Skrilla

When you get that skrilla, nigga, act familiar
When you get that skrilla, nigga, act familiar
When you get that skrilla, nigga, act familiar
Own family will kill ya, damn it be a skrilla
Box of bullets in flavors, like Mike & Ike
Friday night, I’m in the bed, with a bitch and a dyke
Ol' Dirty, 7:30, got the thirty-thirty
Caught a mouscope, ain’t aimin' at no birdie
My name plate, travel through the interstate
Glock in the stash box, my drop top ventilate
Permanent A.C., use to boost at Macy’s
Smoke out Mr. Spacely, and still Dick Tracy
I blind dunk a base, make ya chest inflate
I’m at the herb gate, watch my money bake
Disrespect me, where I lay my head, my hammer spray
My cybertech nylon suit, reflect gamma ray
When I speak, ears open to the size of cymbal
Make you tremble, watch what the fuck my gun do
A moment to pray, a second to die
Take your hard ride with the bulletproof high
Nigga, check ya logic, Ol' Dirty’s out the closet
I return you niggas for a five percent deposit
Beer belly, I chuckle like Kris Kringle
Put four grams of cocaine, crushed up in the single
Everyday is Saturday, everyday my gats play
When shit get bad, I’m looking for a badder way
Ol' Dirt McGirt, in concert the bomb burst
To set it off, shoot him in the arm, first
Let him off? Nah, kidnap his mom, first
Told you, when things get worst, nigga, things get worst
Cats be saddling, when the gats splattering
Ol' Dirt, caught one through the lower abdomen
Straight through the back, like the javelin
Word, son, it had to been, still here, battling