Lyrics

Dirty Sanchez and I got dirty presidents
Tell your bitch that we at the back door kicking it
Mix the light of hash with the spliff in it
My lungs are blacker than licorice so they match with my timberlands
Missy didn't hit the L yet but I'm super-duper fly, man
Aviators on no helmet
Capital Steez helped us formulate a team
Now it's cool all week, 45 to 47 degrees
Fuck school though, them hoes scoot over
95 maxima, the new Range Rovers
It feels like we space traveling
With a eighth and a lava lamp, niggas just wishing we'd throw the towel in
Tiedye mental now kill the game we bound to win
Crown and caged we proceed, y'all pre-game
All our proceeds are sprouting, now we reigning
Dirty motherfucker this game what we staining

And you don't stop, it's still 147 on an undercover cop
And you don't stop, it's still 147 on an undercover cop

From an AK get ‘em to a motherfucking cop
Fuck is they repping for trying to lock me up for pot
It's too bad that these bullets ain't gonna make you niggas stop
‘Cause the way that they be watching if these faggots want the cock
Why they plot on a nigga? Guess they think I'm selling rock
‘Cause my knots grown bigger, I'm saving for the top
Just to drop y'all quicker, fuck what you heard. beast coast gonna get you
And when we come get you leave your spot on the stretcher
I'm a real hot stepper fighting hard for this cheddar
And only getting better, do this shit in any weather
And if you really clever watch your head for your head get severed

And you don't stop, and that's 147 on an undercover cop
And you don't stop, and that's 147 on an undercover cop

As I walk through the streets and the alleys of Brooklyn
Fiends is on a scheme mad, cops is crooking, you shooken
Just look here, this ain't your average playground
Bodies in the garbage so them niggas never play round
Just stay down ‘cause stray bullets might leave your face looking
Destructed, young ruckus can't touch this
Fake MCs, get the ham and no bluffing
They say the kids ill, no, I'm fucking disgusting
The bucket brim low, the all black Timbos
Wear the lumberjack, got a Brooklyn mental
We fresher than Mentos, you cats is all weak
Spending heat on momentum, never stand on our feet
These stans are I demand, the chances are MIA
Read my fortunes for fortune and my times are for grand
Just understand God these streets is murderous
I know you heard of us, you ain't hurting us
It's looking worse for you, we need a hearse for you
Better quit while you're ahead or get murked in a
New York minute you'll get smoked like you Newport living
They want beef but MCs only be grilling

And you don't stop, I said 147 on an undercover cop
And you don't stop, I said 147 on an undercover cop

Puff puff, pass the dutchy to the righteous man
Heights expand, what we like the contraband
Hit the road with a conscious band
Flow rugged raw shit and filled with intoxicants
So the groupie girls pop lock it in
Drop it like it's hotter than tropic land
Tropacan in a can, Cancun on can ann, still got the can
Found your ex on the beach, you call me the sandman
Got the queen on dance all on a handstand
Don't worry ‘bout what car I be in it got your BM in it
Dark tinted so you can't see him in it
Sharp splinters, told him it'll be a minute
Of blood stains thicker than wood grain
Thinking they would gain but your hood blamed
Production of your environmental conception
Wishing you was let into which you was not let in
Flourishing through flows that let you go hours
True coffee flowers for hours
True MCs, they move beef with cowards
Me and Powers discovered our powers when we hit the sours
Word to my brother Steez, I pack with the loudest so much green
When we hit spliffs it's like we hit the lotto
That's the lotto ‘cause “Life's a bitch” is still a motto
But that ain't the only reason we get high, though

And you don't stop, it's still 147 on an undercover cop
And you don't stop, it's still 147 on an undercover cop
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147 Lyrics

Dirty Sanchez – 147 Lyrics