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letra de dirty scale - liltae2, 10ta lil a & tse vic

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[verse 1: liltae2]
i’m doin’ dirt and got a dirty scale
if you ain’t with this sh-t, stay out the streets ’cause you might go and tell
done got a bag and sold it the same day like it ain’t hard to sell
might stuff the za inside the ziplocs so it be hard to smell
can’t go out for the funny sh-t, i’m gettin’ far from scam
when you get locked, the people that you love don’t answer calls from jail
if n-ggas pull up tryna crash or try to call for 12
you know that lean’d have you movin’ slow just like a [?] snail

[verse 2: tse vic]
i told bro planes crashin’, send it through the mail
b-tch, i’ma get rich or die tryin’, too smart for jail
first n-gga make a diss, i bump into him, i’ma hand out bail
to bro i like threes, i’m coppin’ these, you could keep them 12s
ain’t never had to pull a scam, i’m rich off a scale
i’m in the whip with two phones in thе back tryna sell these grams (comе on)
my plug told me cop a hundred, said i might as well
ain’t grabbin’ lows, i’m buyin’ sh-t up off the top shelf, n-gga

[verse 3: liltae2 & 10ta lil a]
you smokin’ bottom rack, i’m smokin’ top shelf
done put a couple n-ggas on they feet that made me top health
and bro been takin’ opps up to the store so they can cop belts
if cuzzo try to run off with a bag, then i’ma pop fam
i upped and tried to shoot it, then the glock jam
my uncle tried to short me on the pack, i almost shot sam
i’m finna dunk you on your neck, don’t try to stop slam
i hit the sandwich shop, got cheddar cheese on top of chopped ham (yep, i said)
[verse 4: 10ta lil a & tse vic]
i think my n-gga dry snitchin’, finna pop cam
‘d catch an opp and punch him in his sh-t and get him choke slammed
mini micro drac’ with k!ll switch and it do not jam
‘d hit they block and let the window down, i’m finna raise h-ll (uh-huh, i said)
and i just punched uncle joe, wait ’til i catch jam
what we doin’? sh-t, i’m in the hood, i’m tryna dump grams
and why the f-ck you makin’ music if it don’t sell?
i f-ck around and shoot the mailbox (uh-huh), i get the wrong mail (yop)

[verse 5: tse vic]
go off for life without parole, i bet i won’t tell
you coppin’ ‘lows to try and dump the ‘bow and it did not sell
b-tch threw the ass, i caught it one hand like odell
my unky trippin’, he just took a line and broked the coke can
you never had no clientele ’cause you’s a broke man
i’m gettin’ rich to feed the ones close, i don’t need no friends (come on)
just made ten before 10 and started toe dancin’
tryna take a chain, gon’ get blew, you ain’t got no chances

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