Skrilla - Zu Keeper, Ol' Dirty Bastard

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