Lift Ya Skirt

One nigga, two nigga, three nigga, four
One of you niggas is about to get fucked up
It’s the Ol' Dirt McGirt, live and uncut
Live and uncut, ready to bust a nut
Like when I first came home, I boned Simone
Fucked her so hard, pussy started to groan
Seven in the morn', woked up and yawned
The bitch scrambled my eggs, she wrote me a song
(Sing it!) It’s all because of Dirt Dog
That the reason I took my skirt off
You went away -- now I’m back with (what?)
And this is where the bullshit stop
Plus these voices in my head, want me to go back
Pick up your guns, don’t take your Prozac
Ritalin, Codelin, Zoloft, cocaine
Wu-Tang, nigga, it’s the new John Coltrane (hahahaha)
Dirt Dog, Dirt Dog, you our man
If you can’t do it, then no one can
(Mr. McGirt, gonna get you dirty
Lift up your skirt, I’m gonna get you dirty)
Dirt Dog, Dirt Dog, you our man
If you can’t do it, then no one man
(It's the (what) in the house, gonna get you dirty
The Wu-Tang Clan gonna get you dirty)
I hopped on the scene, spit sixteen bars lean
Cross your face like a smear of Mabeline
Wet jeans, get rised, ecstatic clean
Is it cuz my sex feel like you on morphine
They-they think, I’m so much
I talk tough, burn your mouth and handcuffs
Makin' hits, I’m making paper, cake it up
Lookin' haters in the face, like 'nigga what?'
Now scream, how many of these muthafuckas respect me
Cuz I’m the only chick who freak any beat
So pack it up, with that O.D.B
Oh, it’s a bad bitch…
Shame on a nigga, who, who tried, to run game
On a nigga, like a gold digger
I pull my trigger, I bet my gun bigger
Now how ya’ll figure, that’s how ya die quicker
A Son, what? what?
Die, drin', die, come on
This is strictly for the radio
Yo… can’t stop…