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p.y.g – on da dirt lyrics

[intro: lap, y.butch]
pecknarm young gunners (pyg)
pyg
know dat
black bandannas all day
black gang
my n-gga gritz
pecknarm
my n-gga tantrum (gritz)
myself young l a p ([?], young l a p)
big up all my n-ggas on this innit
dunkno
straight

[verse 1: y.butch]
the streets are getting colder
it’s time to cop myself a coat
to hide the heat that’s hanging tight below the coat
you [?], then the heat will smoke
i shove the ting further in your mouth then deep throat
a knife will hit your chest hard like a deep [?]
eyes your mouth widen like he’s bespoke
but then his beat close, and his beat froze
body dropped, eyes rolled, now he’s ghost
all you snitches out there just keep a beat close
because if the streets cold
if you snitch you’re gonna get your beat blown
you said he’s not but he’s singing like a ringtone
handgun barrels keep spinning like ringtones
guns are silent, like when the wind blows
[?] and scopes i’ll pitch him from a window
well now they can’t snitch, ‘cus they don’t know who pitched the snitch from the window

[verse 2: y.k!lla]
like while you n-ggas are bubbling and shaking foots (don’t bother)
me and my n-ggas are running and spray the shubs (yeah fam)
while you n-ggas are ducking, we’re, claiming a [?]
you say your teams bucking, so p-ssy name your hood
so let me know cuz what part of town you’re repping
‘cus if it ain’t pecknarm you better get to stepping (pecknarm)
my whole teams [?], we ain’t petting (nah)
so if a n-gga violates, best believe i’ll get him
yeah [?] and nutcase be sick headbopping
leave his head rocking
f-ck the fists, fists i’m bound from spliff (that’s all long)
[?] swing it house long
cuzzy forget rocking, i’ll make my skeng drop him
so you better mind out, when, we got the stick on us
‘cus you don’t want this ting to get ridiculous
don’t come ‘narm and don’t get caught slipping cuz
‘cus you can get put down from what man are gripping cuz

[verse 3: lap]
i’m on da dirt, putting in the work
no stunter to leave a n-gga in the earth
leave your face bloodied up, dying on the curb
what made you think you can come into my turf
i’m a peckham young gunner, strictly no runner
head top busser
never seen no young other
bring your opponent
younger lap’s [?]
come into my ends you get sliced with the cutter (cutter)
spread it on the pavement all over like b-tter (b-tter)
when it comes to beef i ain’t no mumbler
tip of the strap is a motherf-cking mumbler
jump out the seat on the 1 10 strambler
back on the strip
and put down the beater (beater)
[?] all nike i don’t rock fila
pecknarm youths we all are realer (realer)

[outro: lap]
dunkno
all real
black bandannas all day
pyg
and we’re out

- p y g lyrics

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