Tekst:
12 Dirty Bullets

on the strip, until I reach the margin Not tryin' to meet the Sergeant, at the precinct Eatin' cheese sandwiches, down for the weekend Locked up with dirty

Lately I've been going through more bullshit, than a bull fighter So when I say my praises to God, one verse is like a full choir My every thought is

, smoke the black, hold the gat The streets got me thinkin' 'bout my man's passin' Stashin', the lex with a passion, gotta make it happen The block steamin' and 12

fuck style Tell me come jiggy I rock kix and swishees Coppin moet wit 2 counterfeit 50's What? Dirty girl rhyme spit mucous Speech uncoothe And raise the roof like Lukas 12

wanna do? (Ride, die. Die die). Yeah, one ah these nigga, one ah these nigga, one ah these Chorus We low down, low down dirty shame, niggaz actin strang

s the best Mic accurate, trade darts TL, slight tint DL, quick flash Smooth as a baby's ass, lyrical addicts, murder mics like a savage And MO30, bullet

As we return, to the 36 Chambers The RZA, the GZA, the Ol Dirty BZA U-God, Chef, the Ghostface Killah And Meth, Rebel I soldier for the foreclosure Don

in the street) Unbelivable heat, we'll even lay you out infront of the chief of police Muthafucka' [Chorus x2] [Kon Artis-outro] Yeah! D-Twizzie D12, Dirty

mind? (Nasty mind, nasty mind) Don't you wanna get f****d from behind? (From behind, from behind) They treat me like a dirty slave (Dirty slave, dirty