Doin’ Dirt Bad lyrics

(B-Legit)
Mobb sh*t biatch

(E-40)
Biatch!! Biatch!!

(B-Legit)
This sh*t ain't went no where. (Trademark)
You understand me?? (Uh!)
It's like, when a muthaf*cka do his dirt
It don't be no ordinary dirt, you understand me??
A n*gga do dirt bad. Check it out

(E-40)
I took a, I took a, whole thang of ice cream
A kilogram of birdie a unit
Put the wammy on it, stepped on it, wit out ruinin it, or abusin it
Like a muthaf*cka would supposed to
When there's a shortage on sumpthin, (on sumpthin)
That way I could get em off like hot cakes
An you know there's plenty more where that comes from
You see I know this one storage place that this one particular ball-ah
Sneekin an keepin his job-ah
For you tardy unaware troopers
Now hoppin in the game truant ass n*ggas
Biatch!! biatch!! yadda means powder
Yola, yola, ice cream candy
Man that sh*t be comin in handy
But anyway
Dude hella bootsy an he was juss askin to get robbed
That's why me an my side went ahead
An pulled one of them 'ol inside jobs
On his 'ol, move the show room
Show me more Willie Fu-Fu put the red on his
Put two on the ten, all protected an tryin to impress a b*tch
Don't you know I'm all off pullin licks
On busta brown ass zarks like you
Scopin an casin 2-11's an holdin patience
(B-Legit)
I huddle wit the hogs up on defense day
Lieutenants get the kicks, backwoods of the Yay
Soldiers leave the place, so the cream I keep
Six or seven g's everytime I beep
Hit the streets like I can't, plot fo the bank
f*ck wit a boss, cuz a pit got rank
Make yo body stank, leave you lost in the woods
A n*gga from the hood, up to no damn good
We ride Fleetwood, hit 'em dummied out
Walk a clerk to the safe, an get the money out
I'm on a money route, and all cash I claim
A n*gga deep in this muthaf*ckin game

Chorus- *(E-40 & B-Legit)*

187, 211, 1-2-0-2-2's
We doin' dirt, we doin' dirt bad
457, 6-4-7-11, 3-5-0
We doin' dirt, n*ggas doin' dirt bad
We doin' dirt, we doin' dirt bad
We doin' dirt, n*ggas doin' dirt bad
We doin' dirt, we doin' dirt bad
We doin' dirt

(E-40)
B-Legit from what I understand, his breath was stronger than his bite
(beeeeee-yaaaaatch!!!) n*gga was sellin mo wolf tickets
Than a sold out Lennox Lewis an Evander Holyfield fight, sh*t
We ain't no strong or soft n*ggas, we savage damn it
Like who?? like the crocodile hunter
That crazy ass muthaf*cka named Steve
Who caught me doin' dirt, cuz I'm dirt cheap
An I like to do most of my dirt when most of y'all be asleep
Down an dirty, 'specialy when I'm doin' dirt bad
Pull akickdoe, run up in yo baby mama's pad
(B-Legit)
I been it down from day uno
Baby bottle full of pruno
Knew I was the sh*t named B-Legit
Had a thang fo bakin soda, an high info
Couldn't wait to put the Vogues on a 7-8 rogue
I'm on a telephone, my communicator
On the track wit the team, gettin hella paper
f*ck a playa hata, see he cheats to win
An me, I be the B-Soft Gin
Cuz I'm the man wit it
Got the taste of blood
So dirty when I'm wet that I turn to mud
I smoke purple bud
An make a hit hurt bad
Ain't no tellin when a n*gga doin' dirt bad

*(chorus)*

40-50, 45, 4-7-0
We doin' dirt, we doin' dirt bad
457, 6-4-7-11's 3-5-0
We doin' dirt, uh, n*ggas doin' dirt bad
We doin' dirt, we doin' dirt bad
We doin' dirt, n*ggas doin' dirt bad
We doin' dirt, we doin' dirt bad
n*ggas doin' dirt, we doin' dirt bad
BIATCH!!
(B-Legit)
We doin' dirt bad, me and Charlie Hustle
n*ggas push up on us cuz now we got the muscle
Got they yay sewed up
An you gonna have to see us
Either that or get hit, wit the millimeters
Keep my burners on
Ain't no peace out here
A good place to leave yo whole f*ckin career
So keep yo game near
An don't cross game
Until the list have your own f*ckin name

(E-40)
Them badgers
Them b*tches
Them batches
The got my faulty tapped
But the po-po's hate it
Cuz I be talkin in code
Street slang, so they can't interpretate it
An the only way that they gonna be able to interpretate
It is if they go out and get a reliable source
Which is a snitch, a f*ckin affidavit
One that gives up very important valuable information to the vice
A rathead, a rathead, turns in they mama for the right price
Money hungry for bread, you wussy, willow ass
b*tch-made n*ggas workin for them
It's hoes like you that got us doin' dirt bad
Biatch!!

*(chorus)*

187, 211, 1-2-0-2-2's
We doin' dirt, we doin' dirt bad
457, 6-4-7-11, 3-5-0
We doin' dirt, n*ggas doin' dirt bad
We doin' dirt, we doin' dirt bad
We doin' dirt, n*ggas doin' dirt bad
We doin' dirt, we doin' dirt bad
n*ggas doin' dirt, we doin' dirt bad

BIIIIIIIIII-AAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAA-TCH!!