[Intro: Samples]
Here we go, AK-47, the very best days
When you absolutely, positively, got to k** every motherf**er in the room, except no substitutes
Nothing gets between me and my AK
[Intro: Dirty Sanchez]
It's New Yuck City baby, uh
It's Dirty, look
[Verse 1: Dirty Sanchez]
Dirty don't [?]
How he so cool, you can tell he got fans
You microwave n***as get your plans foiled
[?] all, you can't stand
On your own two, so you fell through the quicksand
Probably rhyme so over your head (Haha, hah)
And for the bread and bu*ter I leave n***as in the gutter
Dear summer, I remind 'em of you how we son 'em
Used to be a little brother, now I fund 'em
Fundemental, trustin' good, not trusting is better
Said I climb the latter to success, 47 Style
I was outside looking in and now I'm looking out
Told 'em catch up, but they couldn't, so they Sauerkraut
[Hook 1: Dirty Sanchez]
Pull the sours out n***a, uh
Pull the sours out n***a, uh
Pull the sours out n***a, uh
Pull the sours out n***a, n***a, n***a
It's Dirty
[Verse 2: Jakk The Rhymer]
The return of the skully fryer
Hot rhymer, the [?]
Who knew that [?] would build like the [?]
And the filter [?]
I ain't running out of stock
I'm fryed like I'm literally running out the pot
Stealers on the corner [?], by the buildings selling weed and rock
I stick my head out the window
Who got the sours, I'll pa** it
So I can blast it, to the last hit
Right after I acid, they put me in the casket
I be immortalized as a dope rapper
Pack the dope in tobacco, I smoke 'til i catch throat cancer
Yo, if I was on the block, I move the dope faster
Your set will never get the work like your show canceled (No)
You probably smoked the joke because it show master
I wanna grow master
I need the whole [?]
Yo, so I can get high when the sours out
When we down and out we figured how to turn the frown around
n***as still getting high when the sours out
[Hook 2: Jakk The Rhymer]
Pull the f**ing sours out, uh
Pull the f**ing sours out, uh
Pull the f**ing sours out, n***a, n***a
[Verse 3: Rokamouth]
Pull the sours out, I think a drought up in my burrow
So that's without a doubt, with every ounce we smoking thorough
I need a heater, light the heat but n***as sweet and sour
THC
I pack a power punch, yo that's a blunt, I want the fronto leaf
Know all you want I front of me
But I'm still living comfortably
And naturally, all you wannabes still rolling up your sleeves
And ain't receive your lessons I taught to tame these seeds
And ain't believe it, I perceive what you achieve with [?]
Live at SOB's, k**ing y'all without looking
All I need is more bookings
Because I got enough to put in, and keep it sweet like a pudding
If I'm cooking, got my foot in like I do win it for Brooklyn
Overlooking all I took in
And we'll keep it pushing, pens up in the kush and
Cause I'm a real musician, my position up in the kitchen
Chopping every rhythm with precision
Listen, then cutting 'sitions
Into the track, got it tracked, all of my rap friends
Out the trap to bring that loud pack back to my house
47, Rokamouth, tell the motherf**ers
[Hook 3: Rokamouth]
Pull the sours out, n***a, n***a
Pull the sours out, n***a
[Outro: Capital STEEZ]
As Ls turn to clips
Clips turn to roaches, and those turn to bowl hits, oh sh**
Looks like we getting high again
That's another gram going straight to my diaphragm