damage it, savage it, when we come
Through the do', we ramming it